Page 89 of Reconciling With the Rival

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Two Different Versions Of The Same Story

The fact that Ican work from my bed in my pajamas is the best thing ever.

Today, I’m working from home because since Leo and I had sex in the office, I’ve been avoiding it. I talked to Imogen, and she was okay with it since I told her I was feeling a bit sick.

I’m not sick, just terrified.

Terrified of my own feelings brewing inside of my brain, heart, and vagina. Feelings that involve Leo Zimmerman. I thought I could have casual and meaningless sex with him, but for some reason, my heart has decided against that.

It’s pissing me off.

Not only that, but I have to pick Lizzie up today because my dad is staying late at work. He called me yesterday and asked if I could take her to dance, and of course, I agreed. Not only am I always ready to help my family out, but since my sister and Ihave been split about our situation, I feel like I haven't seen her enough lately.

I thought our talk fixed it, but I’m not sure it did. I’m scared our mother is filling her head with empty promises and vacations that will never happen.

I shake the thought out of my head and get back to work. Today, I’m splitting my time at home on the work for a client at Loft Media and social media posts for an author's new release announcement. I wish I could do author services full time, but that’s not in the cards for me at the moment.

About half an hour later, my phone rings—an unknown number. I answer it in case it’s a client.

It’s not.

“Ella,” is all the person on the other line says.

I take a deep breath before I answer. “Mom.”

“It’s nice to hear your voice.”

“It’s nice to hear what you sound like. I seemed to have forgotten after all these years,” I snap. Normally, I’d regret my outburst, but not to her. Not after all these years of being a ghost.

“I guess I deserved that,” she sighs across the line.

“Is there something you need?” I’m not in the mood for small talk.

“I’ll be picking up Lizzie today. I wanted to let you know so you don’t waste your time coming out here. I know it’s a bit of a drive.”

I know she thinks she means well, but her passive aggressive tone pisses me off. “It’s never a waste of time when I get to my sister, though that’s something you’ve never understood.”

“Ella, I understand your frustration with me, but your refusal to give me a chance is ridiculous. I’ve seen Lizzie multiple times, and she’s giving me another chance. Why can’t you?”

I move the phone from my face, pissed off she has the fucking audacity to say that to me—to one of the two daughters she leftbehind all those years ago. “Because I know what it’s like to watch you leave.”

“I made a mistake, Ella. I’m back to correct it. Why can’t you let me prove myself to you? Why can’t you give me another chance?”

I sit up, her tone making my body enter fight or flight mode. “I’m fresh out of those. The last one expired when you left and didn't bother to contact us until we no longer needed you. It’s not fair to me, Lizzie, or Dad.”

“Now, honey—”

“You can’t call me that. You don’t deserve to call me that. In case you forgot,you’rethe one who left us, and I was the daughter who had to pick up all the pieces. You’re not my mother, not in the ways that matter. You’re a stranger who happened to give birth to me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It is, though. I know you think I’m insane for holding this grudge against you, but you weren't fucking there when I was growing up. When Lizzie cried all through the night after she got her heart broken for the first time and wanted her mom, you weren't there. I was. When Dad lost one of his jobs, I stepped up so we could keep the house. Where were you? Where were you when I came out and realized I like girls too? Where were you when I had my first heartbreak? Or when I graduated from college? Where were you when I needed my mom? I have no idea, because you fucking left.” I take a deep breath. “Have fun with Lizzie, but if you break her heart, I have no room in mine left for you.”

I hang up on her because I can’t keep listening to her spew lies and bullshit into my ear for another second.

When I was younger, I used to think about what would happen if my mother had come back. I used to think up fake conversations and arguments of things I would say to her.Sometimes, I’d yell at her. Other times, I would cry and explain how she hurt me.

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