Every Christmas, my mom announced to the family, “Still single? What a disappointment you are!”
I never defended myself. This year, she declared:
“She’ll never be good enough for anyone!”
I said quietly:
“I’d like you all to meet someone.”
When my mom saw who slowly entered the room…
“Still single.
What a disappointment you are.” My mother’s voice rang out across the living room, cutting through the cheerful Christmas music like a knife. I stood there, balancing a tray of cookies I had just pulled from the oven, feeling every pair of eyes in the room turned toward me. The familiar heat of humiliation crept up my neck.
“Mom, please,” I said quietly, setting the tray down on the coffee table with trembling hands. Please, what? She waved her hand dismissively, her wedding rings catching the light from the Christmas tree.
I’m just stating facts, Maryanne. You’re 37 years old. Your sister got married at 25.
Even your cousin Patricia found someone, and she used to be so shy. This was the annual tradition I had come to dread. Every Christmas, without fail, my mother found a way to announce my single status to the entire family as if it were breaking news.
The sympathetic looks from aunts, the awkward silence from uncles, the barely concealed smirks from my younger cousins. I knew them all by heart. My name is Maryanne, and I am turning 38 in February.
I live in Portland, Oregon, where I work as a senior marketing director for Bright Hollow Labs, a pharmaceutical research company. To the outside world, my life might look successful. I have a beautiful apartment overlooking the river, a career I have worked tirelessly to build, and financial independence.
But to my family, none of that mattered. The only measure of success they recognized was whether I had a husband and children. Elellanar, maybe we should talk about something else,” my father said from his armchair, though his voice lacked conviction.
“He never really stood up to my mother, not in the 39 years they had been married.” “Why should we?” Mom continued, turning to face the room full of relatives who had gathered for our annual Christmas celebration. “Maybe if we talk about it enough, she will finally do something about it. I mean, look at her.
She is not getting any younger. My sister Victoria, sitting on the couch with her husband Gerald and their two children, looked down at her wine glass. She would not meet my eyes.
What happened next changed everything… continues on the next page.
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