I run off the stage after our soundcheck and eagerly grab one of the bottles of water that the crew has waiting for us. For the first time in what seems like so long, I’m feeling amped up and excited for a show. I high-five each of the guys as they grab their own waters and head towards the dressing room to catch up with the rest of the group and do our pre-show rituals.
As soon as I put my guitar away, my phone starts ringing in my pocket. I pull it out and the screen flashes with a phone number I don’t recognize with a Maine area code. By the time I make the connection, I’ve already answered the phone; there’s only one person from Maine who’s information I don’t have that would be calling me.
“This is Grayson Harris,” I murmur into the phone, wandering out of the dressing room so I can deal with this by myself.
“Hi, baby,” the voice on the other end says.
It sounds weak and strained. The pangs of guilt in my chest keep me from hanging up. This has been a long time coming, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready for it.
“Hi, Mom,” I reply. “It’s been a long time.”
Trying to get my voice not to waiver is harder than I expect it to be. It’s been twelve years since I’ve talked to her. It’s more like talking to a stranger who I definitely shouldn’t be callingMom.
“You sound so grown up,” she says.
I can hear in her voice that she’s crying now.
“Joey sent me a picture of you two together. I’d forgotten how much she looks like you, Grayson. You’re both so grown up now.”
I know the picture she’s talking about.
Johanna had made me take a picture with her and posted it the day before on her Instagram. She’d captioned it ‘twins or nah?’—because Mom isn’t wrong, we really are the spitting image of each other with our identical dark blue eyes and dark hair.
“What else did you talk to Joey about?” I ask her, aware that she knows more than what I would have wanted her to, as usual.
There’s no way that, even though she left home, Johanna completely cut ties with her.
“She told me you all are coming to New York soon,” Mom admits.
Of course, Johanna told her about the tour.
I understand why Mom is calling now, and I can’t help but wonder if Johanna planned it this way.
“You want me to come visit you.”
The irritation in my voice is clear no matter how hard I try to hold it back.
“I know Johanna told you about my… situation,” she says. “I also know I haven’t tried to change how things have been between us, but please, Grayson, tell me you’ll think about it before you write it off.”
I agree that I’ll take some time to think about it, and we hang up.
I stand in the hallway, staring at my phone in my hand, conflicted and even more unsure of how I feel than ever.
The obvious next step is to go see her and say, what, goodbye?
How can I say goodbye to someone I don’t really know?
I need more time than what I’m being given, but I know I don’t have that.
“She said she was going to call you,” Johanna’s voice says from behind me. “Sorry, I should’ve warned you.”
She walks over to me quickly and wraps her arms around me. Feeling like I’m going to fall apart at any second, my sister’s embrace is the only thing keeping me together. But at this very moment, thousands of people are piling into the venue expecting me to put on a spectacular show, and I can’t give them anything less. Breaking down will just have to wait.
“You need to see her, Gray,” Johanna whispers. “I’m not saying this because I’m trying to get you and Mom to reconnect or because I have my own agenda. I’m saying it because I know you will regret not going for the rest of your life. I see it already starting to eat at you, so don’t let it get any worse. You are strong enough.”
I know in my gut she’s right, that going home is the right thing to do.
“Do you want me to get Mia?” Johanna asks, her arms still wrapped around me and my chin resting on the top of her head.
