You could act like an adult and tell her. The voice of reason sounded suspiciously like her grandma. Lena put down the crinkled pizza menu and held up the letter instead.
Before she could change her mind, she tore it open and shook out the single sheet, ripped from a legal pad. Her mother’s uneven handwriting covered most of it. The words tumbled over the page like drunken dancers, and the trembling of Lena’s fingers didn’t help to decipher the text.
Lena took a deep breath and pressed the page to the table. She could do this. She scanned the page.
Nothing new. Only the regular reminder her mother suffered in prison because she hadn’t the money to buy the daily necessities.
Like painkillers and drugs. Not that her mother would spell it out for the guards to read.
It continued with the accusation that Lena owed her because she’d been the sole heir of Grandma.
Yeah, right. As if she’d seen a penny of her inheritance after she’d paid off her mother’s bills.
The letter ended with a plea to pick up the phone the next time she called.
Not one question about Lena, about her life or health or financial struggle.
Not one word of affection.
She crumpled the paper into a tight ball and flung it into the recycling bin. It bounced out of the woven basket and rolled over the floor until it ended up at her feet. Like the pinecone she’d mangled on her walk with Jess.
A strangled laugh escaped Lena, halfway to a sob.
Why did she let her mother get to her like that? She’d prided herself in being over her, but that wasn’t true. She’d allowed her unresolved anger at her mother to color her interaction with Jess. That wasn’t fair, neither to Jess nor to herself. She needed to work on getting over her pain.
Lena jumped up and paced from the kitchen to the living room and back, picking up the discarded letter. Her mother was right even if Lena hated to admit it. They needed to talk.
Before she could change her mind, she dug her old cell phone from the desk drawer and plugged it to the charger in her kitchen. After a moment, it sprang to life with a series of loud beeps. Ten missed calls. Lena didn’t need to check the numbers, only one person ever tried to reach her on this phone. Her mother must be desperate to talk to her. How long would it take until she tried again?
Please let it be soon. Dread churned in her stomach at the thought of waiting for days, always on edge. If only Lena could control the timing of the talk, but calling the prison wasn’t possible and traveling all the way to Illinois for a face-to-face meeting wasn’t in her budget.
As if the universe had heard her plea, the phone started to ring. The shrill tone sent shivers down her spine. She hadn’t prepared, she wasn’t ready, she wanted to shut it off and crawl into her bed.
Oh, no. You don’t. Lena stabbed the button to answer the call. “Walker.”
A mechanical voice advised her where the call came from and that it would be recorded, followed by her mother. “Lena? Is that really you?”
“Um, hi, Caroline.”
“Why didn’t you take any of my calls? Do you have any idea what it takes for me to get in line here?” Her mother snorted, a sound so familiar that Lena could almost see the accompanying eye-rolling. “Of course not. You’re free to come and go as you please.”
“I’m sorry.” Lena leaned against the kitchen counter. The wood was solid behind her back.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m calling because you need to make a deposit in my account. Did you get my letter?”
Lena twisted the cable of the charger around her index finger until the blood flow was cut off. The sharp pain was a welcome distraction. This wasn’t what they needed to talk about. “I did, but—”
“And why didn’t you send me money already?” Her mother’s voice sounded harsher than the last time they talked. Did she smoke more?
“I can’t.” Lena whispered the words but that wouldn’t do. She swallowed and tried again, louder this time. “I can’t send you money.”
“Can’t or won’t? You don’t realize how it’s inside. If you hadn’t bailed on me, I wouldn’t be here. You owe me because you’re my daughter and—”
“Stop it.” Lena had enough. She let the cable twist off her finger and stood straighter even though her mother couldn’t see her. “You’re in prison because you decided to scam people instead of working an honest job or two. I’m in debt because I decided to trust you and support you. We’re both paying for our decisions. I can’t give you any money, and even if I could, I wouldn’t. I’m your daughter, but I don’t owe you anything.”
Her mother didn’t answer. Had she hung up? No. Static crackled and the faint sound of breathing proved she was still there.
Lena clutched the kitchen counter with one hand. “Caroline?”
“Don’t call me Caroline, I’m your mom.”
“Really? You want to go there now?” Lena clenched her teeth. “I’m not a kid anymore, waiting for you to come home. Waiting for attention and approval. I had to grow up fast when I had to pick up the slack for you.”
Again, only static answered her.
Lena used the pause to regroup. She’d never before spoken to Caroline like that. Her anger diminished with every word as if voicing it gave her the chance to let it go.
“Are you talking about Tammy?” Caroline sighed, but this time the overly dramatic way didn’t tug at Lena’s heart. “You know I had migraines. I have them still, that’s why I need medication. That’s expensive. That’s why I’m calling, honey. You’re the only one who can help me.”
Twenty years ago, Lena would have given anything to hear her mother call her honey. Even ten years ago she’d been elated. Now only sadness filled her. Sadness for the lost chances and for the woman who had
