Page 14 of No Place Like You

I nod. “I got this.”

I give a sad little sigh in Annabelle’s direction and walk into the airport. After an hour-long wait at the check-in counter and the glaring stare from the not so friendly TSA officer at the metal detector, I finally get to my gate. Once I’m there, I settle with a loud huff into a seat, tucking my carry-on bags close to me so they’re not in the way of foot traffic.

I have my phone in my hand, aimlessly scrolling through my social media feeds, when it buzzes in my hand. “MOM” in big, scary, bold letters flashes across the screen.

“Hello?” I answer warily.

“Did I catch you at work?” I guess there’s no need for formalities likeHi, how are you?when you’re talking to your parents.

“Uh, no. I’m—it’s my day off, Mom.”

“Have you talked to Natalia recently?”

“Yeah, I talked to her last night.”

“So you heard?” she exclaims. I can hear the excitement in her voice, her using a monumental amount of restraint to avoid ruining the news if it hadn’t made it to my ears just yet.

I can’t help the warmth spreading through my chest that has me smiling. “Yeah, she told me.”

She squeals into the phone, and I truly can’t remember the last time I spoke to her on the phone and she sounded this excited. It seems every time we talk, it’s about how job searching is coming along or to tell me where to add “good at communicating” on my resume to make it stand out to future employers more. “I’m so happy for her!” she says giddily. I can almost picture her feet making a small hop and her fingers waving wildly in front of her.

“Me too,” I answer with a smile. “Hayden’s really amazing.”

“I’m so proud of him too,” she adds. “He’s been doing so much with the restaurant, and now that they’ve moved in together and they’re engaged, it’s just so perfect for them.”

“Yeah, I’m really happy for them.”

“How are things with you? Did you get my email?” she blurts, abruptly changing the subject. “It was for that job listing near your place. I think they were holding a job fair next week.” The shift in her voice is so apparent, I want to go back to talking about my sister when my mom sounded happier and carefree.

“Yeah, I got it,” I answer, holding back the disheartened sigh rising in my chest. “I’ll check it out.”

“Good,” she answers contently. “It sounded pretty promising. They had plenty of openings and?—”

A loud and really difficult to disguise announcement sounds on the intercom. I panic-press the buttons on my phone, slamming my thumb across the screen in an attempt to mute the call before I bring it back to my ear.

“—and it’s pretty close to you so you don’t have to worry about a long commute.”

I sigh.She didn’t hear it.“Thanks, Mom,” I finally answer after the announcement has passed and I unmute my phone. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Okay,” she answers softly and a little defeated.

I feel like the biggest pile of disappointment in the world. Why can’t I just do something right in my life? Why can’t I do something my parents could be proud of instead of slabbing on worry after worry onto their already full plates? Instead, we have to share phone calls about job hunts and resumes and whether or not I’ll be able to pay rent next month. When will I be the one to shower her with good news like Nat?

“And, Lucy, I’m really glad you decided not to apply for that internship,” she adds. My body freezes, and I hold my breath. “I don’t mean to bring it up again, but I want you to keep your focus on finding a job. You know, internships aren’t really promising. You’ll probably end up getting coffee all day instead of doing actual work, and I don’t want that for you. Maybe if you were still in college or something, but you’re almost thirty now. You shouldn’t be wasting your time doing grunt work for something so temporary. You’re so much better than that.”

“Yeah,” I answer with a weak, dejected voice. “I get it, Mom. It’s fine.”

“I love you, baby. I just want what’s best for you.”

“I, um, have to go,” I finally say after a long pause. My voice cracks, and I try to disguise it through a rough throat clearing. “I’ll call you soon.”

“Sure,” she answers, her voice a little lighter. “I’ll email you again if I find any more job leads.”

“Yeah, thanks, Mom.” I pause before adding, “And I love you too.”

I hang up and grip my phone in my hand, hoping all of this—the internship, the fruitless job searches, the sporadic calls from my mom asking me about those job searches in a forced optimistic voice, attempting to sound supportive instead of worried—will all change.

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