CHAPTER ONE
Ipick up the call right before it goes to voicemail. “I’m on my way,” I shout into the phone. I wave goodbye, blowing air kisses to Eliza and Zachary as I grab my bag. “Just a second, Mom.” I pull my phone away briefly from my ear. “Bye, my littles,” I sing-song as I continue to wave my goodbyes to the most well-behaved kids I have ever had the privilege of babysitting. Their mother, Molly, mouths a very grateful, “Thank you.”
I wink. “I’ll see you next time.” My voice rises as I wrestle the door closed behind me, not allowing any further chance for conversation. I can’t. There’s no time.
Molly barely arrived home from work in time for me to make it to my birthday dinner this evening with my parents. Twisting the knob once again to ensure it is locked behind me, I checkmy watch before hurriedly walking away from the apartment.
Now that I’m out of the chaos, I take a deep breath, replacing the phone against my ear. “Okay, Mom. Sorry. Are you there?” I listen on the other end of the line and hear what I think is a sniffle.Wait, what?My eyes widen, and my lips part as my mind catches up to this unfamiliar sound. “Mom? Are you…crying?” I stop mid-stride in the hallway, trying to determine whether or not she is, something I think I’ve seen her do maybe once, while I continue listening for the tiniest sounds to confirm it. When I don’t hear anything on the line, I briefly move the phone away from my ear to check the screen, wondering if the call has accidentally dropped. I frown, seeing that the call is still connected.
I repeat myself, stopping when I hear a sign of life coming from her side. Then she finally answers. “N-no. I mean, I’m just sad that my daughter is entering a new phase of life. Twenty-one years young.” She sniffles. “Where did the time go?”
Bullshit. That’s my first response, but then I remember we don’t lie to each other. It’s my mom. We are always honest with each other. My shoulders sag in relief, and I feel the anxiety lifting. I have never known my mother to cry. She is more of a “if I am crying, you better run because I will take you out” kind of woman—her words, not mine, and I love her for it. She never cries tears out of sadness, or at least none I have ever witnessed, except when my grandmother passed away, following her husband into the grave a decade later.
She takes another breath, and this time, I can tell she is trying to hold back her sobs, and I am pretty sure that it isnotbecause of my birthday. I’ve never seen her like this. Frankly, I am kind of scared. I have nothing to compare this to except a gut feeling telling me not to let this conversation go.
“Are you sure, Mom?” My heart begins racing, and my breathing feels shallow. “Please…” I plead, begging her to tell me, no matter how cruel this truth could be on my birthday. I need to know she is okay. I bite my lip, wondering what could have upset my mom so thoroughly that she is lying to me about her crying on the phone. We don’t have secrets. We are not that type of family.
If my mom cannot be honest with me right now, then I amconcerned more for her mental health and her need to keep whatever is bothering her from me. My mind begins to run through scenarios. Maybe it is because it’s my birthday, and she doesn’t want to ruin it with terrible news. Perhaps she will tell me later. Or maybe she is waiting for the right time.
Rapid-fire questions shoot through my mind without any resolution. I force myself to continue the trek to the car. Mindlessly placing one foot in front of the other, the sounds echo in the dimly lit corridor. I reach the elevator button and press the down arrow, illuminating the circular button that will take me to the parking garage.
“Don’t worry about me, honey.” Her voice sounds strained. I can visualize her trying to smile through the tears. This has the absolute opposite effect. It makes me worry all the more. “I will see you at the restaurant.” I hear her swallow. “I am just waiting on your fa-ther, and then we will leave shortly.” I hear the mention of my father and her inflection of that one word, which takes up two syllables to force out in an interrupted breath, and real worry overtakes me.
Is it something with my dad? The elevator door dings, and I stand there immobile. Is he okay? “Mom,” I say, but my voice is a little shaky this time, matching hers. The elevator doors close, but my feet are planted firmly on the floor, fixed on this pivotal moment and this call I silently pray not to end. Or at least not to end without me finding out what is wrong.
She ignores my pleas and continues. “Just give the hostess your name, and she will take you to our table.” Her voice is firm and resolute. I hear her take another breath before she replies, “I love you, Nadia. Remember that.” She promptly hangs up, not allowing any further questions, and I am left bewildered, wondering what the hell just happened. My mouth is dry. I lick my lips, pocketing my phone as I hit the button again. The elevator doors open, and this time, I step through.
