Perfect Daughter Academy: My Mom's Biggest Regret

Ever since I decide to repeat my senior year due to me not doing well in my SATs, Mom views me as the biggest pain in her ass.

After all, I have the potential to get into a prestigious university, and yet my grades are only good enough for me to land a spot in a regular university. To her, it's extremely humiliating.

Mom often looks at me with red-rimmed eyes.

"Natalie Jones, after your father cheated on me, I raised you all by myself. If you don't succeed in life, you're basically forcing me to die."

She did what she said.

If I don't get a perfect score in Math, Mom won't hesitate to jump into a river.

If I don't emerge as the top student of the year, she will slit her wrist.

I'm worried that Mom might commit more outrageous antics, so I explain to her tentatively, "The truth is, I'm sick…"

Without even bothering to look at me, Mom continues speaking to me coldly.

"You'd rather curse yourself than study.

"I've enrolled you into a prep academy so that you can learn how to be a perfect daughter, not the filthy liar you're being right now."

I can only clutch the report that states I have late-stage brain cancer in my hand.

Later on, I use the remaining seven days in my life on attending the course that will apparently teach me how to become Mom's perfect daughter.

My mom, Donna Moore, kept ranting. "I hit a nerve, huh? That's why you've got nothing to say now. You're just like your cheating father. Full of lies! He already walked out on you. I'm the only one still willing to put up with you!"

My parents divorced when I was five.

Kids at school used to say I had a father who only existed on paper. The moment Mom heard about it, she cut her business trip short and rushed to the school to stand up for me.

To be fair, she hadn't treated me badly. But the people closest to us always knew where to strike to make it hurt.

I stayed silent and followed Mom to my prep academy. She took a back road, but we still ran into someone she knew.

"Donna! What a coincidence, running into you here!" the woman exclaimed. "How've Natalie's grades been lately? My daughter keeps talking about how great Fairhaven University is. Natalie should work hard and get in as well. Wouldn't want all that effort from her extra year of studying to go to waste."

A flicker of envy crossed Mom's eyes. "If she were even half as accomplished as Emily, I'd be happy."

"Ms. Moore, you're so successful. Your daughter's bound to turn out great, too. Don't put yourself down just to compliment me," Emily said with a bright smile.

At last, a smile spread across Mom's face. She opened her purse, counted 200 dollars, and handed the money to Emily.

"Take it. You're grown up now. Keep some money on you."

I stood there, stunned.

Mom had always believed in strict discipline. 200 dollars was enough to last me two months, and even then, I only got it if I came first in my grade.

Now, she was handing it to someone else like it meant nothing.

After a bit of a push and pull, Emily finally accepted the money. "Don't worry, Ms. Moore. Once I make something of myself, I'll never forget you."

Her words clearly pleased Mom. Beaming, Mom nodded again and again.

But the second they left, her expression darkened. "Natalie Jones! Your grades don't measure up to hers, and your manners are no better! You see someone, and you can't even say hello?"

"I didn't know who she was. You never introduced her to me…" I explained quietly.

"Now you're talking back to me?" Her shrill voice made my ears ring. "I carried you for nine months and gave birth to you just for this?"

I didn't know what else to say, so I just stared off into the distance.

I thought staying silent might buy me a little peace. Instead, it only made Mom angrier. She yanked at my clothes until I was forced to look at her.

"Oh, so now you're throwing a fit too? How dare you give me attitude? Who do you think you're glaring at like that?"

No matter what I did, it was always wrong.

At that moment, a sharp throbbing spread from my temples through the rest of my body, and my knees nearly gave out.

I braced myself against the trunk of a nearby tree, frowning instinctively. My condition was getting worse by the day.

But to Mom, everything I did looked like an act of defiance.

"Don't give me that look, Natalie. I raised you, and now you act like I'm your worst enemy?"

Despite how hysterical Mom was being, I still tried one last time to explain. "Mom, I'm not. My head really—"

Before I could finish, she cut me off, muttering to herself, "I knew sending you to the prep academy was the right choice. You really do need to learn how to be a perfect daughter."

Even at this point, she still didn't believe I was sick.

I should've realized it long ago. It had never mattered to her whether I was sick or not. All she wanted was a perfect daughter who made her look good.

The doctor's words from the day of my diagnosis came back to me, and I let out a self-deprecating chuckle.

"This is hereditary. Didn't your family make sure you got yearly checkups? How did you wait until it was this advanced to get treatment?"

Grandma had died from a brain tumor. Mom had been diagnosed with one five years earlier too, but hers had been caught early enough to save her life.

Unfortunately, I wasn't as lucky as she was.