I try again. Nothing.
My chest tightens in that familiar, unwanted way. I don’t know why but I call my sister, hoping she’s around for a change.
No answer.
Okay. No. Absolutely not.
I start calling neighbors. Friends. Anyone whose number I have saved underin case of emergency. Ten minutes pass in a blur of unanswered calls and rising panic, my mind sprinting ahead to worst-case scenarios.
Finally, my phone rings.
“Maxine,” my mom says cheerfully.
“Mommy,” I exhale. “Where are you? I was worried sick!”
“Out grocery shopping with Justine,” she says. “You know that grocery store is underground so sometimes the signal is bad.”
I blink. “With…Justine?”
“Yes, baby. She offered.”
I don’t know what to do with that information. Shock fights relief, and relief wins by a mile.
“Oh,” I say. “Okay. I—wow.”
She laughs. “You sound surprised.”
“I am,” I admit. And I hate that it’s true.
“Well, don’t be. I’m fine. She’s fine. And now I’m about to put on a pot of greens.”
I shake my head, smiling. “Okay, Mommy.”
“Justine just walked in,” she says as I’m about to hang up. “You want to talk to her?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “That’s okay. I’m just glad you’re good.”
She doesn’t push. She never does. We say our goodbyes, and the line goes quiet.
Justine and I have a strange relationship, one that has always existed in a gray area. My mother has spent years keeping the peace by saying nothing at all, allowing us to remain at each other’s throats. Maybe it’s the age gap. Maybe it’s the fact that she has moved through life expecting privilege, and I resent her for it—the way she was granted choices I never had as the eldest, the one burdened by default with cleaning up her messes.
She exists in my life as my sister, but I’ve never figured out how to make her anything more than that. She is a permanent fixture, but she has never been a friend. But her showing up for our mother was a nice surprise. Perhaps a way for us to begin bridging the gap in our relationship.
Maybe people can surprise you.
Maybe they can change.
Maybe, on rare occasions, they show up when you least expect it.
I exhale and dial Timantha next.
No answer.
I stare at the screen for a second, then let out a small laugh.
Fine.
Maybe this is God telling me to relax and stop trying to manage everything. To let people handle their own lives the way Timantha’s been preaching for months.
