“Maybe things have changed. You don’t know unless you talk to her.”
“I know my mother. Trust me, nothing’s changed.”
The phone stopped ringing. A minute later, a voicemail notification appeared.
Esmeralda looked at her. “At least listen to it.”
“I will. Later.” Sarah shoved the phone in her pocket. “Did you need something else?”
Esmeralda sighed but didn’t push. They went over the linen reports, discussing replacement schedules and vendor contracts. Professional. Safe. Nothing to do with mothers or family or the past Sarah had spent years running from.
After Esmeralda left, Sarah pulled out her phone. Stared at the voicemail notification. She should delete it. Pretend it never happened. But she pressed play anyway.
Her mother’s voice came through slurred and thick.Sarah, baby, it’s Mom. I know you’re busy down there in Florida living your fancy life, but your father and I really need your help. We got kicked out of the apartment. We just need a little help. Five thousand would get us back on our feet. That’s nothing to you. Call me back. Please, baby. We’re desperate.
The message ended. Sarah sat there staring at her desk.
Five thousand dollars. That’s nothing to you.
Her vision blurred. She wiped her eyes quickly, but tears kept coming. Stupid. She was being stupid. Her mother had made her choices. Sarah didn’t owe her anything. But the guilt sat in her chest anyway. Heavy and familiar.
The door opened. Lizzie walked in with her phone and a huge smile that faded the moment she saw Sarah’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re crying.”
Sarah wiped her face. “Just a foolish situation with a relative. It’s not important.”
Lizzie closed the door and came around the desk. She pulled Sarah up and wrapped her arms around her.
“Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Sarah pulled away gently. “How’s the party setup going?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Please. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Lizzie looked like she wanted to argue but nodded instead. “The party setup is good. Everything’s ready.”
“Good. That’s good.”
They stood there in awkward silence. Sarah could feel Lizzie studying her face, trying to figure out what to say.
“I should get back out there,” Lizzie said. “But I’m here. If you want to talk.”
“I know. Thank you.”
After Lizzie left, Sarah sat back down and deleted the voicemail. Again.
***
That evening, Sarah unlocked her apartment door and found Lizzie already inside making dinner. She’d given Lizzie a key two days ago. It had felt natural, right.
“I made pasta,” Lizzie called from the kitchen. “Hope that’s okay.”
