Page 12 of Love and Other Chances

I arrive home to an empty house. Before I can make my way to the bathroom for a shower, a calendar reminder dings on my phone.

Call Mom.

Flopping onto my bed, I debate ignoring the alert. My mom and I have a good relationship, but I tend to be a bit of an “out of sight, out of mind” type of person. Consequently, I forget to stay in touch with people (the Beefs are my one exception to this natural tendency). I set alerts in my calendar every couple of weeks reminding myself to call my family members, staggering them so I don’t get too overwhelmed. Which means I shouldn’t ignore this one.

It’s a little after 9:00 p.m., but I inherited my night owl disposition from my mom. I know she’ll be awake and kicking. I hit the call icon next to her name.

She answers after a few rings. “Well, hi there! Phone calls from both my babies in one day—this must be my lucky Saturday!”

“Hey, Mom! So you talked to Logan today too? What’s he up to?” I ask. My brother is two years older than me and lives in St. Louis. He’s an engineer who does . . . engineery things. I’ve never quite understood his job.

“Oh, same old, same old,” Mom replies. “Nothing too exciting on the St. Louis front. What about the Brooklyn front? How are you? Anything new?”

“I’m great! A little tired, but that’s only because it was Lake Games day,” I say. A half-second debate about whether or not to mention Brooks to my mom takes place in my mind. But my brain quickly squashes the notion of talking about Brooks any more than necessary. “A little something new—I joined a small group with some other twenty-somethings at my church this year! That’s been a nice change of pace to be around peers without having to lead anything.”

“That’s fantastic, Teegan. I’m so glad you’re making time for that. Have you met some nice people?”

I fill Mom in on the small group members, leaving Brooks’ name out of the mix. Flipping the focus, I ask how her job is going.

“It’s wonderful. I think I’m getting into the groove, and I really enjoy putting my skills to use,” she responds. A few months ago, Mom started working as an executive assistant to the CEO of a small company in Kansas City. She never worked a job outside the home when I was growing up. My dad’s career as a contract lawyer provided well for our family, so when Logan was born, she became a stay-at-home mom.

She was the class mom, the PTA president, the head of the booster club, and every other supportive parental role you can think of. And she wasincredibleat all of it.Everything she touched turned into a well-oiled machine. Mom never met a mess she couldn’t organize. It makes perfect sense that she'd kill it as an executive assistant.

After my parents got divorced my sophomore year of college, Mom struggled with depression for the next year. With help from a therapist and taking medication for a season, her mood improved drastically my senior year. But she still struggled to find a career path after so many years of being disconnected from the workforce. I’m grateful that she’s finally found the right professional niche.

We chat for a few more minutes before hanging up. Before I head to the shower, I decide to text Logan.

Just talked to mom. She said you called today too

LOGAN

Yep. She seems to be happy with her new job. Don’t you think?

Definitely. Which is amazing. All good with you?

LOGAN

Nothing new. Want me to explain what I did at work this week or spare you the space out?

Spare yourself

Not that I don’t love you

Me understanding engineering is a lost cause

LOGAN

Haha, I know. But I love you anyway. And I still don’t completely understand what you do day to day either

And I still love you anyway

“You’re kidding me,” Lana says.

“What’s with all these people from the past showing back up in your life?” Amaya adds, face looking as shocked as Lana’s on our weekly video call.

“Thank you! I’ve been asking God the same question!” I exclaim. I’ve just filled them in on running into Bailey last night. They’re responding with exactly the dismay that I expected from them. Which is the perfect diversion from having to talk about Brooks again.

We briefly reminisce about the AOPi glory days—Lana and I are careful to steer clear of mentioning our homecoming loss to TriAlpha senior year. It’s one of Amaya’s biggest sore spots, despite the fact that she’s killing it in the real world.

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