The truth.
Then maybe stop mailing her groceries and try giving her the truth.
After an hour of watching the sun creep onto my bedroom wall, I finally call Ma.
I’ve been avoiding it for months—years, really. But Annie was right. Ma deserves to know.
The phone rings twice. She picks up with her usual, “Hey, Nico. You good?”
“Hi, Ma.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a…”
“It’s a no,” she finishes for me.
I sit on the edge of my mattress, the sunlight dragging its way across the floor like it’s too tired to shine. “Ma, I need to talk to you about something.”
“I figured. You only call this early if someone’s dead, in jail, or pregnant.”
“I’ve literally never called you for any of those things.”
“Well, it’s the sentiment that matters.” There’s a pause. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I mean—no.”
“Talk to me.”
So I do.
I tell her everything.Everything. Not just aboutHarlotandNakedReactions—although I do avoid the more salacious DMs I get. I tell her about my PhD program, my choices, why I moved back home. I tell her about Annie. About the girl who made me brave. Brave enough to admit it to my mom. About the week that changed everything. About the night I didn’t believe her, not fast enough, not loud enough. About how I lost her.
I wait for her disappointment. Or judgement.
“Huh,” she says. “I wondered.”
I brace myself. “What?”
“I wondered how a grad student could suddenly pay off my medical bills and start sending me care packages from Eleven Madison Park.”
“You… you knew?”
“I didn’t know, Nico. Didn’t I just say Iwondered? But I’m your mother. I knew something. I thought you were a drug dealer, to be honest.”
“What?!”
“Oh, please! Is being a drug dealer better or worse than being a porn star, huh? Listen, times are hard for the ninety-nine percent, inthiseconomy, everyone’s gotta make sacrif?—”
“Butme?Drugs?!The guy who invented and experimented with lembas bread recipes until he found the ‘accurate’ one?!”
“You always have those pocket gummies!” Before I can remind her that they are now legal in the state of New York, there is a loud crashing sound, and I know Ma has thrown her hands up in exasperation and her phone has gone flying.
“But truly?” she says over the rustling of the retrieval of her phone from the ground. Her voice warms. “I’m proud of you.”
My throat tightens. “Even with how I did it?”
“You betcha bottom dollar,” she snorts. “You think I care if you showed your ass online to keep us afloat? Half the womenon this block would pay to see you shirtless. I brag about you at bingo.”
