Standing in my living room with my packed bag on the couch in front of me, I listened to my mom plead her case.
“I know this is last minute, and I’m sorry. I just decided on a whim. But I want you to come with me. We’ll buy tickets to wherever is available, and then bounce around Europe, going where the food and wine takes us.”
I flopped down next to the unnecessary duffel. “I can’t, Mom. I have to work.”
That wasn’t true. I could’ve easily told Tripp I needed a week or two or ten off, and he would’ve given it to me. I just didn’t want to go.
And that made me feel like a shit daughter.
It reached towering heights of shittiness when she immediately backtracked. “Then I’ll stay. We’ll spend the time together like we planned.”
I tried to assuage the guilt—mine and hers. “No, that’s silly. You should go. You deserve a vacation.”
“I don’t want you spending Christmas alone.”
“I won’t,” I lied. “I have friends.”
“Dina and Kerri already said that Wren and Maddie will be home for the holidays. They each invited us to join them. Maddie is even bringing that lawyer who came to dinner at our house. How weird isthat?”
“Easton is great, Mom. Totally not weird. And I do have other friends, you know.”
“Since when?”
I let her gentle ribbing slide. “A bunch of people can’t get home over break, so I’ll have lots of company. You should go. Have fun and relax and take a million pictures so you can rub my face ineverything I missed out on. We’ll get together as soon as you’re back. You and me, but also all of us girls.”
“Promise?”
“Even if I have to blow off class to do it.”
She made a tsk, sounding more like my mom than she had in a while. “Well, don’t do that. You’re so close to being done.”
A thought that doesn’t send me into a tailspin.
Not as much, at least…
We chatted for a few minutes longer. She peppered me with questions about Maddie and Easton that I was willing to bet my prized pen collection were on behalf of Kerri. In between, she confirmed with me a million times that I wasn’t going to be left abandoned and starved like some Dickens’s orphan. And then she confirmed a million and a half times that I was emotionally okay.
And I was.
I would miss my mom, but after so much chaos, a couple of days alone would be good.
Smart, even.
The perfect reset before the new year.
When we finally hung up—after another reassurance that I was fine—I kicked my bag to the floor and sprawled out. Well, as sprawled as I could get on my small couch that was a fifth of the size of Tripp’s.
I was already three hours into my first binge watch when my phone vibrated on my chest.
It’s probably Mom wanting a written confirmation that I’m good.
But the waiting notification was a generic holiday greeting from my doctor’s office with some helpful tips for reducing stress over the hectic season.
Little late for that.
I deleted the email as an idea started to form.
It was a bad idea.
