So when we think about it logically, mothers are just people like anyone else. But does it kind of feel like the role of mother is idolized or almost made to seem sacred to the point where a character who dislikes their mother would be considered a bad person? The thing is, step-mothers are often made bad-ladies while real mothers are always the people who cheer you on, love you blindly, XYZ. But real mothers exist in a spectrum, again, like any other group of people. And while I've seen a few examples of characters who aren't written with super-loving, perfect, pious mothers, it definitely feels like most of them are written like this, unless they're the evil queen. I kind of did a combination of these two ideas with my character Mrs. Moon, who at first seems to be the perfect mother, but that's in contrast with Alicia's own mother who was mentally unstable and neglectful. Then the progression shows that she's something like the 'evil queen' mother if you're talking queen in the girl boss sense. The truth is that lots of people experience extreme levels of toxicity from their mothers and this manifests itself in lots of different ways, even if the mothers themselves don't realize it and think that they love their children more than anything. But by limiting the representation of family to this pretty-perfect picture, at least in the realm of mothers, we fail to address a lot of the different kinds of traumas that people suffer. Most people seem to have no qualms about writing terrible dads, but there is a unique kind of trauma when the person who is allegedly supposed to love you unconditionally very definitely has conditions for who and when she will love, and the fear of falling out of favor and losing that love, maybe forever. This is one thing I wanted to represent with Kattar's story, but it definitely feels like one of those things you're "not allowed" to say.
How do you write mothers in your stories? Do they have a lot of relevance or none? Do you make it clear how they affected the person your character became, or are continuing to influence them? Do they stick to the mom arc-type?
I once heard that 'mother is the word for God on the lips of children,' but what if your mother is an angry god?
*
â- I remember when Clara first started bragging about this girl a few years back,â says the cherry-haired woman, sifting her eggnog with the air of a connoisseur, âShe always said she was going to be so famous someday...â
âI think it was more than a few years, darling,â says a young-looking woman with dark wavy hair, holding a candy cane between two fingers like a cigarette, âIt was more than a decade ago.â
âTime moves in strange ways when you get to be my age, Daphne. Youâll have to excuse my memory. My childhood is starting to seem like yesterday.â
âWhen last year feels like five minutes ago let me know,â Daphne smirks, âI still donât know what you did with that jacket I lent you.â
âAish, this girl can hold grudges!â Mrs Moon laughs, brushing a crumb from Daphneâs face.
âWhen are you going to let Jun off the hook?â
âWhen last year feels like a thousand years ago,â she says flatly, sucking the end of the candy cane with a mildly irritated air, âBut I suppose Clara was right - look at the girl now? Veggera FoundationâŠâ she shakes her head almost as if itâs a tragedy âI canât imagine. I was ten years older than her before I got that kind of recognition, and still working a day job. I guess it helps to have a famous mother, eh?â
A wave of bubbly, chatting bodies washes over the entrance to the dining room, blocking my vision. I glance at Kattar and can tell heâs listening too, with an unpleasant expression, like heâs sucked on a lemon.
I can just decern over the din Mrs. Moonâs voice saying firmly, but not unkindly, âI never helped her that much. I funded the initial endeavors, but any fame sheâs acquired is by her own merit.â now I can see her running her painted nails along the rim of her mug of cocoa, with a pensive look on her pretty face, âSheâs a talented little girl - and I didnât birth that, though I envy the woman who didâŠâ
At those words, Kattar seems to flinch - just a fraction of a movement - but I catch it. Guilty perhaps? Or jealous of the attention Iâm getting, albeit indirectly. He seems to sink into his chair as his mother goes on - âFortunately or unfortunately none of my genes created that prodigy.â
âBut you hung her artwork in your office,â Daphne muses, pointing at Mrs. Moon with the candy cane, âThat had to do something for her reputation.â
âI thought Victor painted the picture you had in your office?â Jun queries, her forehead lined with confusion, âThe one of the mountains?â
âI took that painting down 29 years ago, darling," Mrs. Moon says calmly, with a wave of her hand. âI gave it to a friend sometime after the divorce.â
âShe has some bluebirds in her office now that Kattarâs girlfriend painted when they were teenagers,â Daphne adds drily, with an almost sarcastic lilt in her voice, as she admires the candy cane, sheâs managed to suck into a murderous point.
If Kattar sinks any lower, heâll disappear completely.
âTheyâre not a couple, just friends,â Mrs. Moon says almost too firmly, with a glance in Kattarâs direction - before she smiles one of her tooth-paste-model smiles back at Daphne with aggressive composure, âKattarâs never had any girlfriend. Heâs career-focused, like his mother.â
Daphne raises one eyebrow as if she doesnât believe Mrs. Moon for a second, before shrugging carelessly and sticking the candy cane into her cup of cocoa.
âItâs a shame then - and a waste of good looks. Heâs a handsome little devil.â
âHe looks a lot like Victor used to,â Mrs. Moon admits, with a slight sigh, âlacking a bit of the paleness - and heaven knows he dresses a lot better. Victor always looked like heâd just woken up under a bridge.â
Daphne smirks at that using the candy cane to stir her drink, âWith a face like that he could have made it a style - âstarving artist chic.ââ
âWell, if he looked as much like the boy as you say then perhaps he missed his calling as a painter,â Jun offers kindly, âhe should have become a model.â
Thereâs a twitch in Mrs. Moonâs expression, even behind her impassive civility, but itâs gone in an instant. She smiles graciously, with a delicate wave of her hand.
âIf he missed his calling, dear, it was only because he slept in. You never saw the beat of that man for shiftlessness.â
Daphne raises her dark brows as if daring them to ask her, but Mrs. Moon just shakes her head pensively, raising her mug to her lips.
âItâs true enough though, what Daphne said. He was a handsome fool.â
âWell, I never met him, you remember,â says Jun, âI was in Ibiza for that hotel job the year you were married. Do you have any pictures of him and the boy side by side?â
âNo,â Mrs. Moon says with dispassionate finality, âThe divorce was finished a month before my little prince was born, and a good thing too. The last thing I needed was Victor rubbing off on him. Itâs worry enough to know he looks so much like the devil.â
I look at Kattarâs face and immediately regret it.