My dad has a new family, and I only see him a few times a year. Most people assume I would be super damaged by this, but I’m actually ok with it. My mom was always more than enough. My parents weren’t happy together, so I’m glad my dad moved out, and they got a divorce. They’re both much more content now.
When my mom was sick, I was terrified every day. If I lost her, I knew that was one thing I would never recover from.
She did the chemo though, and she’s been healthy for a while now. I was at her side for every single hospital trip, and the whole experience only solidified my desire to become a doctor.
I know in my head that my mom is healthy now, but every time when I can’t get in touch with her, even if it’s only for a few hours, I freak out. I start to spiral as I imagine her passed out on the floor of our small house back in Schenectady or being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance while her cell phone rings and rings with my fruitless calls.
So I’ve been holed up in the library since lunch, trying to finish a paper. The assignment isn’t very long, so I should have been able to knock it out in under an hour, but it’s been almost three hours, and I’m nowhere near finished because I’m distracted by the fact that my mom’s not picking up her phone.
I grit my teeth together. In all likelihood, she’s probably out puttering around her garden or meeting with her sister for lunch or something. But my logical side is not winning today. Every once in a blue moon, my emotional side shoves all my pragmatism in a dungeon and throws away the key.
I abandon my stuff for the fourth time to duck into the bathroom and call my mom again.
At long last she picks up. “Sweetheart! How are you?”
“Mom, I’ve been calling you for hours,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “Why weren’t you picking up.”
“I was in a pilates class and then grabbing lunch with Susan.” My mom lets out a little laugh, completely unbothered by my clear annoyance. “You shouldn’t worry so much about me, Cynthia, it’s my job to worry about you.”
I let out a breath and a bit of the tension leaves my shoulders. It was as I expected; I’ve been worried sick, and she’s been spending an afternoon with my aunt. No matter what she says, I will always worry about her. It’s hardwired into my nature.
“Well, I wasn’t that stressed,” I mutter.
“Oh really?” My mom chuckles. “You know you can’t hide from me, sweetheart.”
I nod as I look in the mirror. She’s right. My mom is the only one in the world who completely understands me.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“Oh, I just got an email about my student loans for medical school, we need to fill out some more paperwork,” I say.
“Forward me the email, and I’ll take care of it.” My mom speaks with firmness. I’m prone to try and do everything myself, but she likes to let me know she’s there for me. I think she still feels bad for how much I had to take care of her in high school. She shouldn’t. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
“Ok, I’ll forward it this afternoon,” I say. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” my mom says. “And what else is new with you?”
“Nothing much.” I shrug. “I had an exam today that was a bit tricky, but other than that, school is good.”
“There’s more to life than school.” My mom’s voice is warm and heartfelt. “Are you taking time to hang out with friends? You’re going to miss undergrad life after you graduate, I guarantee.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” I smile and try to sound as cheerful as possible. “I promise, I’m enjoying my final days as a senior.”
“Good.”
“Alright, I gotta go, but I’ll call you later or tomorrow, ok?”
“Sure, have a good evening!”
I hang up and exit the bathroom. I’m glad she’s doing well, but my bad mood hasn’t evaporated. I’m still worried about those loans, and I’m still grumpy about the exam. I glance at my phone and see that Becca texted about dinner. I should answer. And apologize. But I’m not really in the mood to be social so I’ll have to skip dinner. Which Becca will be sensitive about since she’s getting all sentimental as graduation looms closer.
Between her and my mom, I’m being told to enjoy my last two months of college so much that I want to scream.
Of course I don’t blame them. After beating cancer, my mom knows to appreciate every second of life. And Becca is coming from a place of love too. We’re going to miss each other when we go our separate ways. Even so, I can’t help feeling judged when my mom and Becca tell me every day to enjoy myself and socialize more.
Because implied in those sentences is their belief that I clearly have not enjoyed myself enough. I haven’t socialized enough. They think I’m a sad virgin who studies too much.
I slouch back in my chair and stare at my computer. I’m being angsty and bratty, I know, but I’m having a rough day. I promise that, for both my mom and Becca’s sake, I’ll make more of an effort to spend time socializing with friends. I can’t promise them that I’ll set up and get a boyfriend or recklessly hook up with a string of one-night stands, but I can go out to dinner or have a few drinks with people now and then. Who knows? I might enjoy myself. It’s not likely, but it’s possible.
As for right this moment, I just want this day to be over. So I pick up my phone and text Becca telling her that I’m sorry about earlier, I’m just in a bad mood. I tell her I can’t do dinner, but
