Searching for Mr. Darcy

Scene Eighty-Nine

"Hey, Mom, how are you feeling?" Maisie asked when she entered her mother's room the next day.  Momma Frampton was working on a puzzle and watching a movie.  She used the remote to pause it.

"The physical therapist is coming today."

"Yep."  Maisie didn't press further. That was her mother's way of saying she was annoyed she needed help from a stranger. "Did you get out of bed yesterday, use the scooter at all?"

"Just to go to the bathroom.  Anabeth was here."

"Right."  Maisie sat on the edge of the bed.  "Look, Mom, I have to tell you something."

"You got a new job?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"The phone call the other day.  I could hear most of it."

"You hid that well."

"Are you moving?" Momma Frampton asked.

"Temporarily.  I've got to be in Philadelphia early next week to start."

"Hmph."  Momma Frampton picked up a puzzle piece and attempted to find a fit for it.  Maisie silently watched her for a minute.

"Is that all you have to say - hmph?"

"What would you like me to say?"

Maisie put hand to forehead.  "I'd like you to ask me abut the job, or to congratulate me.  Both would be nice."

"Congratulations," Mrs. Frampton said, flatly.  She continued working on the puzzle.

"You're not even going to pretend to be happy for me? I don't know why I'm surprised, you've never supported my career."

Momma Frampton threw her puzzle piece down.  It bounced off her table and dropped to the floor somewhere.  "Never supported your career? I worked two, sometimes three jobs to pay for your college."

"And you've been reminding me ever since.  You've done nothing but tell me I'm not reaching my potential, or that Sales is beneath me, or that you're disappointed I didn't become a doctor or a lawyer or something you could brag about to your friends."

"Here we go again!  I'm the world's worst mother because I want the best for you."

"No, because you want whatever makes you look best.  Speaking of - where are all your Bible-thumping friends, Mom?  Have any of them visited since you hurt yourself?  Brought a meal?  Called to ask how you're doing?"

"Shut up!" Momma Frampton's face had gradually reddened, and now was nearly purple with rage.  "Shut up you ungrateful, petulant child!  We're not all so lucky as you to have co-dependent friendships where one gives more than they take."

"Talia doesn't take-"

"I didn't say she did."

"You know what - be jealous of my friendships - that's fine.  It doesn't hurt me, it only hurts you."

Her mother smirked.  "You're so naive."

"And you're so bitter.  I helped you here the past week, no complaint.  You didn't even have to ask.  I was here, taking care of you expecting nothing in return.  Well, maybe not nothing.  I wanted to see the human side of you.  I wanted to know what it would be like to have a mother who wasn't constantly criticizing, and I did get that for a day or two, so I guess I'm grateful for that.  I wish you could be grateful, too.  Maybe that's asking too much from someone who thinks the world owes her something."

"Get out."

"Fine.  Good luck with physical therapy."  Maisie arranged her purse strap on her shoulder and calmly headed for the door.  She was a fool to think things with her mother would ever change.  The injury had been to her leg, not her heart.