“Ha ha.” She adds extra emphasis to each ‘ha’ as proof of my lack of wit.
“Sorry. It really is lovely here though. The sky goes on forever, and the rest is just a lot of trees and fields.” I hope my false bravado is convincing because I refuse to let her know I’m locked in a relentless battle against my urge to make a U-turn and go back to New York. “Every once in a while, I catch a glimpse of the ocean. It’s really lovely.” Damn, I said that already.
“You already said that.”
I suppose I can’t blame her for not being enthusiastic. She was hoping I’d move home, and instead, I’ve added thousands of miles to the distance between us.
“It was a smart move, Mom. You know there’s no way I could afford a place anywhere near Portland. Here, I already own my house outright, and I have enough money left over to write for the next year or so without worrying about how I’ll pay for groceries.” And I can be alone.
“Well, you wouldn’t have to—” She stops herself from finishing, but I know the end of the sentence. You wouldn’t have to pay for food if you came home.
Trying to control the edge in my voice, I say, “I need to stand on my own two feet for once.”
“You need to be with the people who love you most in this world.”
I sigh loudly in lieu of an answer, knowing any attempt at trying to make her understand will fall on deaf ears.
Neither of us speaks for a full thirty seconds, which is an eternity in a conversation. As much as I want to hang up, I know I can’t just yet. We’ve both grown accustomed to the tight wire that holds us together and the way it threatens to snap at any given moment. A small token of peace must be offered so we’ll have an inroad the next time we speak. “How is everybody there?”
“Fine. Same as usual. We’re going to Medford on Saturday. Kaitlyn has a gymnastics competition, so that should be nice.”
“Oh, great. You’ll enjoy that.”
“Yes, I will. She’s so talented, and she works very hard. It’s really something to see.” Meaning that it’s really something I should see.
“Good for her. Well, wish her good luck from Aunt Abby.”
“I will.”
“And hello to everyone.”
She swallows before she speaks again, and I know it was a lecture about staying in touch with my family that she’s just ingested. Switching gears, she goes from guilt to my other favorite, doubt. “I just can’t believe you bought a house sight unseen. What if it’s a scam? Or it’s completely run down and it costs a fortune to fix?”
“It’s fine, Mom. Seriously. I’m not an idiot.” Probably.
“I’ve never once thought you were an idiot. Stubborn, yes. Stupid, no.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“What if it’s overrun with rodents? Or cockroaches?”
“It’s not—can you just give me some credit, please?” I grip the wheel harder than necessary, then remind myself that when this conversation ends, it’ll be weeks before I’ll be reproached for whatever my next horribly disappointing decision might be.
“Well, it’s hard for me to understand how you can sound so sure if you haven’t seen it for yourself.”
“Yet, I am.” Or at least I was until she got on the phone.
“Abby—”
“I should go. I don’t know how much this call is costing me.”
“Fine.”
Silence fills the line again, and it is so much louder than any of our words have been. Countless arguments that will remain unheard. In her mind, I haven’t done even one thing right since the day I met Isaac. She’ll never understand me, and I’ll never bend to her will and become the daughter she wishes she had. Nothing will ever change, and we both know it.
“Drive safely, Abby. I love you.” Her voice cracks and I suddenly wish for the uncomplicated, easy love we shared when I was a child. I can see her smiling down at me and feel my hand wrapped in hers as we walk home from the playground.
She clears her throat, and when she speaks again, her voice breaks the spell. “Call me when you find the time.”
