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“Haha. I’m sure he would be,” she says, attempting to laugh it off. I let her. “How many students have you served in the four years you’ve been doing this?”
We go back and forth like this for the next half an hour, with her occasionally dipping her toes in the deep end and me successfully pushing back. Our conversation starts to have a cadence, a pattern of predictability that almost lulls me into complacency for a minute. But then she asks something I was not prepared for.
“How has Cooper Davies being a mentor here affected your relationship with him?” She looks a bit like the cat who ate the canary as she asks this because she knows she worded it in such a way that I need to be very careful with my answer.
I stare at her momentarily, considering my words before speaking. “As I’ve mentioned previously, Cooper has been nothing but a benefit to our program. We’ve had record enrollment with him here, and he’s been an asset. The kids love him.” Hopefully, that’s enough to get her off the topic.
“So are you denying then that you and Cooper Davies are dating?” She gives me a sly smile as if this juicy bit of information will stay ‘just between us girls.’
Fuck. Thoughts of the agreement I haven’t signed about my talking about our relationship run through my head at breakneck speed. I can go several ways with my answer, but decide to go the protective route.
“Cooper Davies and I are not in a relationship.” Something in my heart cracks as I say this, but I think it’s the right thing to do until we figure out what we’re doing.
The interviewer’s eyes sparkle as she follows something behind me, and I turn my head to see what she’s looking at but don’t see anything.
“I think that’s all I need.” She stands and motions to her photographer that the interview is over. “Good luck with your concert. I hope you raise a lot of money.”
She is completely full of shit, and we both know it, but we make nice, she goes on her merry way, and I have survived another interview.
* * *
The interaction with the reporter has put me in the perfect mood to deal with my mother once and for all. She reaches out to me a few times a year, but I’ve always brushed it off. It’s okay for a while, but then I live in constant fear that she will just keep calling. I need to get closure on this situation. I need to put an end to this so I can finally heal. The longer I drag it out, the deeper the scar becomes.
I call her from the Foundation’s phone because she doesn’t have my cell phone number, and I’m not about to give it to her.
When she answers, I don’t pause or hesitate, and I don’t let her talk.
“This is your daughter. You know, the one you fucked over four years ago. I will respectfully ask you to stop calling my place of employment. And, in fact, stop attempting to contact me completely. As far as I’m concerned, we are no longer family. We are no longer related in any way, shape or form. And this is going to be the last time I speak to you.
“There are things in life that are mistakes with good intentions. Even mistakes that are accidental. What you and Dad did to me was purposeful and malicious. Parents are supposed to protect their children, no matter how old they are or what business they’re in. Looking out for your child’s best interest is your number one job, and you failed miserably.
“The lame excuses you gave back then and are probably ready to feed me again don’t matter. They never did. They never will.
“I do not wish you ill. I do not wish you harm. And in fact, I wish both you and Dad a wonderful rest of your life. But it will have to be without me in it. I have come to terms with that and suggest you do the same. Goodbye, Mom.”
As I set down the phone, a weight lifts from my chest. My lungs expand with deep breaths, no longer constrained. The churning tension in my core that I secretly got used to unravels and dissipates, leaving calm in its wake. That was a long time coming, and the overwhelming feeling of relief and, surprisingly, freedom is astounding. I didn’t know it would be this way.
“Good for you,” Fiona’s voice comes from the doorway. I glance up and see her smiling at me through tears that I think are out of pride.
Not a single tear of my own threatens to fall. And I don’t feel bad about that in the slightest.
“Sometimes you need an end to start a new beginning.” I shrug slightly, but the same pride as Fiona’s rushes through me. Two months ago, hell, two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have had the nerve to do this.
It’s about time.
* * *
The next morning, I’m surprised when Fiona interrupts my first class to tell me Cooper is a no-show for the day.
“He didn’t call in to say he was sick?” That doesn’t sound like him. One thing I thought I knew about Cooper was that he cared about the kids in his classes, and he took mentoring those kids very seriously. The knot in my stomach at this news only tightens as I think about it.
“No, he hasn’t called at all. Do you want me to try calling him?”
I have to imagine that for him to not show up like this, something big has to have happened. He would have called if he could or felt he needed to.
“I hate to ask this, but is there anything we should know about online? Maybe someone posted something?”
Fiona pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through social media. “I have an alert on my phone to notify me of stories posted about him on certain sites, and I don’t have any notifications. That doesn’t mean there isn’t something, though. Let me take a look.”
