Page 110 of The Has-Been

Doesn’t stop me from proving to her that I’ll always be here, when she’s ready, no matter how long it takes.

I’ll always wait for her.

“Hey, Mom!” I greet over my phone’s speaker.

“Liam—two phone calls in less than a week…is everything alright?”

I smile, “Yeah, Mom. Everything is great. I just wanted to call and tell you something.”

My mom takes a deep breath, and while her concern would have once annoyed me, it doesn’t bother me like it once did. I’m thankful to have her in my life. Grateful for all she has done for me.

“Well—I thought you might want to know I might be staying on campus a little longer than we anticipated.”

“What?” She gasps, “Is everything alright—has something happened?”

I hurry and explain, not wanting her to worry a second longer. “I’ve decided to apply to med school. I want to be a surgeon—to help athletes like me.”

I giggle as I can practically see her grasping her chest. She claps her hands, making a loud thud.

“A doctor! My baby is going to be a doctor?! Oh, my!” Then, as quickly as her excitement is there, it is gone, replaced by tears of joy.

I think in her mind, she believes I’ll be spending the rest of my days saving lives. And it’s not to say that I won’t make a difference, but I could also tell my mother I was going to do anything at all, and she’d think I was saving the world.

It’s taken a few phone calls for us to pick back up where we left off.

The first one was the worst.

I called her right after Aubrey left. I needed to explain—to tell her what I told Aubrey.

That I refuse to call it the incident a moment longer.

I named it.

I said it. I faced it.

And after a while, she did too.

“Hey, Mom?” I ask after she’s got herself composed again.

“Yes, Liam?” she says, her words holding so much joy.

“Do you have room for one more on Christmas Day?”

She wheezes. “Why of course I do!”

I chuckle, putting my Jeep in reverse and pulling out of the campus parking lot. I’ll be spending a lot more time here when I start med school, and I won’t be able to come home as often as I’d like to. So, I want to make the most of any free time I can now.

She goes into a long speech about still needing to buy presents. Before, I might have been annoyed, might have ignored her rambling. But I don’t mind.

I like listening to her.

“Just one for Christmas, though—you don’t have anyone you might want to bring?”

That snaps me from my trance. But I don’t avoid it. I don’t keep her in the dark. “No, Mom. Aubrey and I—I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I think I lost her for good.”

A heavy sigh escapes her. “Oh, I’m so sorry, honey,” she comforts. “Losing someone you love is never easy.”

And I know she, of all people, knows exactly what that is like.