My phone stops ringing, and I look up at my friend. “Why is she calling me? We haven’t spoken in weeks.”
Willow gets up and comes around to crouch down beside me, placing her hand on my knee. “You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to. But…” Her voice trails off with a hint of sorrow. Having lost her adoptive father when she was younger, Willow knows the pain of losing a parent.
Except mine aren’t dead.
They’re just not talking to me.
Which isn’t all that different from how it’s been my entire life, I suppose. But that doesn’t change the fact that deep down, I’ve always longed to have some sort of a relationship with them. One that doesn’t feel like I’m an afterthought. Or like I somehow owe them for simply being alive.
My hand drops to my stomach, feeling the slight rounding that popped out this week. I’m just under seventeen weeks along, so the nausea has fully subsided and I finally have some energy. Just in time, seeing as the season is in full swing, and both Dan and I are going nonstop. I’m anxious to feel the baby move, even though my midwife has cautioned me it’s normal not to have felt it yet.
I just hope Dan and I are together when it happens so he can experience it as well.
I can’t help but wonder how my mother felt when she was pregnant with me. Did she get excited to feel me kick? Or was it just another annoyance? Something to be endured, not cherished.
“I guess I should see what she wants,” I finally say.
“Only if you actually want to,” Willow says firmly. “You don’t owe her anything, Lark. Not a goddamn thing.”
“She’s my mom,” I whisper, my voice cracking at the end, and Willow pulls me into her arms.
“I know she is, but even so, if she doesn’t treat you right, then she doesn’t deserve your energy or time.”
I pull back and pick up my phone. “You’re right. I’ll see what she wants and then decide.”
Willow stands. “Do you want some privacy?”
My head moves side to side. “No, stay. Please?”
She moves to the chair next to me and sits down. I take a deep breath and call my mom back.
“Hello, Lark.”
“Hi, Mom. Sorry, I couldn’t answer when you called. What’s up?”
There’s a long pause. I start to fidget in my seat, and Willow raises her eyebrows.
“I was hoping you would meet me for lunch later this week. I checked the Tridents’ schedule, and it seems the team is in town. Would that mean you’re available?”
My mouth falls open in complete shock. It’s not the meeting for lunch part that has me flabbergasted. It’s the fact that she took the time to check the team’s schedule instead of demanding I make time and then being annoyed when I try to say I’m away or working. I can’t recall a time she has ever been this considerate of my schedule and responsibilities.
It feels a little like I’ve somehow landed in the twilight zone, to be honest.
“I…I.” I stumble over my words, clear my throat, and try again. “Yes, I can meet for lunch. Tomorrow or Thursday?”
“Wonderful. I’ll make a reservation for us, say, noon tomorrow at Pescados?”
Of course, she names a fancy seafood restaurant, even though I have never liked fish. But I’ll get a salad or something, I guess.
“Sounds good, see you then.”
“Goodbye, Lark.”
We hang up and I again stare at my phone in disbelief.
“I guess I’m on my own for lunch tomorrow?” Willow asks lightly, breaking the tension. I look up at her and nod.
“Guess so.”
