Eli
“What the heck is your problem?”
Not the words I want waking me up on a Sunday morning, especially when it’s my mother delivering them. Shielding my eyes because she turned the light on without warning, I have to force my voice to work. “I don’t have a problem.”
“You do now. Your girlfriend is gone.”
Gone? Girlfriend? “Emma?”
“Do you have other girlfriends?”
I barely have one. “No.” I push the covers down and slide my sore legs out and place my feet on the floor. “Did she go on another walk?”
“No. She left a note saying she took a taxi to the airport. Alone.”
“Shit.” I run my fingers through my hair. I need a cut. “Why?”
“Why?” Mom’s voice has gotten progressively louder and with that, the pitch has increased. She’s at least two octaves higher than her normal voice. “You’re asking me why? Of course she left. You treated her like crap the second you walked in the door. And I want to know why.”
“Mom—”
“Don’tMomme. Spit it out right now, Elijah James Baxter.”
Crap.She used all three of my names which means she’s not messing around. Placing my head in my hands, I squeeze my eyes shut, recalling the night I told her about the tryout. “Dad was right about her.”
“Oh, pah-lease… your father is rarely right about anything.”
Choosing not to address that comment, I tell her the truth. “The night I told her about the tryout she said she was glad I was going. She told me to think of the money.”
Mom is silent. For a long time. Maybe three or four minutes. It feels like an hour. When she finally speaks, she asks, “What else did she say?”
“When?”
“That night. When you told her about the tryout. What else did she say?”
I have to think about it. “Um… I’m not sure I remember.” I know she said some other things. “She asked me if this is something I really wanted.”
“How did you respond.”
“I said yes.”
“What else did she say?”
“She, uh, said that if it’s my dream, I had to try. That I was getting a chance that a lot of other people didn’t have. That I was good at the hockey—”
Mom smirks. “Good atthehockey?”
“She knows nothing about the sport.” Nothing. Still. Even after us being together for a while, she hasn’t yet made it to a game. “It’s then she mentioned the money part.”
Mom approaches my bed and sits next to me. Placing her hand over the top of mine, she gives it a squeeze. “Do you want to know how I see her words?”
No. “Yes.”
“I think she was telling you to follow your dreams. Not to let her stand in your way—”
“Mom….” I groan and rub my face with my hands, trying to wipe the sleep away. Then it hits me. She’s right. I can see that. It’s exactly what Emma was trying to tell me. She told me to go. To follow my dreams. And without uttering the words, she was telling me to do it even if it meant leaving her behind. “Shit.” Emotion hits me like no other time in my life. I feel the burn of tears and don’t bother trying to hold them inside. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“Yes.” She pats my hand. “You are.” Muttering, she adds, “More like your father than I care to admit.”
