Kathleen had occasionally lamented the fact that her daughter seemed not to have inherited even a sliver of her own adventurous spirit. When Liza was six years old, Kathleen had wondered if it was healthy for a child to be so biddable. She’d half hoped to see at least a tiny hint of rebellion in the teenage years, but Liza had remained steady and reliable, an adult before her time, vaguely reproachful of her mother’s slightly unconventional antics. She hadn’t died her hair pink, drunk herself into a stupor or, to the best of Kathleen’s knowledge, kissed an unsuitable boy. It seemed to her mother that Liza lived a life regrettably lacking in daring.
But there was no doubt that she was caring and selfless. More selfless than Kathleen had been.
Kathleen had told herself that by pursuing her own passions she was setting an example to her child but if anything her experiences had caused her daughter to become more careful not less.
And here she was causing her anxiety yet again.
Liza put her coffee down on the table. “You removed the bandage.”
“It was annoying me. And the wound will heal better exposed to the air.” Kathleen pressed her fingertips to her head. “They had to shave some of my hair. I look like something from a horror movie.”
Liza shook her head. “You look good. You always do.”
Kathleen felt guilty for wishing she could have had a few more moments alone with her coffee and the birds.
Her daughter had dropped everything to drive here through hideous Friday traffic. No mother could have a more attentive daughter.
“How are the girls doing?”
“I don’t know. It’s too early to call them. They never emerge until midmorning. It’s not the easiest age. I assume they’re alive, or I would have heard something.” Liza sat down opposite her mother and lifted her face to the sun. She was wearing navy linen trousers with a tailored white shirt, an outfit that would have taken her from the classroom to a parent-teacher conference. Her shoes had a small heel and her hair hung smooth and sleek to her shoulders. Everything about Liza was safe and controlled from her attitude to her dress to the way she lived her life.
“You worry too much about them. Things have a way of turning out fine if you leave them.”
“I prefer to take a more hands-on approach than you.” Liza colored. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
It was so unlike her careful daughter to be unguarded in her remarks that Kathleen took heart. There was spirit there, even if it was rarely permitted to see the light. If only she could encourage more of it.
“Never apologize for saying what’s on your mind. It’s true that I wasn’t a hands-on parent. I did leave you, frequently, although you were with your father. You were never unsafe. I could say that it was my job—and that would be true—but it’s also true that I needed to travel.”
“Why? What was missing at home?”
Kathleen wished her daughter had overslept. Of the conversational topics she avoided, emotions were right up there with religion and politics. She didn’t talk about her feelings, and she didn’t talk about the past. Liza knew that. There were some things better kept private. Kathleen had learned to protect herself and was far too old to change. “It was complicated. But it had everything to do with me, not you.”
Liza put her coffee down. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You think I was selfish. You think I’m selfish now by not agreeing to go into a residential home.”
“I’m worried, that’s all. I love you, Mum.”
Kathleen squirmed. Why did Liza say things like that?
“I know you do.” She saw something flicker in her daughter’s eyes. Disappointment? Resignation?
“I understand that it isn’t easy to leave somewhere you love, but I want you to be safe.”
“What if that isn’t what I want for myself?”
“You don’t want to be safe?” Liza gently brushed away a bee that was hovering around the table. “That’s the strangest thing I ever heard.”
“I’m saying that there are other things more important than safety.”
“Like what?”
How could she explain? “Happiness. Adventure. Excitement.”
“Surely tackling an intruder is more than enough adventure and excitement for a while?”
“That wasn’t an adventure, it was a wake-up call.”
“Exactly. It was a painful reminder that living in this house by yourself is impractical, but of course we’ll support whatever you want to do.” Liza sounded tired and Kathleen could see her mentally adding to her already-bulging to-do list. Keep an eye on mother.
There would be regular phone calls and twice-monthly visits and another worry to add to the many that already kept her daughter awake at night.
Kathleen wondered how to free her daughter of the crushing sense of responsibility she felt for those around her.
“I’m not your responsibility, Liza.”
“Mum—”
“I’m willing to live with the consequences of the decisions I make. I’ve always valued independence—you know that. I’m sure many people considered me selfish traveling the world when I had a young child at home, and maybe I was, but it was my job and I loved it. The Summer Seekers was part of me. Is it selfish to sometimes put your own needs first? I don’t think so. I was a mother, but not only a mother. A wife, but not only a wife. And of course, if I’d been a man, no one would have questioned it. The rules were always different for men, although I hope that’s changing now. Progress.”
“I don’t look at it the way you do. I’m part of a family.”
“Family can be your priority without you waiting on them hand and foot.” She expected her daughter to argue with her and defend the way she lived her life, but instead Liza slumped a little.
“I know. And I don’t know how it got to be this way. I think it’s because it’s simpler to do things myself because then they get done.”
“And if things don’t get done, what’s the worst that can happen?”
“I end up unraveling the mess, which is usually more work than if I’d done it in the first place.” Liza finished her coffee. “Let’s not have this conversation.”
Given that the conversation was starting to veer toward the personal, something Kathleen made a point of avoiding, she readily agreed. There was an awkward silence. “I hear Sean in the kitchen.”
“I’ll make breakfast.” They spoke at the same time and Liza stood up quickly, knocking the table and sending the remains of Kathleen’s coffee sloshing onto the table. She paused, seemed about to say something and then turned and walked back into the kitchen.