Suddenly she turned, her face contorted with pain, and said, “I don't want to be angry with you. I can't make you love me!”
A few tears slid down her cheeks as she went out the door. I lay still, thinking how mean it was of me to reject her so cruelly,
but I also knew that I was incapable of answering her any other way. I can't be a hypocrite and pray with her when I don't feel like it.
It just doesn't work that way. I felt sorry for Mother -- very, very sorry -- because for the first time in my life
I noticed she wasn't indifferent to my coldness. I saw the sorrow in her face when she talked about not being able to make me love her.
It's hard to tell the truth, and yet the truth is that she's the one who's rejected me.
She's the one whose tactless comments and cruel jokes about matters I don't think are funny
have made me insensitive to any sign of love on her part. Just as my heart sinks every time I hear her harsh words,
that's how her heart sank when she realized there was no more love between us.
She cried half the night and didn't get any sleep.
Father has avoided looking at me, and if his eyes do happen to cross mine,
I can read his unspoken words:How can you be so unkind? How dare you make your mother so sad!
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