Page 81 of Switch Pitching

I could use that as an excuse to wait and buy myself a few more hours or days, but I wouldn’t accomplish much by delaying. It’s clear that I’m putting this off by waiting, but I’m not ready to make the call right away.

“Maybe after four?” I say, glancing at the clock on the oven. It’s not even noon, but by saying something out loud, I give myself something to stick to.

“Four sounds okay,” James agrees, his tone gentle. “That gives you time to think.”

I stand up and pace around the kitchen. Sitting still isn’t helping, and I need to do something with myself.

“I’m gonna go work out, maybe clear my head a bit.”

After grabbing my headphones from the counter, I head to the home gym and try to focus on my push-day workout. I load up the barbell with more weight than is probably safe without James here to spot me, but I’m beyond caring at this point. Every time I think about calling her, my chest tightens. After about thirty minutes of an intense but half-hearted workout, I give up and head to the ridiculous spa-bathroom next door to rinse off. As I turn around to rinse the conditioner out of my hair, I see the covered hot tub.

It was always way too hot out to use it ever since we moved in, but it’s October and I’m stressed, so it’s time to try it. Shutting off the water, I towel off before realizing that I’m about to get wet again, and then uncover the tub. Someone from the building comes by every week to maintain this thing when we aren’t home, paid for by our condo fees, so I turn the bubbles on and sink right in.

This is so soothing. I’m mad at myself for not using this before today.

James appears a few minutes later and retrieves a bucket of smooth rocks from a drawer next to the hot tub.

“Uh, here. These are supposed to, like, relax you or something,” he says, approaching me with the rocks. He proceeds to place one on my head.

I chuckle, even though I know he’s being thoughtful. “Those are supposed to go on my back.”

He grins. “It still feels nice though, right?”

“Yeah, it does,” I agree.

James leaves me to stew in my emotions and the bubbling water, and after a while, I pull myself out of the hot tub after my fingers adopt a concerningly raisin-like texture. After getting changed, I head to our home office which we only use for interview calls, and James follows me in.

“You ready?” he asks, sitting down in the black armchair across from the desk.

I give him a terse nod, even though I don’t think I’m ready at all. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Do you want privacy for this? I’ll still be around if you need me.”

Fidgeting with a pencil, I hesitate before stopping him. “Stay. Please. I can put you on speakerphone.”

James sits back down. I power up the conference phone on the desk which I don’t think either of us have ever used since moving in, and punch in my mom’s work number. It’s always been the same, and I know the seven digits by heart.

I’m greeted with a low, monotonous beep. James looks over sympathetically as I stare at the phone, wondering what’s going on.

“The line might be busy,” James suggests, before trailing off.

“Area code,” I mutter. “We aren’t in Maine, and this is the first time I’m calling her from out of state.”

I jiggle the receiver and reset the phone before dialing again, this time remembering to add the all-important 207 before her number. My hand hovers over the last digit for a moment, myheart pounding in my chest, but then I hit it before I can think too much.

The phone rings twice before I hear her voice on the other end.

“Anna Edwards, Tax and Advisory,” she says, her tone polite and professional.

“It’s me,” I manage to say. “Ethan.”

“Ethan,” she says, her voice softer. “I’m so glad you called.”

I swallow hard. There’s no turning back now. My chest tightens, and I grip the phone a little harder, trying to keep my head straight.

This is her, the woman who stood by while my dad threw me out of the house.

But this is also the woman who wrote me an email, apologizing for all of it. The woman who left my dad because of what he did.

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