The sound of silverware clinking fills the kitchen. Across the small, circular table, Mom checks her wristwatch.

“I have to go in ten minutes,” she announces. “We’re voting on our next book tonight.”

I gulp. This is it. I promised myself I’d share my big news tonight. There’s no going back. I won’t let that happen.

“Mom, I have something to tell you.”

Noting my serious tone, she puts her knife and fork down and stares at me.

“What is it? Is it about Brad?”

I bite down on my bottom lip.

“No, but, uh…now that you mention it, Brad and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

Her shoulders sag. “Since when?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“And you’re just now telling me?”

I feel myself bristle at the response. “It wasn’t serious.”

Mom sighs. “It never is with you, Violet.”

My mouth drops open.

“You don’t think I’m not trying, Mom? I go on dates all the time. I use the internet. I go to bars. I even tried speed-dating…”

I press my fingertips against my brow, exhausted from just listing all the ways I’ve tried to find a man.

“Sometimes it just takes a while,” she says briskly. “You’re only twenty-nine.”

“And not getting any younger.” I drop my hands and look at her. “My twenties have gone by…” I shake my head. “So fast. Don’t tell me my thirties aren’t going to be the same.”

She lets out a sharp exhale. That must be an agreement.

“What is your plan then, Violet? Sit around until a man falls into your lap? Become a lesbian?”

“I’m not looking anymore.”

“Oh.” She taps her long fingernails against her water glass. “Well, that…that can be good as well. Focusing on your career is always a good thing. You’re healthy and energetic. There’s time yet to find someone and get married.”

“I don’t know if that’s going to happen for me, Mom.”

She rolls her head in exasperation. “Violet, don’t start this ‘woe is me’ business.”

“I’m not!”

I take in a deep breath, my hands clenching under the table. I promised myself I wouldn’t lose my cool.

“I’m not,” I repeat, more calmly this time.

“Why did you bring this up?”

“I didn’t. You asked me about Brad.”

“You said you had something to tell me.” She flattens her palms on either side of her dinner plate. “Now, look. I know how disheartening dating can be. Maybe we can go out together—”

“I’m going to have a baby,” I blurt out.

Her blue eyes are wide and unblinking.

“You’re pregnant?” she whispers, no readable reaction there.

“No,” I carefully answer. “But I hope to be soon.”

“What…what are you talking about? You just said you’re not seeing anyone. Without a husband or boyfriend…”

“I’m going to try and find a sperm donor. Have been, I mean. I’ve been trying to find one.”

A long silence follows.

“Oh, Violet,” Mom groans. “Breakups are hard. I know you probably miss Brad, but—”

“This isn’t about him,” I snap. “I ended that. And he wasn’t even my boyfriend. We’d only been dating for a few months.”

“And yet, because the relationship ended, you’ve decided to go and have some stranger’s baby,” she dryly says, folding her arms tight.

“Actually, no. I’ve been thinking about this for months. Since before I met him.”

Her nostrils flare. “Good Lord, Violet. What are you thinking?”

“That I can’t wait around for a man to give me the life I want,” I quickly answer, voicing the words that have swirled in my brain for months.

“And what if you do this…this…”

“Artificial insemination.”

“Then you meet a man the next month? What then? Do you think he’s going to stick around if you’re already pregnant?”

“If he doesn’t, he’s not the man for me.”

The patronizing look on her face makes me want to punch the wall.

“You’re going to regret this.”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Mom.”

“Just wait, Violet. Please. There’s someone out there for you.”

“Honestly, Mom, I don’t really care whether there is or not.”

At this point, that’s the truth. I’ve spent so many of my years looking for a dream guy. I’m exhausted, tired of chasing men and just wanting someone in my life.

Other than a family, I have everything I ever wanted. My own gallery. A house that I bought just last year. I’m one of the most successful people I know my age. It’s time I did something for myself.

Where’s the crime in wanting someone to love and take care of?

I’d really wanted my mother to be happy for me, but I’d had no illusions going into this conversation. I knew she wouldn’t support my decision. With her, everything is by the book. Take one step off the path the majority of society follows, and you’re committing an unforgivable sin.

Mom’s face is white, and she won’t stop shaking her head.

“You’re giving up too early, Violet. Look at me. I’m still going out there. Do you think it’s easy at my age?”

I grind my teeth together so I don’t say what’s on the tip of my tongue. Things are different for my mother. She’s no longer looking to start a family. When she was my age, she had a husband and a three-year-old.

“Try harder,” she goes on. “And you’ll find someone eventually.”

“You, out of all people, shouldn’t blame me because there aren’t any good men out there.”

Her mouth goes into a tight line, and I know I’ve gone too far, crossed that boundary that we have a silent agreement to never even touch. But I no longer care.

Though she no longer wears her wedding ring, she’s kept my father’s last name. A name I’ve thought a dozen times about discarding myself.

“I need to go. You’ve made me late.”

She goes to stand, but I beat her to it.

“Don’t worry. I’m leaving.”

“Violet…”

She doesn’t need to bother. We’ve both already said what’s important. She doesn’t support my decision, and it’s no surprise. I’m alone in this. Just like with everything.

I’m out the door and in my car in a heartbeat, speeding down the residential street as dusk swallows the little houses up. My hands shake against the steering wheel, and a sob pushes tightly against my chest. Hot tears stream down my face.

Seeing a mostly-empty drugstore parking lot, I pull into it and park all the way in the back. There, I drop my head forward and let the sobs come.

For each sad tear, there’s an angry one.

I knew that people would judge me for this decision—unfortunately, my mother included. What I don’t get is why. Everyone deserves to pursue their own form of happiness, right?

I’ll be a good mom. Maybe not the best in the world, but I’ll try my hardest each and every day for the rest of my life. And there won’t be a moment that goes by where I won’t thank the heavens above for giving me someone to take care of.

Though I’d been expecting my mom’s reaction, it hit me harder than I thought it would, her angry face yet another reminder that I really am in this all by myself. There’s no husband to go to doctor’s appointments with or to assemble the crib for me. In the middle of the night, I’ll be the only one waking up and trudging down the hall to rock a crying baby.

But that’s just the way it is. That’s my life—partly because I’ve picked this path. I didn’t want to be single and approaching thirty, but here I am. My whole life, I’ve done things my way. I went to art school when my mom begged me not to. Started a gallery when everyone said the market in Hawaii wasn’t good enough.

And look at me now. I’ve persevered, made a name for myself. It’s time I complete my life by adding someone else to it. Anyone who doesn’t like that idea can shove it.

Wiping my tears and raising my head, I put the car back into drive and head home. Alone. But, though there are sad tears and angry tears, there are no lonely tears. In a lot of ways, I’ve spent my life alone. I know how to inhabit that space. It’s made me stronger, unapologetic.

Despite everything else, I have that to be proud of.