Perfect Daughter Academy: My Mom's Biggest Regret

I forced myself to my feet, but my vision went black, and I crumpled to the floor.

When I came to, Mom was sitting beside my bed, watching me. Just like always, her first words were a reprimand.

"Natalie, can't you take care of yourself? I've told you over and over to eat properly instead of constantly trying to lose weight, but you never listen. Now, you've fainted from not eating. Is this what you wanted?"

I wanted to tell her I wasn't starving myself to lose weight. The pain had gotten so bad that I couldn't eat.

When I didn't respond, Mom let out a sigh and quietly began feeding me spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup.

I recognized the taste. She had made it herself.

I never knew how to describe our relationship. It felt like a soaking wet coat in the dead of winter. Wearing it left me cold, but taking it off didn't make it any better.

I managed to finish half the bowl of chicken noodle soup before Mom spoke up again.

"How about I take you out tomorrow? Think of it as a chance to relax."

But I didn't dare to say yes again. I simply shook my head and replied, "No. I still have a lot left to study for my prep courses."

Mom nodded, her face unreadable. Then, she said, "Good. At least you're improving. Usually, all you care about is going out and having fun.

"Tomorrow, I'm taking you to meet some friends. Their kids are retaking senior year, too, but none of them are doing as well as you. So, make sure you present yourself properly."

Her answer didn't surprise me. To her, I was just a trophy to parade in front of other people.

…

The next day, everyone sat together around the dinner table. Before I'd even finished chewing, Mom turned to me. "Nat, who wrote 'The Courtyard After Rain'?"

I froze for a beat before answering, "Ezra Thorne."

"And what was the final line of the poem?"

I was already a high school senior, yet she still treated me like a little kid, quizzing me in front of everyone.

Still, I pulled a notebook and pen from my bag and carefully wrote the line down.

The people around us immediately began complimenting me. "Just look at Natalie. She comes out to dinner with her notebooks. Meanwhile, my kid only cares about having a good time."

Despite her words, that lady was smiling when she looked at her own child.

"Natalie's going places, Donna. You'll have nothing left to worry about once she makes it," someone else said.

Mom kept nodding in response. As she looked at me, a hint of pride flickered in her eyes.

…

After everyone left, I wanted to ask Mom to take a walk by the river with me. I'd done well tonight, after all. Maybe that meant I could ask for something in return.

But the look she gave me made the words die in my throat.

"Do you know what you did wrong tonight?" Mom questioned.

I went over every moment from the evening and still couldn't figure out what I'd done to upset her.

She sat back down and slammed her hand on the table, so hard that it shook the room.

"Everyone else's kids got up and performed something, and you sat there like a statue! You're far too quiet and reserved. How are you supposed to make it in the real world acting like that? I'm calling Ms. Turner tomorrow and signing you up for extra coaching."

Mom's words blurred into a buzz in my head.

She was the one who told me that ladies should be poised and never draw attention to themselves. But now, she was criticizing me for being too quiet and reserved.

By the end, all I could see was her mouth moving. I couldn't hear a single word anymore.

My vision blurred until I finally closed my eyes against the pain. I couldn't bring myself to face the fact that I was about to die.

Even then, I still hoped Mom would notice something was wrong. I wished she'd realize I was truly sick, then apologize and tell me she'd misunderstood me.

But she didn't. She only looked down at me and snapped, "Really, Natalie? The same act again? Couldn't you come up with something new for once?"

At that moment, I gave up completely. I understood that I would never receive the love I'd been longing for.

After recovering a little, I looked up at Mom. "Would you be happy if I died?"