This is Where We Talk Things Out

by Caitlin Marceau

“It feels like she is. By agreeing to this weekend, you’ve basically told her that if she doesn’t get her way at first, then she can harass you as much as she wants until she finally does.”

“Is she? Or is she trying to guilt you into taking her bullshit now that he's not around to listen to it?”

“Look, I can’t pretend to understand why you want to salvage whatever it is you have with Sylvie. But I love you and I respect you enough to trust you on this. If you think this is what’s best, if this is something you really want, then I think you should go for it. I also think you need to prepare for what happens if she disappoints you again. This isn’t the first time she’s tried to work things out with you, but I think, for your sake, that it needs to be the last.”

Growing up, her mom had always made a point of overstepping Miller's boundaries and expecting her actions to result in few consequences. She’d always apologize and beg for her daughter to give her a chance to make things right, for them to “start fresh.” And while Sylvie had a bad habit of extending poison ivy disguised as olive branches, Miller had a worse habit of accepting them.

If she wants to make things work with Sylvie, and she really does, she knows she’ll need to swallow her pride and do everything she can to meet the woman halfway.

“It feels like you do.” “Okay, but how you feel doesn’t dictate the truth of the situation.”

There’s something so unnatural about seeing her childhood repurposed for the cabin’s interior. She knows it’s Sylvie’s way of moving past her grief, but it only serves to wake Miller's own pain back up.

It only lends itself to the feeling she has of being trapped in a child’s doll house.

Miller is stunned with Sylvie’s version of events, but unsurprised by it. This is what it was like growing up with her: every event, every memory, rewritten and retold to you enough times that you couldn’t help but wonder if the version you remembered was wrong. It always started with the tears she could summon on command, and ended with Miller apologising for something she never did and agreeing that Sylvie was right.

And, quite honestly, I think it says a lot about someone if they can’t love another person unconditionally unless that person’s their offspring. It’s narcissistic.”

“You weren’t giving me motherly advice, you were trying to invalidate my choice not to have kids. And this isn’t the first time you’ve done this, either. I’m an adult, I know what I want, and I shouldn’t have to prove that to you for you to respect my choices.”

“You always do this. You take everything I say and you twist it and turn it against me. You always make me out to be some kind of monster when all I’m trying to do is keep our family together. Just, desperately, trying to make it work for the three of us.”

I think you think you were a great mom, but you were selfish and you were mean and you made everything about you. Why the fuck do you think I cut you out? For fun?”

Her mother either fails to understand or chooses not to: it’s not that Miller is argumentative, she just stopped blindly agreeing with her mother; she hasn’t been ignoring her mother, she's just trying to live her own life; she didn’t cut her mother out, she just set boundaries.