My Evil Mother

by Margaret Atwood

“They may not like me, but they respect me. Respect is better than like.”

I didn’t care about being respected—that was a schoolteacher thing, like black lace-up shoes—but I very much wanted to be liked. My mother frequently said I’d have to give up that frivolous desire if I was going to amount to anything. She said that wanting to be liked was a weakness of character.

“It’s hard living with someone who’s always right. Even when it turned out that she was. It can be . . . alarming.”

“You were such a sensitive child. So easily wounded. So I told you those things. I didn’t want you to feel defenseless in the face of life. Life can be harsh. I wanted you to feel protected, and to know that there was a greater power watching over you. That the Universe was taking a personal interest.”

covering of skin. The protector was her, the greater power was her, the Universe that took an interest was her as well; always her. “I love you,” I said.