I pinch the bridge of my nose, close my eyes, and try to pretend my own mother didn’t just say those words to me. “I’m your daughter,” I squeak into the phone. “Shouldn’t you think I deserve better than a man who doesn’t love me?”

“Don’t be naïve, Elena.”

“And it was Christmas yesterday.” Linds emits an audible gasp of confusion. “It was Christmas,” I clarify, “and you didn’t call me.”

“I—” She clears her throat. “I didn’t want to bother you, darling. I thought you were with Andrew’s family.”

“It was Christmas. It wouldn’t have bothered me to get a phone call from my mom.”

“I’m sure your father didn’t call, either,” she snaps.

“No.” I sigh again. “He didn’t. But that’s not really the point.”

“You could have called me, too, you know. This works both ways.”

“I could have,” I concede. Meredith looks ready to pounce, ready to rip the phone from my hands if I dare retreat into an apology. But I’m not going to apologize to my mom. “But I’m the kid, and you’re the parent, and it would have been nice if you called.”

“I’m calling now, aren’t I?”

“You are,” I say calmly. “But if you’re calling about money, I need to tell you that I’m not going to be sending you money anymore.”

Meredith leaps off the futon and punches a triumphant fist into the air.

“Sweetheart—”

Forward, I think. Not backward. “I’m not interested in this current relationship dynamic anymore,” I say, thinking about Katherine and her laminated schedule. Thinking about Meredith and the thousand-dollar plane ticket that brought her here. Thinking about Andrew, giving up everything for his sister, even if it was misguided. “If you decide you’re interested in having an actual mother-daughter relationship, I would love to work on that together. But if you’re just going to call me whenever you need money, then I am going to stop answering.”

Meredith’s victory dance in the middle of my living room takes on an interesting gyrating quality, and I feel—

The call disconnects. My phone screen goes dark. I stare blankly at it for a second, thinking it must be a mistake. The call was dropped. She’s going to call back. My mother is going to call right back. She’ll apologize, she’ll listen, she’ll try.

Meredith stops her pelvic thrusting. “Wait, what happened?”

“She hung up,” I say, staring listlessly at my phone.

The call didn’t drop. I set new boundaries and my mother isn’t interested in following them.

“Fuck.” Meredith deflates. “That pathetic fucking excuse for an egg donor. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“I feel…”