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After applying a bit of aloe to my shoulders and lotion to my legs, I get dressed in cutoff shorts and a fresh T-shirt, knotting it at my waist. I choose my work tennis shoes because if I’m going to be in with the goats, I’ll want something more protective than my Walmart flip-flops.
I’m about to head out when my phone rings.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer.
“Willow Grace Parker, I have not heard from you in two weeks. Unless you’ve taken up a vow of silence, there’s no excuse,” she replies, a smile in her voice. Funny thing is, she’s not kidding. I did vow to stay quiet once, in protest for something I’ve forgotten about now but which had seemed hugely important at the time. The silence had lasted almost a week before I’d given up. If I remember correctly, it was to beg for a candy bar.
“No vow of silence this time, Mom. I’ve been working six days a week, lunch to close.” She knows that already but has probably already forgotten if she’s been head down in her art or someone else’s.
“Oh, I didn’t catch you at a bad time then, did I? I just wanted to check in and see how things are going.”
“No, I’m heading out, but I have a few minutes. And things are going really well. I went over this morning and cleaned up Unc’s flower beds, without telling him, of course,” I say, smiling to myself. “He’s actually taken the last couple of days off too and left me to take care of the bar, so that’s good progress.”
Mom hums agreement.
“Well, except in return, he gave me today off. Hence, the yardwork,” I muse, seeing her point. “But I left him well set up to sit on his butt all day, and I set Olivia on him. I also filled in Unc’s friends to do a drive-by pre-poker game check too.”
“You are such a kind-hearted girl, Willow,” she says proudly. “How’s Hank look?”
I consider that carefully. “Lean, frail, bit pale sometimes. But he’s fighting hard, which is good. Nobody here seems to know what’s going on with him, so I’m keeping my mouth shut too. Seems like that’s how he wants it.”
“Figures. Stubborn ass is just like Dad. I wish I could come out there, but I think seeing me would just hurt him more. I’m glad you’re there, though, sweetie. He doesn’t know how lucky he is.” She’s getting choked up, and I know that she truly wishes she could be here. Unc was in my life until I was a teenager, but he was Mom’s favorite (and only) uncle for her whole life until Grandpa and him had their row.
She blows her nose in my ear and rallies. “So, a day of freedom then? Are you off to take photos? I’ve seen your recent work, and I must say, the new subject matter you’re discovering there is compelling. You’re doing a phenomenal job of showcasing a different slice of life in stunning detail.”
Her compliments go straight to my heart, meaning more than she could ever know. Mom is an amazing artist herself and knows art when she sees it, when she feels it. So for her to appreciate my work is a huge confidence booster.
I laugh a little, awkwardly telling her, “Yes, of goats, if you can believe that. Bobby’s sister, Shayanne, invited me out to see their goats. And to surprise him, too.”
I told Mom about Bobby after we first met, about his voice and his punching out the handsy customer, but we haven’t really talked much since then for me to share with her the way things have gotten more serious between Bobby and me.
“Ooh, Singing Bobby?” she squeals, as if that’s his given name. “The one with the growly, honey voice and the mean right hook?” Mom clarifies, throwing my own words back at me.
“That’d be him. We’re . . . dating?” I answer.
“That sounded like a question mark. Are you or aren’t you? You can tell me if it’s nothing more than a casual hook-up situation. I’m hip like that, Willow.”
The bad thing is . . . she is. She’s hipper than I am, by far. I could probably tell her that I’ve taken up group orgies wearing horse reins and going full-on pony play and she wouldn’t blink if it made me happy and I was following my heart. But, for all the creative free-spiritedness I got from my mother, I’m more of a prude than she is and not usually a casual sex girl. In fact, I only know about pony play because I watched a video that popped up on my feed, and I’d been careful to clear my history after curiosity got to me just in case the algorithm logistics decided I wanted more of that, because I definitely do not. Not my cup of tea at all.
