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Naomi swiped the phone. “We can totally do it after then--”
“Wait.”
I wrung my hands and remembered the moment in the car when Mom was vulnerable and told me that she felt left out. That she just wanted to be a part of my day. She could be a bit much and sometimes she made me want to pull my hair out, but she was still my mother and I loved her.
I took the phone and Naomi left the room without another word, pulling the door closed with a muted click.
I dialed the island code and plunked out my mother’s number, bringing the phone to my ear. It rang countless times and I held my breath, sure I’d hear the voicemail. Be let off the hook.
I gripped the armrest as the rings stopped and I heard her voice. “Hello?”
“Mom?”
The line went quiet, and I almost took it away from my ear to see if it was still connected.
“Hi sweetheart,” she said finally, her voice unsure. “How are you?”
Tears built in my eyes and I was overcome with emotion. “I’m getting married.”
“That’s what I hear.” she chuckled. Neither one of us said anything for a moment and I just listened to her breathe, picturing her standing next to the wall in the kitchen, twirling the phone cord around her finger.
“I never meant to push you about the wedding, Leila.”
My heart clenched into a fist. “You didn’t?”
“I just couldn’t stand that woman railroading you with the ceremony,” she continued. She let out another sigh, one full of sadness of regret. “I tried to help and I ended up railroading you too.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I said weakly. “Really.”
“No it’s not. I’m kinda overbearing.” She snorted. “Hell, I’m being overbearing now and won’t even let you finish a sentence.” She was quiet, giving me the stage to finally speak, but I wasn’t sure what to say.
“When you were little, you used to come to me and tell me all about how the girls in your class picked on you.”
I sat back in my chair, a frown pulling the sides of my mouth downward. A childhood of bullying and my mother’s ‘turn the other cheek’ response was the last thing I wanted to think about.
“It broke my heart to see how hurt you were. To see you doubting yourself and wondering if what those little monsters said was true. And I debated how to tell you to handle them.”
Her response had always been pacifist, sticks and stones and whatever. The kind of ‘Just ignore them’ approach of someone that never had to deal with bullies attacking them, day in and day out.
I was about to cry all over again, and not tears of happiness.
This call was a huge mistake. “Mom, I should probably--”
“I should have told you to fight.”
My mouth fell open. “W-What?”
“Not beat them down, because that would have opened up a whole new world of problems. I’d be lying if I said I’d get no satisfaction at ringing their skinny little necks though.” She cleared her throat, getting worked up.
It made my face burn warm, a smile creeping in to replace the frown. She hadn’t just shrugged it off. She cared, all of this time.
“I should have told you to stand up for yourself,” she continued. ‘To look them right in the face and tell them that you were beautiful and kind and someday, you were going to do amazing things. Like finish top in your high school and college graduating classes with a full schedule of clubs and honor societies under your belt. That you’d get your dream job and work with actresses like Rachel Laraby and save the lives of young stars who were as lost as you once were. That someday you’d fall in love with a billionaire and his love for you would be so great that it shone in every picture.”
The tears came one after the other as I gripped the phone.
“Don’t ever apologize for standing up for yourself, Leila,” she sniffed. “Because I couldn’t be prouder of you.” She let out a thick laugh, each note coated with tears. “I hope I’m not messing up your makeup.”
I avoided the mirror, smiling. “That doesn’t matter right now. I love you, Mom.”
