Aria tilted her head up at me. “You’re sad again.”
I blinked quickly and looked away toward the sink. “I’m not sad.”
“You are.” She frowned. “Your eyes do the shiny thing.”
I swallowed hard. “Maybe just a tiny bit, but it’ll pass.”
She thought about that for a second. “Why don’t you call your mom now?”
A humorless laugh escaped me. “It’s not that easy.”
“Why?”
I stared down into my coffee. “We haven’t talked in a very long time.”
“How long?”
“Ten years.”
Her mouth fell open. “Ten years?” she whisper-yelled. “That’s, like… ancient.”
I huffed out a laugh despite the ache in my chest.
“You’re brave, Violet,” she continued seriously, “just call her.”
I looked at her, considering the simplicity of her words. It was really simple like that.Call her.It would be good to hear her voice, even if I couldn’t tell her about her grandchild or what I’ve been doing for the past ten years.
Aria slid my phone across the table toward me. “Do it now. Tell her you’re sorry for not calling for ten years and then talk to her.”
My fingers curled around the phone while I stared at the screen.
“Okay,” I breathed to myself. “You can do this.”
“Yes, you can.”
Aria jumped to her feet and left the room, then before I could lose my nerve, I scrolled to the number I still knew by heart and hit call.
The ringing started.
Buzzz. Buzzz. Buzzz.
“Hello?”
My breath caught and ten years disappeared with that one word.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think.
“Hello?” she repeated, cautious now.
My eyes burned. “Hello, Mom.”
A sharp inhale followed. “Violet?”
Tears spilled before I could stop them, and I pressed my hand over my mouth as the first sob escaped me.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”
Sweetheart.
