The call connected. I popped a piece of the turkey sausage Ishmael had prepared for breakfast into my mouth as the phone rang. It wasn’t until the third ring that the difference in time registered with me.
Shit.
“Hello?” Grogily, she answered.
“I’m sorry. You’re sleeping. I didn’t realize what time it was.”
“No. No. It’s fine.”
“I can call back lat–”
“Royce. I’m awake now.”
I peered down at my feet. Ishmael’s slides covered parts of my feet, protecting it from the cold floor. Regret filled me. I wanted my mother to rest.
“And, it’s becauseI want to talk to you. So, fix your face.”
I smiled. She knew her children well. Each of us.
“Now, talk to me. You have something to say.”
“I do.”
“Then, let me hear it.”
“I met someone.”
“Ishmael.”
“Who have you been talking to?”
“My children.”
“Teddy?”
She quieted.
“It was him.”
“Why does it matter who told me?” she laughed.
“Because, he’s always been vocal when it concerns me.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. It’s not. Not at all. Sometimes I just wonder– you know.”
“Wonder what?”
“Why?”
“As much as you wonder, he worries.”
“He doesn’t have to. I’ll be fine.”
“He knows that. But he also knows that things changed for you when Richie died. Your father was your rock. Your stability. Your safety net. It was pulled from under you with hardly a warning. Simultaneously, Teddy was away. He still hasn’t forgiven himself for not being here.”
“He should.”
