I swallow hard and hit my mom’s name. When she answers, it’s as if she’s out of breath. “Angie! Hey!”
I smile at the sound of her voice. “Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m good. Better now. How are you? How was your day?”
“Busy. I’m working all the time, and school is rough.”
“Oh, I bet. But it’ll be worth it, won’t it?”
“For sure. Just gotta get done,” I say, exhaling hard. “I should be done by May.”
“That’s wonderful! Will there be a graduation?”
“There is, but I don’t know if I’ll walk.”
“Why not?”
I shrug, though she can’t see me. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to.”
I can tell she’s hesitating. “Well, it’s a huge accomplishment to get done early and have a job waiting for you, Ang. I would love to be there with you to celebrate.”
“I know. We’ll see what happens.”
“Okay,” she says slowly. “Well, it’s wonderful to hear your voice.”
“Yours too, Mom. I miss you.”
“Aw, my love, I miss you.”
I smile. “How are things?”
Of course, she goes into everything from the boys’ new dive scores to Charlotte’s plan to start a clothing line. Pretty impressive for a fifteen-year-old. My dad is still coaching the youth hockey league for girls and helps a little with the boys. He spends a lot of time at the pool with the twins, and Mom, she is always busy with her home design business. She’s decorated the homes of country stars, athletes, and actors all over Tennessee. Our house is basically a showroom. It’s funny that when Mom really hit it big with her business, it was only in a guesthouse at the back of my dad’s property. Now, she has over one hundred employees and a huge office building in Franklin, Tennessee.
I listen, smiling and feeling so whole. As much as I wish I were doing as great as they all are, I’m thankful they’re thriving. I may be doing great professionally, but physically, not so much.
“Work and school are good, though? Even if it’s busy?”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “It’s just a lot. I’m doing well, and I love it.”
“That’s awesome.” She pauses. “So, I feel like we need to address the elephant in the room.”
“We’re not in a room,” I say, trying to keep the elephant locked up.
“Angie.”
“Mom,” I say, laughing. “I don’t see a room—or an elephant, for that matter.”
“You’re a pain,” she teases. “And you know what I mean. If everything is so good, why don’t you call me or FaceTime? Why did you delete all your social media?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t need social media. It’s not good for mental health.”
“Understandable, but it’s good for family. We want to see you. We miss you.”
Yeah, not happening. “I know. I need to get things in order.”
“Angela, what’s going on? Did you get a tattoo on your face?”
I laugh. “Yes, Mom.”
“Angie!”
“No, really. It’s your face on mine.”
“I’m going to beat you,” she laughs, and I smile. “Baby, are you okay?”
The lump in my throat is suffocating me. I want to be honest; I want to tell her my insecurities, but I know she’ll tell me I’m perfect. To her, I am. To me, not so much. Hell, it’s a huge step that I called her right now, but in no way am I ready to admit I’m hiding because of my weight gain. The weight gain that was caused by trauma. Trauma she did everything to keep me safe from and then another kind of trauma she was unable to protect me from. I close my eyes and shake my head. “I’m fine. I’m just figuring things out.”
She doesn’t believe me in the least, but she doesn’t push. “Okay.”
“Listen, I gotta go. I’m meeting my roommate for dinner.”
“Oh? How is that going? Do you like her?”
I pause. “I do. But that reminds me, are you paying for the rent?”
She hesitates, and I know she is. “I am.”
“Mom.”
“What? I want to help you through school, Angie. We have the means, I’ve worked my ass off, and we love you. We want things to be easier for you.”
I swallow, the emotion almost too much. I could honestly live by myself, and she’d support me. I just feel that’s so unfair, though. How can I ask that of her if I won’t even visit her? Ugh, I’m such a poor excuse for a daughter. “I know, but I feel bad. I’m the one who chose to come to South Carolina and then move out of the dorm.”
“Yes, for your mental health and to help people, which is awesome! We fully support that.”
I love my mom. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Of course, now that you know, I don’t have to deal with Grandma and Venmo.”
I grin. “She can’t be that bad.”
“The worst, really. She’s such a pain. We want to have a huge family thing once the season is over. We can celebrate you graduating too since you don’t want to walk.”