Switch

I know my mom wasn't different. But there's always that

sting when you realize what you gave someone hasn't been

enough, even though it was your best.

'I just thought maybe you might…'

'What?'

My mom cleared her throat, a sure sign she was getting

ready to pretend she hadn't done something to piss me off

when she knew she had. 'I just thought maybe he'd seen

you. That's al. Been in touch.'

'Stalked me, you mean?' Angry again, I paced the length

of my living room and then around my kitchen table, and

finaly into my bedroom, where I stopped so I didn't have

to make another round. 'How could you tel him where I

lived, Mom? You know I don't want to see him!'

'You know, Paige, once upon a time you'd have been mad

at me for keeping him from you.'

'Once upon a time was a long time ago,' I said.

'I'm sorry,' my mother said stiffly. 'He caled and asked if I could tel him where you were living. I didn't think you'd

mind. You said yourself you had his number.'

'Mom…' I sighed and pressed my fingers between my

eyes to keep myself from completely losing my temper. 'If

I wanted him to know where I lived I'd have sent him a

card.'

card.'

'I'm sorry, Paige.' She sounded sincere, but I knew her

wel enough to know she was sorry I was angry. Not sorry

because she thought she was wrong. 'I have to go. I'm at

the mal.'

'Okay. Fine.'

'You know,' she said suddenly, 'it wouldn't kil you to come back home every once in a while. Arty misses you.

Me, too.'

I didn't suggest they come up to visit me. Even meeting

halfway would've taken her out of her comfort zone. 'I'l

be there tomorrow night, remember? Taking him to the

movies? Power Heroes? '

'You could come on Friday, instead. Spend the

weekend.'

She might be able to know what my face looked like

without seeing it, but I doubt she knew about the shudder

crawling over me at the thought.

'I can't. Busy.'

She didn't push it. 'Okay. Fine.'

We were so alike, sometimes it was scary. Which, of

course, was one reason why I'd moved away. We hung

up.

I stripped out of my clothes and headed into the bathroom,

wishing the conversation could be washed away as easily

as soapsuds down the drain. Growing up, I'd lived with my

mom in a series of low-income-housing apartments, rented