Page 127 of Call You Mine
“Who was it?” Rumi asks, her and Jack looking over at the bar.
“See the super cool Northshore High School jacket?” I ask, not even having to look over in the direction.
Emerson snorts, and I know she spots the guy. “What a winner,” she says, taking a sip of her beer.
“Wish I was that cool,” Ava echoes, taking a sip of her soda, her full, pink lips wrapping around the straw. She sets her glass down and turns to me. “Excuse me,” she says to me.
“What?” I ask, but she’s already trying to scoot out of the booth. “You’re not going over there.”
She raises a brow at me, and I know she’s about to say she can do whatever she wants, but she surprises me when she says, “I’m going to go say hi to Luke and Annie.” She blinks those hazel eyes up at me, her lashes long enough to blow me away. My mind short-circuits, immediately under her spell and willing to do whatever she wants—just from those goddamn eyes.
“Fine,” I say. I’m about to tell her I’ll go with her, but my phone buzzes in my pocket, distracting me.
“I’ll be right back,” she says, lifting on her toes to press a kiss to my lips.
“Me too,” I say, more to the table of our friends than to her, when I see it’s my mom calling. I head toward the front door of Lenny’s, needing some quiet to take the call.
I haven’t heard from my mom—or my brothers, for that matter—aside from some occasional texts asking for the password to a streaming service we share or some other random question they could easily figure out themselves.
I think that’s what has my anxiety spiking, immediately wondering what could be wrong for her to be calling me.
I don’t mind answering their texts. My therapist has helped me realize that it’s okay for boundaries to not be so rigid, and that you’re allowed to mend and adjust them as needed.
And spending a minute or two replying to one of them helps with the guilt I feel for not calling or visiting for the last four months.
I haven’t been home since January.
Maybe because it’s not really my home anymore.
Ava and Georgie.
The baby.
They’re my home.
“Hello?” I say into my phone, greeting my mom.
“Hi, honey,” my mom says into the phone, and my nervous system immediately calms. There’s no urgency in hervoice, no need to be worried. Maybe she’s just calling to check in. I haven’t told her about Ava’s pregnancy, so this might be a good chance, too.
“What’s up?” I ask her, a small smile on my face growing with the excitement of sharing the news with my mom.
“I hate to bother you,” she starts, and my smile drops.
I’m sent back to all the different times she’s started a phone call or conversation in the same way.
She’s calling for a favor, to ask me to do something.
“I don’t know if Auggie told you,” she says, going on to explain some issue with her insurance and how she received a bill for her last visit with her doctor about her arthritis, and it was bigger than usual.
The words go in one ear and out the other, waiting for her to finish, so I can remind her that I am two hours away while her three other sons are all within a two-mile radius.
“Mom, I can’t really help with this since I haven’t been there. I know you recently switched doctors, but I don’t know the new doctor or anything about it. You’ll have to talk to Auggie.” I keep my voice even and polite, not wanting to upset her, but I really don’t know what else to say.
“But Auggie can’t—” she starts, but I don’t let her go on.
“You can’t keep making excuses for him, Mom. He’s an adult, and it’s your responsibility to either teach him or trust him with your medical stuff, or ask Alex or Archie.” The words come out easily, much more so than I thought they would. “I’ve got people waiting for me. I got to go, okay?”
“Well,” she says, and the one word cuts me with the way she says it. “I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”
