Page 55 of Take My Kiss
My eyes pop open at the familiar voice I haven’t heard in almost a decade.
“Are you there?” she asks when I stay silent. “Amelia, please. Don’t hang up.”
I clear my throat, pushing myself up against the headboard and bracing for a conversation I don’t want to have this early. “What do you want, mother?”
“Where’s your etiquette? Do you have any idea how much time and money I’ve spent on a private detective tryin’ to find you?”
“Not a clue,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes. “It must be important if you’ve put in that much energy into hirin’ someone.”
“You gave me no choice by changin’ your name and movin’ ’round. It was a miracle he found you.”
I don’t care enough to ask how he did or got my number because the sooner this conversation is over, the better for my anxiety.
“Well, he did. Whaddya need? Another kidney? Or would you like to guilt-trip me into a limb this time?”
“Don’t be impudent.” She scoffs. “It’s your father. He’s very ill.”
“Probably from alcoholism,” I murmur. “Or is it lung cancer?”
If he wasn’t drinking, he was smoking. And in between, finding ways to ruin my life.
“I thought you’d like to come see him before it’s too late.” Her voice cracks slightly. “He doesn’t have long.”
“Why? Has he suddenly remembered he has a daughter?”
“Mind your tongue, Amelia,” she snaps, causing my heart to jump.
“Me?Do you even care to know you have a granddaughter? Or to ask howI’mdoin’?”
“I planned on it before you got snappy.” She sighs deeply, the silence lingering until she speaks again, this time more softly. “What’s her name?”
“Lily.”
“After Grandmama?” she asks, surprised.
“Yes.”
It always amazes me how such a horrible person could come from a wonderful, selfless woman. After my divorce, I didn’t want to go back to my maiden name, so I changed it to my grandma’s. I hate that she died before she could meet my kids, but I know she’d be honored that Lily is her namesake.
“How old is she?”
“She’s three. Sam is eight.”
“You named him after Samuel.” She sniffs. “Wow.”
“Yeah, well, you would’ve known that had you not kicked me out before he was born.”
“Amelia, please. Let’s not do this right now.”
“When would be the appropriate time for you, mother?”
She clears her throat, and I slightly feel bad for upsetting her when Dad isn’t doing well.
“You should bring ’em with you. I’d love to meet my grandchildren.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell herhell no,but there’s a part of me that wants to show her how great my life’s been without them in it. That I didn’t need them. And how much they missed out on because they were horrible parents.
But considering my current situation of hiding out in a leisure treehouse, I’m not sure I have the confidence to pretend I have it all together and everything’s perfect.
