I wish I had such easy escapes. Instead, I’m often left sitting in the seat by the window where he used to paint me, staring out at the dark waves, bitter in the knowledge that I’ve gotten everything I asked for. It’s hard to imagine that I thought I wanted this… but back then, I suppose, I didn’t know what it was like to feel the weight of Claude’s attention, his fingers brushing against me; to see him on his knees in front of me as if in prayer.
But that only leads to spiraling. I try to think of other things. To lose myself in my books and self-care. But Claude haunts the house when he isn’t here. Such a short time together but already I have so many memories of him, in the kitchen, in the dining room, in the studio. Inescapable.
I told him I wasn’t going to let him break my heart, but sometimes I fear I’ve broken my own by pushing him away.
Then, one night, I wake to a missed call from my mom.
I stare at it, and stare some more. Do a quick search online to ensure I haven’t missed some huge news, but the internet has no answers. Why would she call me now, of all times? Finally receiving my attempt at contact from months ago, when I needed help with my rent?
I shouldn’t call back. I should be furious that it took her this long to deem me worthy of a response. But… I so badly need someone to talk to right now, and against my better judgment, I presscall.
She picks up, which is unheard of. On the second ring, which is evenmoreunheard of.
“There she is! Hi, Nora.”
Again, I want to be angry at the fact she answers like nothing is wrong, like she didn’t ignore me for months, like we haven’t been low-contact ever since I was eighteen and left home without a word. Instead, I find myself getting choked up at the sound of her voice.
“Hi, Mom.”
“It’s been too long, sweetie. I was wondering when I’d hear from you. How is everything?”
“It’s…” I take a deep breath, blink away tears. “Well, complicated. Didn’t you get my text a few months ago?”
“A text?” There’s a sound of shuffling on the other end. She’s distracted by something else. Either her art or her van, I expect.“…Oh, yes! Yes, sorry, darling, I was without a phone for a while. You know how it is.”
“Right…” Pushing my glasses up to rub at my eyes, I try to think of what to say. How much to tell her. But just as I open my mouth to launch into it, she speaks first.
“I was thinking I should come visit soon. I miss the West Coast.”
It takes me a second to process. “…Really? You haven’t been here in years.” I should say no, but it’s tempting right now, the idea of having company in this big, empty house. “You should probably know, um, I don’t live in LA anymore. I’m up north a bit, and… well, I’m with someone.”
“I was wondering when you were going to tell me the news!”
“What?” I pause, brow furrowing.
“You know, I was looking through an art magazine the other day, and it was covering some new vampire’s opening show—interesting stuff, though not to my tastes…” Another pause as she rustles something on her end, though I have a sinking suspicion where this is going. “And as I was looking through the pictures, who did I see? My lovely daughter! On the arm of Lord Claude de Vulpe, nonetheless! It gave me quite a shock, I’ll tell you.”
Shit. I shut my eyes, bracing myself. “I’m…”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. My own daughter, a valentine, and I didn’t know! I mean, no judgment, of course. I just didn’t think you had it in you, quite frankly.”
I clear my throat. “It… was a surprise to me, too.”
“Sure, sure.” I’m not sure she’s even listening to what I’m saying. “But anyway, as I was saying, I’d love to come visit and meet him.”
Realization is a cold pit coalescing in my stomach. “…That’s why you finally called.”
“Hm?” She’s half distracted, as always.
“You didn’t call because you were checking in on me,” I say. “You called because you wanted an introduction to Claude. I should’ve known.”
There’s a long pause. “Honey,” she says. “That’s not—”
I hang up before she can finish the sentence. Before she can hear the sob tear out of my throat. I fling my phone to the other side of the bed and sink down, head in my hands. The weight of grief settles on me again, heavier than before.
I’m so alone, and such a fool. I’ve always known that the only person I can rely on is myself, but for a while, I had almost started to think…
A knock at the door startles me. I gulp back tears, trying to steady myself enough to answer.
