It bothered her.
It messed her around as she tried to calm down her heart every night. She supposed it wasn’t her mother’s fault. She just wondered sometimes if she was enough for her.
She didn’t like guys like her mother did. Her mother was bisexual, so at least she might partly understand…
But the question still looped in her mind. Was she enough? Even her mother admitted she was disappointed that she wasn’t bisexual too. Did it really matter to her, and why?
Asking her wouldn’t alleviate the questions, either. It would only replace the question with another; was she lying?
At least four times a day, the question would appear on the tip of her tongue, but she would push it down. She tried so hard not to care.
Finally, it slipped out. “Am I enough for you?”
“What?” her mother asked, obliviously.
She explained. “You were disappointed when I came out. You wanted me to be bisexual, like you. You were disappointed.”
“Oh honey,” said her mother sadly. “I still love you, no matter what. It doesn’t really matter at all, I just wish I understood you more…”
So that was it, after all. She should’ve just asked.