It's you who didn't want your mother first Chapter 1

My daughter, who had just gotten a full ride to Berkeley, suddenly looked at me and said, "Mom, I think you're kind of selfish."

I frowned, completely lost.

"I mean," she continued, "I got into this amazing school, and all our friends and family are congratulating *you*, showering *you* with praise. But what about Dad? He gets nothing out of this."

The air went out of my lungs. My heart felt like it had dropped into a block of ice. I stared at her, my face hardening.

"And what exactly is it you think your father should be getting?"

* * *

Asking that question felt like swallowing glass.

My daughter, Emily, didn't even look up from her video game. "It's not that I think he should get something specific," she said, tapping furiously at her iPad. "It just doesn't seem fair."

Her tone was so casual, but the words were suffocating me. I took a deep breath, walked over, and snatched the iPad out of her hands.

"Tell me," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "Tell me about your idea of 'fair.'"

That's when she exploded.

Emily shot up from the couch and tried to rip the tablet back from me. "What the hell? I'm in the middle of a raid! Are you crazy?"

I threw the iPad to the floor. It shattered with a sickening crack. Emily’s face twisted with rage.

She shoved me hard. "I was trying to be nice!" she screamed, her face inches from mine. "I was trying to spare your feelings, but I guess that's over now."

"I'm your daughter. When I got that acceptance letter, even the mailman was telling you how lucky you are, what a great kid you raised. Relatives who haven't called in years are suddenly blowing up your phone."

"It feels pretty good, doesn't it? All that attention. But what about my dad? Just because you two are divorced, he's not even allowed to come to my graduation party? He has to sneak around to give me a gift, like he's some kind of criminal, just so he doesn't upset you."

"He's my *father*, Mom, not some stranger. This glory, this success? It's mine. I earned it. And you're getting all the benefits. Why shouldn't he get to share in it, too?"

"Why do I have to be *your* trophy? Why do you get to control everything? I'm just telling you the truth. You're a selfish, possessive woman."

Her words hit me like a physical blow. My mind went blank. My teeth were chattering, and the hand I pointed at her was trembling uncontrollably.

But Emily didn't care. She was on a roll, venting years of stored-up resentment.

"I know what you're going to say. You're going to talk about how Dad hurt you."

"That was ages ago! How long are you going to hold that grudge? It's the 21st century, people get divorced all the time. Does every divorced couple have to be mortal enemies?"

"He stopped loving *you*, Mom. He never stopped loving *me*. I'm his daughter, and I made him proud. I got into Berkeley…"

The sharp, clean sound of a slap echoed in the quiet room.

It took every last ounce of my strength.

Emily clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. Then came the shriek. "How could you? You have no right to hit me! You are going to regret this!"

With one last hateful glare, she spun around, wrenched the door open, and slammed it behind her.

My legs gave out. I stumbled backward and collapsed onto the floor.