I hadn’t spoken to her in months; we hadn’t exactly parted on the best terms, and I had studiously avoided her calls ever since I’d left Michigan. But now enough time had passed that I’d stopped feeling resolute and started to feel guilty. After all, our issues aside, she was still my mother and I couldn’t just wish her away just because it was easier that way.
Taking a deep breath, I picked up and answered. “Mom?”
“You answered,” she replied, sounding genuinely shocked.
“I’m full of surprises.”
“Don’t I know that.” Her tone had an edge to it.
“Mom… We haven’t spoken in months; please don’t start with me.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the air. “How is life in San Diego?” she asked, apparently choosing to listen to me this time.
Grateful she had conceded, I was more than happy to answer her question. “Great,” I replied. “I love it here.”
“You settled in okay?”
“I did.”
“Where are you living?”
“An apartment block about a half hour from where I work.”
“Is it…okay?”
“It’s small,” I said. “But the neighborhood’s decent.”
“Do you have any friends?”
“Not many, to be honest,” I said. “But I did make one good friend. We met at the gym and see each other at least once every week. Her name’s Melody; she’s not native to San Diego, either. She moved here for college and then loved it so much she decided to stay.”
I could tell that Mom couldn’t care less about Melody, but it was safer to talk about her than anything else. I could sense Mom’s tone changing slightly, and I hoped she wasn’t going to go there.
“And work?” she asked. “How’s work?”
“Great,” I said shortly, before attempting to change the subject. “How are you? You haven’t told me what you’ve been up to lately?”
“That’s because this is the first time you’ve deigned to answer my call in months.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. “Mom…”
“I know, I know… You don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “But sometimes we have to talk about the things that are uncomfortable. We didn’t exactly leave things on the best of terms.”
“Because you refuse to let me live my life,” I said. “Because you refuse to acknowledge that I’m a grown woman capable of making my own decisions.”
Mom actually snorted at that. “Please.”
“What?” I demanded.
“It’s not a question of making decisions, Kristen,” she said curtly. “It’s about making the right decisions.”
“Oh that’s rich, coming from you,” I snapped.
“Excuse me?”
“Is Ted still around?” I demanded. “Or has he left you again?”
There was a heartbeat of silence from the other end. “Dad,” she corrected. “Would it kill you to call him dad?”