Mom hasn’t been calling me too much lately, mostly because I’m always busy and rarely answer my phone. I quickly snatch it up off the table and hit the answer button, standing from my seat in the library and grabbing my bag to leave while I whisper, “Hello?”
“Hi, honey!” sings my mom. She must be in a good mood. I feel a little wave of relief. There must not be anything bad or urgent going on, which is never a certainty with my mother.
“Hi, Mom,” I say and smile into the phone. Despite all we have been through, she is my mom, my only immediate family and the person I love most in the entire world.
“How are you? I hope you’re not working too hard!” she asks as I hurry out of the library, trying not to disturb anyone by talking on the phone.
“Oh, you know, I like to stay busy,” I reply quietly, wondering why she’s calling.
“I just wanted to discuss Thanksgiving plans with you,” she says, immediately answering my unspoken question.
I smile. I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving at home. When my dad was alive, the three of us would enjoy a feast. Dad was the chef in the family, though. He loved making all the traditional Thanksgiving foods. After he died, my mom and I came up with our own tradition. Neither of us is great cooks, so instead we splurge on everything we want from a fancy Chinese restaurant. Then we watch cheesy holiday movies while consuming our meal, our stomachs aching from fullness. We light a candle for Dad and write down and share the things we are thankful for. My mom and I have celebrated together this way every year ever since my dad died. It’s familiar and comfortable, and I’m looking forward to just hanging out with my mom on the couch. I miss her hugs. My mom gives the best hugs.
“I can’t wait,” I say at a normal volume, now that I’m standing outside the library building by the book return receptacle. “I’m planning on leaving here tomorrow to drive back. Do you want me to pick up the Chinese food on my way in?”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for a moment.
“Actually,” my mother says hesitantly, “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind a small change of plans this year.”
“Oh? What did you have in mind?”
“Well, my friend Darlene—you know Darlene? I think you met her last time you were home to visit. Anyway, Darlene arranged a cruise for a bunch of her girlfriends and asked me if I wanted to go!” She sounds so excited.
“When do you leave?” I ask.
“Well…that’s the thing, we leave tomorrow for a week,” she says softly.
“Oh,” I say, frowning in disappointment.
“But I don’t have to go!” she adds quickly. “I know it’s last-minute, but one of the girls just dropped out and it’s too late for her to get a refund, so Darlene said I could go completely free!”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I say, hoping I sound convincing. “You should go have fun with your friends. We can get Chinese food some other time.”
“Are you sure? Because I haven’t told Darlene for sure I would go yet…”
“Mom, please. It sounds like a great opportunity. I mean, how often do you get to go on a cruise for free?” I try to sound lighthearted, even though I can feel tears stinging behind my eyes.
“Well, thank you, sweetie! I knew you’d understand. You’re so busy with school and work anyway that I figured you wouldn’t mind too much.”
“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” I agree weakly. “There’s a ton of stuff I should do at the office anyway.”
“Great! But try to have some fun over break too, okay?”
I was supposed to have fun with you, I think bitterly, then feel bad for being so mean. My mom should go on this cruise. It’s great that she’s making new friends and enjoying herself, and I should be supportive.
“I will, I promise,” I say.
“I love you, honey! We’ll plan a weekend visit together soon, okay?”
“Yeah, that’ll be nice,” I say. “Have a good time, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetie! I’ll send you pictures from the ocean!” Mom says gleefully.
“Okay, can’t wait to see them. Bye, Mom.”
“Bye, sweetie!’
I hang up the phone and try not to get upset. This will be my first Thanksgiving without my dad or my mom. I truly am happy that she’s having fun with friends and trying something new, but I can’t help but feel a little left behind.
I think back to the night that my dad died. I feel the wind blowing through the passenger window, hear the song playing on the radio, and see the tiny crow’s feet on the outer corners of my dad’s eyes as he laughs. I shudder.
No matter how much time passes, it still hurts. It probably always will.
When I think too much about my dad and get upset, the only things that help make me feel better are spending time at home with my mom or working in the law office. Whenever I’m working on a case in the office, or even doing menial tasks like running copies, I feel like I’m working toward my goal of becoming a lawyer. And I have to become a lawyer so I can help families like mine who deserve justice.
I feel a burning in the lining of my stomach when I think about the drunk driver who hit us. A few measly hours of community service and a fine. That’s all he got for killing my dad and irreversibly changing my life, and my mom’s.
I couldn’t do anything about it then, so I will spend my life making sure it doesn’t happen to other families.
I’m still staring at the blank screen of my phone, overwhelmed by my thoughts, when it lights up again, this time with “Clara” and a picture of her with a cute animated filter that makes her look like a bumblebee. I’m so startled I immediately hit the answer button.
“Hey, wow, the phone barely rang!” Clara laughs. “I totally wasn’t expecting you to even answer.”
“Well, I did,” I say, clearing my throat. “What’s up?”
“Are you okay? You don’t sound so good,” says Clara, her voice instantly switching from bubbly to concerned.
That’s the great and terrible thing about best friends—they almost always know what you’re thinking and feeling, even when you don’t know yourself.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I sigh.
“No, you’re not, I can tell. What’s going on?”
“It’s just… My mom just called and canceled our Thanksgiving plans.”
“Wow, that blows,” says Clara sympathetically. She gets it. “Is she okay? It’s not because…”
“No, no, nothing like that. Everything’s fine,” I say quickly. Clara knows all about my mom’s struggles with depression and alcoholism, so it’s not strange for her to assume that could be the cause of the change of plans. “It’s good, actually. She’s going on a cruise with girlfriends instead.”
“Oh, well, good for her!” Clara says encouragingly. “But still, that sucks for you. I know how important it is to you to have that time with your mom.”
“Yeah… I’ll survive. I have tons to do at the office anyway.”
“Um, absolutely not,” Clara says incredulously. “You’re not spending the holiday at that stuffy office or the stupid library. I won’t allow it.”