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Lark
My cool apartment greeted me as the lock clicked open. It was silent as I stood in the doorway. Just the low hum of the air conditioning.
I sighed longingly into the quiet. Maybe I should get a pet; I thought as I tossed my keys into the ceramic bowl on the side table.
Maybe if I had a big furry dog to greet me, my apartment wouldn’t seem so lonely. I kicked off my shoes, opened the closet, and set them on the rack. I’d never had a pet growing up. My parents could barely tear themselves away from their work to take care of me, let alone an animal.
The urge to call them welled up inside me. When was the last time we’d spoken? A week? Three? I had my phone in my hand before I could stop myself.
The ringing filled my ears as I hung up my purse. My blood pumped with anxiety. My chest ached from it.
“Lark?” My mother’s tone had a question like she hadn’t seen my name on the screen.
“Hi, Mom.” The nerves inside me expanded, making my words tight. I stared at my reflection in the mirror next to the door, shaking my head. It was just my mom.
I heard clicking in the background, like the sound of a keyboard. I waited to feel warmth at hearing her voice. A sense of calm. “Hello.”
Maybe that was why I was calling. A week ago, someone almost attacked me. I’d started a new job. Broke up with my fiancé. My life was in turmoil.
But no comfort came. If anything, I felt worse. A prick of loneliness settled on my skin.
“How are you?” I forced the words out when it was clear she wouldn’t ask.
“Fine.” More clicking and a huff like I was distracting her.
“Brad and I broke up.” My eyes widened, glaring at my reflection. Why had I said that? Why had I even called?
“Hmm… he was a nice boy.” I blinked, waiting for more. Maybe a question about how I was doing. What had happened. But it never came.
Silence stretched with only the sound of the keyboard filling it. The longing intensified. The need to feel important to someone, anyone, especially the woman who birthed me, was an ache in my chest. It burned as I waited.
“Okay, well. I’ll let you get back to work.” I sighed. “You seem busy.”
“Always busy. Sorry to hear about Brett. I’ll call you when I have a minute.”
“It was Brad.” The phone beeped, telling me she’d already hung up.
The loneliness spread through my veins, swallowing me up. My breath fogged the mirror as I huffed out another sigh. Tossing my phone down, I headed into the kitchen.
It’s not that my parents were terrible people, just self-absorbed. During the incident that had prompted me to quit my job, I’d spent three days in the hospital. My mother brought her laptop when she visited so she didn’t miss work while my life was falling apart.
At least she checked on me at all.
I couldn’t even call it selfishness, not when their work was in groundbreaking disease research. Still… it would be nice to be chosen first.
They had all the money in the world to send me to a good school, but no time to get to know me. I didn’t have to work. I could’ve lived off my trust fund. But I had this insatiable need to prove myself. To show them I could make something of myself.
I’d failed at that, too.
Bringing my lunch bag into the kitchen, I rinsed out my travel mug and Tupperware. I’d tried getting my parent’s attention by being the best I could be. But when I’d stood on the stage at my high school graduation as the valedictorian, my parents were nowhere to be found.
My heart pinched as I remembered frantically searching the crowd. With each row that was empty of my family, my face fell. My lip bled from biting it as I held in the tears.
A text told me they were at the lab. It was hard to be mad at them when I knew they helped people. They inspired me to do the same. It’s why I’d become a doctor.
But even that had disappointed them because I didn’t go into research. I wanted to work in a hospital. I wanted to see the people I helped.
They’d tried to convince me against it. Told me how hard it would be. Told me I didn’t have what it took. Turns out they were right.
