I’m getting choked up. I swallow, blinking away tears, and force my voice to stay even. “That’s great to hear.”
“How are you doing? How’s work?”
“I got a new job since we last talked.”
“Oh, good for you! Do you like it?”
“It’s…challenging.”
She laughs again. “And a good thing too, or you’d get bored. That big brain of yours needs a challenge. You still with what’s-his-name? Chad?”
“Chet. And no, we broke up.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, honey.”
“It’s for the best. He turned out to be a cheating asshole.”
She clucks her tongue. “There aren’t many men like your father, that’s for sure.” She sighs heavily. “Biggest mistake of my life was leaving him. Have you spoken to him lately?”
“Yes. On his birthday. He sounded good.”
“Good.” She pauses, then says nonchalantly, “Is he still married to that Zoe?”
I smile. “It’s Chloe. But you knew that. And yes, they’re still married. I’ll tell him you said hello next time we speak.”
“Now, don’t go putting words in my mouth, honey. I didn’t say to tell the man hello.”
She’s trying to sound cross, but I know her too well. Not only does she want me to tell him she said hello, she wants me to call her immediately afterward to go over his reply, his tone of voice, and any other detail I can remember.
Like mother, like daughter.
“Okay, Mom. I won’t.”
“I mean…” She clears her throat. “You could tell him you talked to me. That would be fine.”
“Okay.”
We sit in awkward silence for a moment, until she says, “Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”
I always spend it with my dad and Chloe as she’s always been in Vegas with Bob, and I never wanted to go near that binge-drinking rageaholic, but maybe this year will be different. If Bob stays away, maybe she and I can get together.
“Not yet. You?”
“No. Me and Mr. Bones will probably just watch the Macy’s parade.”
“Or you could come to LA if you want. Or I could go down there. It would be great to see you. I miss you.”
Her soft intake of breath is louder than she would like because she makes up a hurried excuse about Mr. Bones scratching her arm to cover it.
“Well, think about it. You don’t have to decide now.”
“I will. Maybe…maybe we could talk again next week? If you want to, I mean.”
The hope in her voice that leaked out before she could catch it makes my heart hurt.
Dammit. I won’t cry. I won’t cry. Don’t cry!
I say softly, “I’d love that, Mom. How about I give you a call at the same time?”
“Sounds good. Talk to you then. Bye, honey.”
“Bye, Mom.”
I disconnect, then flop back onto the sofa and stare at the ceiling as tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
Hope is such an awful thing. A dangerous, awful thing. It drives people crazy.
I gave up hoping years ago that she’d change, that she’d become the mother I always needed, because it was too painful to continue holding on. But with one phone call, that old hope I thought I’d killed off has sprung back to life again like a green blade of grass can spring back after its been trampled by feet.
It’s far too early to tell, but if Bob is gone for good and the sobriety sticks, I might get to meet the woman who’s been missing for more than twenty years.
I scroll through my recent calls log and stare for the hundredth time at the number Cole called me from last Monday. Then I debate with myself for the hundredth time whether I should save it to contacts, delete it, or block it.
In the end, I don’t do anything. I just shut off the phone and pour myself some wine.
Nothing happens Monday at work. Tuesday and Wednesday pass uneventfully too. Then on Thursday, I’m waiting for the elevator to take me down to the cafeteria ten floors below when the doors open, and I’m knocked on my ass.
Between two other people, Cole stands inside.
He looks incredible.
He’s wearing a dove gray suit. His white dress shirt is open at the throat. Freshly shaven, his skin glows with health. A hint of a sunburn burnishes his cheeks. His dark hair gleams under the lights, but it’s slightly messy, as if he’s been running his hands through it.
The way my body reacts to seeing him, you’d think I was jabbed with a cattle prod.