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But that girl in the picture—me—she’s a girl who was so naïve to the pain the real world was about to show her, all smiles and tears of happiness. Too bad I couldn’t have prepared her for what was about to happen just a few weeks later.
I haven’t spoken to my mom in weeks, but that’s normal for us. Our communication has become sporadic since I left home, headed for UCLA, and I haven’t returned. It’s not for a lack of trying from my parents. It’s been my choice not to go back to a place that only holds painful memories for me. I ran away from there and vowed not to go back—ever.
Knowing I have time to actually hold a conversation, I decide it’s probably a good idea to let my mother know that her only daughter is still here.
“Hi, Mom.”
“She lives!” My mother laughs at herself. “I was beginning to think I might have to come out to California and see for myself that you’re still breathing.”
“Dramatic, much?”
“Where do you think you got it from, darling?”
My mother’s right. My loud, opinionated, take-no-prisoners attitude is a direct inheritance from her, and I’m damn proud of it. They say some men don’t like loud women—well, I don’t like men who can’t handle a woman who isn’t afraid to voice her opinion, laugh out loud, or stand up for herself. And lord knows, I’m a little bit of all three.
“I got it from my mama.”
“Yeah, you did. So how’s it going? It’s been awhile since we’ve spoken. Anything new?”
“Uh, yeah, actually. Work has been crazy. I got assigned to a sports team, so that’s been interesting.”
She goes silent for a minute. “Which team?” she asks hesitantly because she knows the sensitivity of the subject.
“The Los Angeles Bolts.”
“Oh, boy. Are you okay, baby? I thought you told your boss you didn’t want anything to do with athletes?”
“I did, but he blew smoke up my ass and told me there’s no one else he would want for such a high-profile client, so here I am managing over fifty grown men, making them dress up in princess ballgowns and do charity work while smiling for the cameras.”
Pride comes through in her voice. “Well, at least you’ve shown them what you’re capable of right out of the gate.”
“That was the plan.”
“So what exactly are you trying to accomplish for the team?”
I spend a few minutes explaining my goals for the next few months, leaving out my inappropriate and confusing relationship with Maddox.
“Well, I hate to say it, but it sounds like your boss put the right person on the account.”
“You have to say that because you’re my mom.”
“No, baby, I don’t. But I know that you are damn good at your job. Charles is right. And even though I know this must be difficult for you, I’m proud of you for pushing through.”
I sigh, settling deeper into the couch. “It’s definitely been taxing.”
“Bring some memories up for you?”
“You could say that.”
“You know, it’s been a long time, Penelope. People have moved on here... maybe it’s time you did, too.”
“I have moved on, Mom.”
She sighs. “No, baby, you ran away.”
Damn. She just called me on my shit. And now you can see exactly where I get it from.
“Look, everyone deals with grief in their own way, but maybe it’s time to forgive yourself, even though you did nothing wrong. And perhaps working with this football team will help you heal a little.” We both sit there in silence for a minute, waiting the other person out before she finally says, “We miss you, Penelope. Your room is still the same way you left it all those years ago. It’s been months since we’ve seen you, and that’s only because I convinced your dad to spend Christmas in California this year. He nearly had a heart attack when we entered your home and you had a Christmas tree the size of a small bush. Life is too short—”
