“Yes, of course. Why?” she asks, taking a big bite.
She’s splurging today, apparently. She made homemade whipped cream—something she never does when my sisters and I aren’t home—and we are covering each strawberry that we stuff into our mouths with a generous amount of it.
“I don’t know,” I say, laughing. “These strawberries are just so huge. I thought that they just had to be zapped with something.”
“Well, I got them from Clara at the farmers market on Saturday. She has the most delicious berries.”
“Oh, you’re just saying that because she’s young and is a farmer and you admire anyone who can grow their food.”
“Of course I do! In today’s day and age, what’s more miraculous and uncommon than that?”
I smile, taking another bite. The whipped cream melts in my mouth and cuts the tartness of the strawberry perfectly.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving already,” my mom says wistfully. “I miss you already.”
“I know. The week just flew by, but I’ll be back in two months. For good.”
“For good?” my mom asks.
I think about that for a second.
“Well, I meant the summer,” I say.
“And then?” she asks. “Have you given some thought to what I’d said?”
“Yes.” I nod. “Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t really have a good reason for leaving New York except that I want to, but I’m not completely decided yet.”
My mom smiles and tosses her hair. She has such an easy and effervescent quality to her. She’s absolutely gorgeous, but it looks like she doesn’t even know it. I just hope that in the future, I’m half the put together and confident woman that she is. In fact, it would help a lot if I were that woman already. Then I’d have a lot fewer problems, that’s for sure.
My flight is in a few hours and I go to my room to pack. Wistfully, I put away all the clothes that I don’t need back into my closet. It’s been wonderful wearing all of these tank tops, light, long sleeved shirts, shorts, and capri pants for the week. I must’ve changed my outfits three times a day just to take advantage of all the clothes that I could wear here that I can’t wear in New York. I put away my flats and flip-flops and drag out the Ugg boots that I’ll be traveling in. I’ve had these Uggs since last year, so they are technically my California Uggs, but in New York, I don’t wear them with shorts and spaghetti straps. No, there, these boots are my go-to boots and they’re often not even that particularly warm.
After completely depressing myself, I decide to take a shower. I put on some Miley Cyrus. I’ve decided to quit Adele cold turkey because her lyrics and songs were doing nothing good for improving my mood. I need to listen to happier music, I decided on the plane here. For a whole week, I was happy with Miley and Meghan Trainor. Now that I’m going back somewhere I’m dreading, my heart yearns for Adele.
No, I say to myself silently in the mirror. When you’re starting to feel down, that’s exactly when you need to avoid the things that only bring on more clouds. I skim through my phone for some other music.
Ah!
“Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira.
An oldie, but a goodie. It’s upbeat and fun. Exactly what I need. I turn up the music and climb into the shower.
When I lather up my hair, I hear a knock at the door.
“Yeah?” I yell out over the music.
“Hey, honey? I can’t find my phone anywhere,” my mom says, opening the door. “Have you seen it?”
“No,” I say. My mom is always losing her phone. Honestly, not a week goes by that she doesn’t call me on my dad’s phone, completely frazzled by the fact that, this time, she had finally done it, lost it for good.
“Well, I can’t find it anywhere,” she says. “Would you mind if I used yours? I just have to call your dad about something.”
“Sure.”
My mom leaves and takes my music with her, but the good mood that the beginning of the song put me in doesn’t wear off. I close my eyes and let the hot water run over my face and body. Light streams in through the window. I love the way its warm rays feel on my eyelids. When I open eyes, I’m greeted by a curious blue jay investigating me from the windowsill. I want to wave to her, but I don’t want to scare her, so instead, I just admire the way her feathers dance in the breeze.
Then, right here and now, as I’m watching the blue jay cock her head from side to side inquisitively, for absolutely no reason, something occurs to me.
Oh. My. God.
Noooooooooo!
I turn off the shower and wrap a towel around myself. I don’t secure it well and it falls down right before I reach the door. I have to scramble to get it up over my breasts. My hair is completely soaked and water from it runs down my shoulders. My feet leave little puddles on the hardwood floors.
I look into each bedroom that I pass, looking for my mom. Maybe she didn’t see it. Maybe she just called my dad and that was it. Please, please, please let that be it. My heart jumps into my chest and I can’t take a full breath. I try to slow down my breathing, breathe through my stomach like I had learned at yoga, but I’m freaking out. Nothing’s working. Where the hell is she?
Finally, I get to my parents’ bedroom. Unlike all the other doors, the door to this one is closed. I open it quietly, but don’t bother knocking. I walk in and see my mother sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone. Her
