Mom! Mom, nothing was happening!
Greg was comforting me because I was upset
But oh God, I hate telling her I’m upset. Back in New York, sometimes my roommate would come home crying—someone was mean at work, or she fucked something up, or both—and she’d already be on the phone with her mom as she came in the door. I’d marvel at that, being able to call your mother sobbing, half coherent. The idea of having someone on the other end of the line who wasn’t furious that you didn’t have it together, who would help youfeel better.
sampaguita72:
Why were you upset?
Of all the strange impulses right now, Idowant to call Mom and cry. But what would I even say?
Somehow Trisha chooses that moment to text me.
Trisha:
hi ate ruby, how are you doing with reframing those self-limiting beliefs you listed out?
It makes me feel hysterical, thinking about how I’vereframedmy messy situation.
Ruby:
i’ve been working on it!
how’s school?
Trisha:
such an old person question
but it’s fine
oh have you tried affirmations? those can help
Affirmations?
This man is no match for a messy bitch like me!
Like that?
But before I can puzzle over it too long, more Slack messages slide onto the top of the screen.
sampaguita72:
Is it that man you’re dating?
Is he cheating on you?
My stomach twists. I’m going to break up with him soon, but what if seeing us dressed up together at this wedding will help somehow—convince Mom I’m on the right path in life? I don’t want to ruin this for her yet.
ruby.ocampo:
I’m probably just being jealous for no reason!
You know me! So irrational!
“You okay?” Mark Winterson asks, putting a light hand on my arm at a red light. “Who are you messaging so furiously? Should I be worried?”
“Haha!” The backs of my thighs are sweating against this leather seat. “Just my aunt! She worries. Very protective.”
