DEFENSIVE

One Week LaterMay 30th; 2024The Era's Tour - Madrid, SpainTaylor Swift's Point of ViewAs I make my way towards the tunnel, the anticipation builds with each step. The stadium buzzes with the residual energy of the performance, but my focus is solely on where I know my dad and Joy await.

As I round the bend, there she is—my precious Joy—her vibrant smile lighting up the dimly lit corridor. Her boundless energy is evident in the way she fidgets and bounces on the spot, unable to contain her excitement.

"Mommy! Mommy!" her voice rings out, cutting through the surrounding din.

With a fond smile, I meet her gaze, my heart swelling with affection. Beside her stands my dad, his presence a steady anchor amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"Come here, Joy to the World," I call out, kneeling down to her level.

With a delighted squeal, Joy breaks free from my dad's grasp and races towards me, her laughter echoing off the walls. In an instant, she's enveloped in my embrace, her warmth and innocence a soothing balm to my soul.

Together, we share a moment of pure connection, the outside world fading into insignificance as we revel in the simple joy of being together. And as I hold her close, I am reminded once again of the profound privilege of motherhood and the boundless love that fills my heart.

As we begin to make our way through the tunnel, one of my dancers, Kam, catches up to me. Over the past year, I've grown close to all of my dancers, but there's always been a special bond with Kam. "Taylor, all the dancers are planning to hang out tomorrow and go out. You should come!" He extends the invitation, but I don't hesitate to decline.

"Thank you for the invite, but I have Miss Joy to take care of," I respond with a smile, gently booping Joy's nose, eliciting a giggle from her.

"There are plenty of people who would be willing to watch her for a few hours," Kam persists, trying to provide an opportunity for me to join them.

"Well, we already have tea time planned for tomorrow, and I can't let down the gang. You'd understand if you met everyone," I explain, realizing I might sound like a child.

"Yeah, Kam. Whiskerface, Fuzzykins, Waffles, and Squishy are all coming," Joy chimes in, referencing her beloved stuffed animals.

"Her stuffed animals. Are those the 'other people' coming to the tea party?" Kam's confusion is evident, tinged with a hint of judgment.

"Hey, don't discount Fuzzykins. He's a really cool dude," I defend, smiling at the thought of Joy's imaginative world.

"So, instead of going out, you're going to have a tea party with stuffed animals?" Kam's judgment intensifies, but I find myself caring less.

"I was even going to make cookies!" I retort, feeling the need to defend my plans.

"Okay, Josephine," Kam mutters under his breath, barely audible, but enough to catch my attention.

"Did you just call me Josephine?" I ask, confused by the sudden shift in tone.

"No?" Kam attempts to brush it off, but it's clear something's amiss.

"Joy, go see Papa. I'll be right there," I instruct, gently setting her down as she runs over to my dad. Turning back to Kam, I put my hands on my hips, staring at him expectantly.

"Don't get mad, but the dancers came up with a nickname for you," Kam begins cautiously, sensing my growing tension.

"What does it mean?" I sigh, bracing myself for whatever revelation is to come.

"So, during rehearsals, sometimes you talk about your life, which, honestly, mostly revolves around Joy, and it's sometimes entertaining... for a bit. But then one time, you mentioned an ex, and we were all ears. You described a boyfriend who never left the house, never wanted to be around friends, only craved privacy at home, and had no life," Kam explains, realization dawning on me as he mentions Joe.

I cover my mouth in shock. "You didn't!"

"We thought you were a hypocrite! Like a female version of him. So, behind your back..." Kam's voice trails off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

"You guys are jerks!" I explode, feeling a surge of anger coursing through me as I begin to storm off, but Kam catches my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

"I know you're upset, but please, just think about why we call you that," Kam pleads, attempting to justify their actions, but it only serves to fuel my frustration further.

"You're not me, Kam! You don't get to judge my choices and actions. I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders every single day, and then there's my daughter, who depends on me entirely. I don't have the luxury of going out and having fun like you do. I can't balance work, taking care of Joy, and maintaining a social life. I only have room for two out of those three. For nearly two decades, I've devoted myself to one of those commitments, and I'd endure anything twenty times over for Joy." With that, I snap and finally walk away, feeling a weight lifted off my shoulders.

As I reach down to pick up Joy, she looks up at me with eager eyes. "Are we still having our tea time?" she asks, her excitement palpable.

I pause, considering her question. "I don't know. Is Fuzzykins in town? I don't want to leave him out," I respond with a smile, knowing how much her stuffed animal friends mean to her.

"No, he's back home," Joy replies, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"It's okay. We're going home tonight," I assure her.

"Yay! Tea time!" Joy exclaims, putting a hand in the air with pure delight. And with that, we begin the long journey home.

•                          •                            •

As the plane cuts through the clouds, the soft hum of the engines lulls Joy into a peaceful slumber. Her head rests gently against the plush armrest of the couch, her breaths slow and steady as she clutches her stuffed toy. In the dim cabin light, her features are softened, the lines of exhaustion smoothed away by the tranquility of sleep. 

