Dad chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Good. Just don’t come crying to us if it doesn’t work out.”
I grinned at him. “I think I’m willing to take that chance.”
And with that, I left my parents’ house, ready to face whatever came next.
WHY DID I CALL HER?
REBECCA
Iwas walking back to my hotel after spending the morning in the local market, doing some last-minute shopping with Maya before our trip came to an end. It was hard to believe that after all this time, my vacation was already wrapping up. The last couple of weeks had been a much-needed escape from everything—my job, my endless to-do lists, and, well,everythingthat had been tangled up in my mind with Luca.
I didn’t want to think about that, though. I didn’t want to think abouthim.
The sky had turned gray as we made our way back to the hotel, and the distant rumble of thunder only made everything feel heavier. The kind of weather that made me feel like I was living in some overly dramatic romantic comedy, where the protagonist contemplates life choices while staring out a rain-streaked window. Except, in my case, it was more like regretting all of my choices.
I walked into the hotel lobby, the warm, cozy smell of coffee filling the air, and suddenly I had the urge to call my mom. Maybe it was just the melancholy of the rainy day, or maybe it was the fact that I felt so… stuck. My mind was a mess of feelings I couldn’t untangle.
I dug my phone out of my bag and stared at it for a moment, then hit the speed-dial for my mom. It rang for a few seconds before she picked up, her voice full of the same kind of distracted impatience she always had when answering my calls.
“What is it, Becca?” she said, the sharpness in her voice making my shoulders slump. “I’m in the middle of making a casserole, and I can’t be on the phone long.”
I winced, rubbing my forehead as I stood by the elevator, not really sure why I felt so… hesitant. “Uh, nothing urgent, Mom. Just wanted to check in.”
She sighed heavily. “Well, if you wanted to talk about grandkids, now’s not a good time. I told you, I’m getting older, and I can’t keep waiting around forever. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, biting the inside of my cheek.Great. Here we go.
I’d expected it, of course. The same conversation. The same criticism. I braced myself, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
“No, Mom. I’m not… I’m not calling about that.” My voice was quieter now, feeling smaller somehow. “I just… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot, and I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. My vacation is almost over, and I’m going back to the grind. And I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to talk.”
“Oh, sure,” she said dismissively. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me that you’re thinking about some guy? Again?”
I felt my chest tighten. "Well... yeah, kind of. It's just... complicated, Mom. It's not like the last time. This time, it’s different."
Her silence stretched for a moment, and I couldn’t help but think of how the last time had turned out—when things went south with my ex-husband, and I ended up with more lessons than I’d ever wanted. That heartbreak still stung, even after all this time. But this felt… different. I just hoped it was.
Then came the familiar sigh, loud enough that I could almost picture her shaking her head. "Of course it’s different. You’ve always had a way of overthinking things. You’re not getting any younger, you know."
There it was. The "you're not getting any younger" line, the one she liked to throw out whenever I wasn’t meeting some kind of imaginary timeline she had for my life. I swallowed hard, trying not to let her words get under my skin.
“Yeah, I know,” I muttered, back in my hotel room now, staring out the window at the sheets of rain. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing, Mom. This guy, Luca—he’s younger than me, and I don’t know if it’s even worth trying. I’m not sure I have it in me to deal with someone else’s baggage or to be hurt again.”
I could feel my throat tightening as I spoke, but I kept going. “I’m almost forty, and I’ve got this career. I’ve worked so hard, and everything has been so... predictable. But then I met him, and everything feelsoffin a way that’s scary. And not in a good way. I don’t know if I can take that kind of risk anymore, Mom.”
She sighed again, louder this time, and I could hear the clinking of pots in the background. “Rebecca, you’ve had your heart broken before. You think I don’t know what that’s like? You think I’m sitting here waiting for some man to come along and fix everything? I’ve been there, honey. I’ve done the whole dating thing after a divorce, and let me tell you, it’s not worth it. Men your ageare all the same. They’re looking for something young, fresh, and easy. You’re not that anymore.”
I winced at her words, feeling the sting even though I knew it was coming. “I’m not asking for some fairy tale, Mom. I’m just trying to figure out if I can make it work with someone who’s… younger. Who doesn’t have the same life I do.”
I could feel her shrug through the phone. “Well, like I said, you’re not getting any younger. At your age, if you don’t already have your life figured out, you’re behind. And I think it’s time you accept that.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d been feeling so lost, so unsure of myself, and hearing her tell me, once again, that I was running out of time—it made everything feel so much worse. I could almost feel the weight of the years pressing down on me. I didn’t want to feel like I was failing, but somehow, with every word she spoke, it seemed like I was.
I felt a hot tear slip down my cheek and quickly wiped it away. “Thanks, Mom,” I said, my voice shaky. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I didn’t wait for her response before hanging up, feeling like the entire conversation had been a punch to the gut. The rain outside was coming down harder now, matching the heaviness in my chest. I leaned against the window, staring out at the gloomy scene. I wasn’t sure if I was more disappointed in my mom’s lack of support, or in myself for actually hoping she’d have some words of wisdom.
Why did I think calling her would make me feel better? Why did I keep hoping she could fix things for me, like when I was a little girl?