Page 114 of Courage, Dear Heart

SIXTY-FIVE

Jillian

I hangup the phone after talking to Leonora, with Sheila watching me intently from across the table. It’s been two days since the fire gutted everything we owned and since we were discharged from the hospital. Sheila kept a watchful vigil over me the entire time—fear that I might crumble evident in her worried expression. “She said she’ll meet us at the restaurant. Easier to talk in person.”

“Sounds good.” Sheila stares at her phone in my hand. “Go ahead. You have to do it. The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”

She’s right. I’m dreading this phone call, but I have to do this. Call my parents. I know my mother likes to keep tabs on what’s happening in New York, so she can use it as ammunition to try to convince me to move back home.

I call the house, the number memorized from childhood.

She picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Why are you calling the house number? What numberis this? I don’t recognize it.” It’s a loaded question. And her voice already has a hint of annoyance and worry.

“I lost my phone, and I don’t know your cell phone by heart.”

“What happened? Did you get robbed? You got robbed, didn’t you? Are you okay? Is Jamie okay?”

I want to lie. I want to hang up. I want to go hide under the blanket. “No, Mom. I didn’t get robbed. But there was an accident, and my phone got damaged.”

The sound of her gasp is loud in my ear. “What happened? Was it a car accident? Everybody drives crazy over there.”

I’m making it worse by dragging it out. I take a deep breath and go for it. “Not a car accident, Mom. There was a fire, but we’re okay. No one was hurt. I’m fine and Jamie’s fine and Daisy is fine.”

A wail has me pulling the phone away from my ear. “I’m coming to New York. I’m gonna get on a plane right now and I’m coming.”

This is it. The crying, the screaming, the drama. The reason I left Ohio in the first place. And never wanted to go back. “Mom, you’re not coming here. Like I said, we’re fine. No one is hurt. Not even a scratch.” It’s a lie. There are a few scratches, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Kurt! Kurt!” she screams for my father. “Kurt, we’re going to New York. Call the airline. I need to pack.”

“Mom! Stop it. You’re not listening to me. You’re not coming here. There’s no room for you. The building burned down. I don’t have a store. I don’t have an apartment. I don’t have a place to live.” I regret the last thing I said as soon asit’s out of my mouth. I gave her an excuse to tell me to go back to Ohio again.

“You have to come home. You have to come home right now. What do you need? I can send you tickets. For you and Jamie.”

I don’t miss how she leaves Daisy out. She never liked pets. Her excuse has always been the mess they make. Or how expensive they are. And how they need too much attention.

“Mom, I called to let you know what happened. And let you know we’re fine. Right now, I’m staying with Sheila, and I’m not doing anything else. I have to wait to hear from the fire department investigation and find out what caused the fire.”

“Jillian Elizabeth Heart. You are my daughter, and you listen to me. Either you come home or I come to you. You choose.”

When she gets like this, there’s no talking to her. She put me in an impossible situation. “Mom, I understand you’re worried. And I know you want me to come back. But Ohio is no longer home to me.”

“Ohio will always be your home. I don’t understand why you deny us. Deny your roots. This house was good enough for you for eighteen years. But that boy filled your head with ideas. And look at you now. Homeless, with a child who refuses to speak, and alone.”

Her words are a stab to my soul. I can’t believe that after all these years, she’s still blaming CJ. “Mom, I have to go now. I’ll call you tonight.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about this. You always getdefensive. But it’s the truth. He took you from us and then left you there alone.”

She talks like CJ abandoned Jamie and me. Like he chose to leave. I swallow the rocks in my throat. Choose not to correct her like I’ve done a dozen times before. No use in talking when she gets like this.

When I don’t respond, she continues. “If you don’t call me by eight tonight, I’ll be on your doorstep in the morning.”

I don’t bother telling her I no longer have a doorstep. “Bye, Mom. I’ll call you tonight.”

I hang up and look up. Hand Sheila’s phone back to her.

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