My eyes shift back and forth with each scenario that comes to mind, like a slideshow, as I conjure up reasons for her behavior. A deep sense of foreboding settles deep in the pit of my stomach, and it drops along with the cab’s descent toward the parking garage. Myintuition tells me to call my mom back and demand that this dinner be called off, to find out what happened, and get to the bottom of this. However, my brain tells me that I’ll see them in a few minutes, so waiting should be okay.
I hear my shoes tap on the concrete slab as I quickly approach the car, hitting the key fob. The chirping sound reverberates in the concrete garage as I open the car door and slump into the leather bucket seat. It feels cool against my leg, causing goose bumps along my flesh as a shiver sweeps through me. Or maybe the unsettling feeling in my heart makes me feel that something isn’t quite right. Shaking it off, I hit the button to illuminate the seat warmer setting despite the warm weather outside. I start the car and place it in reverse, and as I exit the parking garage, my mind remains preoccupied with our recent conversation as I navigate through the streets on autopilot. Stopping at all the red traffic lights and keeping pace with the steady flow of traffic at this time of day, an ominous sense of trepidation fills me as I continue to ponder what could be happening.
It came across as so much more than what she led me to believe. Is it just my mom being sad about me getting older? Images fly through my head of coming home from college to visit. Since I’ve been in college, I’ve only seen her this sad, and that was when I left for college in my first year. She hugged me, telling me I’d understand when I become a mother and my own child leaves to know how hard it can be on a parent. My dad told me they were going to do more things together as a couple since Mom wasn’t coping well with the empty nest situation, but she did seem happy when I saw them over winter break that year. Her mood had improved, and they both seemed happy. So no, that can’t be the reason then.
Whatever it is, we will talk about it later. I calm my breathing and realize I’m just working myself up. I have to trust that my mom will let me know what happened when the time is right. I audibly sigh, releasing the negative energy and breathing in positive thoughts in an attempt to change the somber mood to a more favorable one in preparation for seeing my parents.
After finishing up another school year, I took a little trip with one of my best friends, Savannah, so I haven’t had the chance tospend time with them yet. I only just dropped my stuff off at an empty house before going to one of my regular nanny jobs when I am home on breaks from school, but this will be the first time I have seen them since the holidays.
After tonight, we are off to spend the summer at our lake house. It has been in our family for years, passed on from my grandparents on my mother’s side. I relax, thinking about all my beautiful memories with my parents, and I wish we could leave tomorrow instead of next week.
I look forward to spending time with them every year, and this is no exception.
As I pull into the restaurant, I know that this year will be more memorable than all the others because it will be one of the last times I can spend with my family and best friend before I graduate from college and join the workforce. But for now, I’m glad not to have to grow up just yet.
CHAPTER TWO
As I enter the packed restaurant, my mood officially turns one-eighty. I practically skip to the hostess station, stopping abruptly and placing my hands at the podium, where a young woman greets me with a genuine smile and kind eyes. “Hi. I am here for a reservation under the name Kennedy.” I feel like I’m shouting at her because of all the noise.
She looks at her computer screen and then glances up—a mischievous twinkle lights up her eyes. “You don’t say,” she replies in a teasing voice. I would think she is about to prank me from the look on her face if I didn't know better. I tilt my head assessingly. Her smile widens; her poker face is shit. “Of course, Nadia. Please follow me, and I will take you to your table.”
I follow her and wonder how she knowsmy first name. It’s odd, but I shake it off, following her to the back of the restaurant, where the doors are closed. Maybe we went to high school together? I am about to ask when she raps her knuckles on the door, holding onto the sliding door handle.
“It’s just right through here,” she says, looking back at me. With a flourish of her hand, she encourages me to enter. I push forward, side-eyeing her. “After you, my dear.”
I lift a singular eyebrow at her theatrics. She winks at me, but I don’t have time to question her as she slides the rustic-looking barn door across the track. I attempt to step through but halt mid-stride. My hand goes to my heart in an attempt to stop its erratic beating as I am greeted with a loud echo of voices erupting in unison, causing me to stagger back in shock.
“Surprise!” I look up, glancing around at the familiar faces in the room. I’m taking in the scene before me when my best friend approaches me.
“Happy birthday, Nadia,” she says as she envelops me in a hug. My smile couldn’t be any more expansive, but it drops just a bit as I scan the room, searching for my parents and coming up empty.