With a tender smile playing at the corners of my lips, I unfasten my seatbelt, moving with careful steps to retrieve a blanket from Joy's suitcase. Each rustle of fabric seems amplified in the quiet cabin, but Joy remains undisturbed, lost in her dreams. I drape the blanket over her, shielding her from the chill of the cabin and the worries of the world. It's a simple gesture, but in this moment, it feels like the most important thing I could do.

A voice breaks the tranquility, my mother's footsteps echoing softly as she approaches from her seat nearby. Her concern is evident in the furrow of her brow, in the gentle yet firm tone of her words.

"Rest," she urges, her voice a soothing balm against the backdrop of the plane's white noise.

I turn to face her, my gaze lingering on Joy's peaceful form before meeting my mother's eyes. There's a weariness in her expression, mirrored in my own, as if we both carry the weight of the world on our shoulders.

"I will in a bit," I assure her, my voice barely above a whisper, my attention drawn back to Joy as she stirs slightly beneath the blanket's warmth.

"It wasn't a recommendation," my mother insists, her voice tinged with a mother's worry and a hint of frustration. "You are overworking yourself."

I finally tear my gaze away from Joy, meeting my mother's concerned eyes with a weary smile. "She's everything, Mom. Everything I do is for her," I confess, the weight of my words heavy in the air between us. "Every day I just wonder if what I'm doing is enough."

"You're doing more than enough. You are an amazing mother and should never have any reason to doubt yourself. You love and care for Joy like no other." Her words wash over me like a comforting embrace, momentarily quieting the anxious thoughts that threaten to overwhelm.

"But do you know what I don't see?" she asks, her concern evident in the furrow of her brow. It's a question that hangs in the air, laden with the weight of unspoken worries and unfulfilled expectations.

I search her eyes, seeking the answer hidden within their depths, but find only the reflection of my own uncertainty staring back at me. "What?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid of what her answer might reveal.

"I don't see you taking care of yourself," she replies gently, her words landing like a revelation in the quiet space between us. "You pour so much of yourself into caring for Joy that you forget to take care of the most important person in her life: yourself."

As my mother's advice washes over me, a surge of frustration rises within. How could she suggest that I'm neglecting myself? I've poured every ounce of energy into my career and into caring for Joy. Yet here she is, questioning whether I truly have a life beyond work and motherhood.

"You sound like Kam," I remark, rolling my eyes in an attempt to deflect her earnestness, my gaze returning to the comforting sight of Joy nestled in peaceful slumber.

My mother's curiosity is piqued by Kam's mention, and she leans in, her eyes searching mine for answers. "Well, what did he say?" she inquires, her tone laced with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"That I have no life," I admit with a heavy sigh, the weight of Kam's words still lingering like a shadow over my thoughts.

My mother's next question cuts straight to the heart of the matter, her gentle insistence forcing me to confront the truth of my own neglect. "Do you though?" she asks, her voice tinged with a mother's worry and a hint of frustration.

"I'm an international phenomenon, Mom," I retort, my tone edged with defensiveness. "I'm on a billion-dollar tour. I have a life."

But my mother sees through the facade, her wisdom cutting through the layers of self-deception with unerring precision. "That's work though," she counters gently, her words a gentle reminder of the distinction between existence and true fulfillment. "What do you do for fun that doesn't have to do with work or Joy?"

I pause, her question hanging in the air like a challenge I can't quite evade. "I read, I paint, I sew...and I cook," I list off, each activity a small testament to the moments of respite I steal amidst the chaos of my busy schedule.

 "So everything that has to do with not having a life," she remarks, her tone laden with disappointment and disapproval. The weight of her judgment settles heavily in my chest, a suffocating reminder of the expectations I've failed to meet.

"I'm happy and Joy is happy," I retort, my words a feeble attempt to shield myself from her scrutiny.

"Are you happy?" she presses, her concern palpable in the soft cadence of her voice. The tenderness in her tone threatens to unravel the fragile facade I've constructed, exposing the raw vulnerability I've spent so long trying to conceal.

"Just stop!" I snap, the words escaping my lips before I can stop them. Anger flares within me, a defensive response to the discomfort of being seen so clearly, so intimately. "You're not in my shoes so you don't understand. Just leave me alone."

"Fine, I'll go," she concedes, her resignation a tangible presence in the space between us. But her parting words linger like a haunting echo, a reminder of the inadequacy I can't seem to shake. "But just so you know, the last interesting thing you did was go to Queensberry Club."

The bitterness of her observation twists in my gut, igniting a firestorm of indignation within me. Every instinct screams for retaliation, for vindication in the face of her perceived judgment. But as the heat of my anger threatens to consume me, I force myself to take a breath. And in that moment of clarity, I make a choice. I choose to let go of the anger, to release the grip it holds on my heart. I choose to swallow my pride.

—————Author's Note:

I was gonna make this chapter longer but I had to cut it into two separate parts because it was getting too long whoops.