The Real

“You watch too much crap,” she scorned.

“Mom, Ted Kaczynski lived in the woods. Okay? The Unabomber. People only go to the woods to make moonshine, cook meth, inbreed, plot murder, execute it, and bury the bodies.”

“Or hunt, fish, relax, and enjoy nature.”

“Or in Oliver’s case, hide from the newly-jaded wench of last week.” My brother was a playboy who often created his own drama. Growing up, he was a handful and caused enough trouble for both of us. And so, my mother decided to place all her lofty expectations on me. She loved him unconditionally because she had no choice.

“He’s probably impregnating,” I added.

“I hope so. I’m honestly to the point I don’t care as long as he gets a baby momma, so I get a baby.”

“Mom!” I admonished with a laugh. “You don’t really want him to reproduce, do you? I mean, the ego on that punk.”

“You two are taking forever,” she scolded. “I thought you and—”

“Did you call for any other reason?” I interrupted. She was going to go on about my ex, Xavier, like she always did. We broke up years ago. And I think her heart broke more than mine had. I didn’t have the patience to relive that conversation.

“Yes,” she piped happily. “Come over, I’m making you lasagna.”

“No. Mom, I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but I just want to chill at home.”

“Okay, baby, but the invitation is always open.” I could hear the disappointment in her tone. I was being a shit to my own mother.

I pulled out my card and tapped it for entrance before I headed toward the train. “Am I mean?”

“Mean?” She laughed. “No, honey, you have a heart of gold and a mouth like no other. You are no bullshit and refuse to give false compliments. A lot of people love the bullshit, but they especially love the false compliments.”

“So, I’m bitter?”

“A little, but who isn’t? That comes with living, and you aren’t fresh-faced anymore. You’re no spring chicken.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said as I walked the long corridor glancing around to see I was alone.

“I just mean that you’re no dummy. We raised you to be picky, Abigail. We didn’t want you settling. And aside from that idiot you almost handed yourself to last year—what was his name?”

“Exactly, let’s not,” I said as my spine pricked in awareness. All she knew was that I was dating Luke. And the scary part was she wouldn’t have remembered his name. But Bree would have.

“Enjoy the lull, baby girl. I promise it will pick up, and when it does, it might not set you back down. Listen to your elders.”

“I listen to you. I always listen to you,” I said proudly. My mother was a Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist and humanitarian. Her pictures had earned numerous awards across the globe and had changed countless lives. She was healthy at sixty-three, was still married to the love of her life—my father—and still fulfilling every dream she could fit into her enormous life. And though it was full, she refused to stop stuffing it with more of whatever her heart desired. I had one hell of an example set for me.

“You are something else, you know that? You’re probably researching your next trip while you stir the sauce. Only my mother would try to save the world while making me a lasagna.”

“You put too much faith in me. My lasagna isn’t that good.”

“Yes, it is, and so are you.”

“Flattery, huh?” She laughed over the line.

“I’m trying to be more personable. How does it sound on me?”

“Like you’re trying too hard. And you are nice. You’re a bleeding heart, you know that? Listen, honey, I know you want everything now. It’s been that way since you were little, but you need to want what you have now.”

“This is becoming a little lecture-ish. And I’m trying, finally trying to stick my neck out there.” If she only knew what an understatement that was.

“Abbie, you’re beautiful, successful, and totally independent. I’d say my work is done, but I hope you never really stop needing me.”

My heart broke a little with her words. Maybe I was those things before I met Luke, but I was still struggling to get that girl back. So many times, I’d wanted to tell her what happened, and at every single opportunity, I choked. It was no different as I stood mute with the phone in my hand waiting on the subway. She took that silence as confirmation I needed more encouragement.