Page 15 of Invisible Scars
I double-tap the earpiece safely tucked in and say in a firm voice, “This is Effie Teitelbaum.”
A small part of me fantasizes that it’s my brother so that I can give him a piece of my mind, but mostly I hope it’s an innocuous caller.
“Fifi? Is that really you?” My chest tightens at the gasping voice filled with tears.
“I hate when you call me that,” I whisper. “I’m not a lapdog.”
There’s silence from the other end of the line. In all fairness, it’s the first time my mother’s heard my genuine feelings about her lifelong pet name.
There’s a sharp inhale, almost as if she’s drawing strength. “I’ve missed you so much, Effie.”
“What do you want, mother?” I ask firmly, having found my voice again. “If it’s about Abe, I’m not interested.”
“He asked me to try to convince you, but I didn’t call forhim,” she says. The lilt of guilt in her voice muffles the sound of reason that’s reminding me to never take her words at face value. “I was furious when you left, but after the initial anger subsided, I realized I was never mad at you.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, Fi—” she releases a frustrated huff. “What I’m saying,Effie, is that I never should have pushed you to take Lorenzo Ricci’s deal against your will.”
Tears spring to my eyes. It isn’t every day that Deborah Teitelbaum admits to her own wrongdoings. In fact, in the twenty-four years I lived with her before moving to Ohio, I’ve never heard her apologize for anything.
“It’s a bit late for that.” I take Jar Jar in my hands and slump against the headrest, letting my weight tilt the chair into a small recline. “You’ve had an entire year to apologize, but you only chose to do so after Abe contacts me to clean up his messes again? I’m not buying it.”
“I didn’t have your new number until he gave it to me.”
“You could have called the office.”
“I was trying to respect your choices, give you space.” There’s a tremble in my mother’s voice, the authenticity of it too convincing to ignore. “We’d never been apart before. I’d never had to face the prospect of losing you forever. I didn’t know what the right thing to do was.” There’s a stifled sniffle and a pause. “I didn’t want to risk pushing you even further away.”
Lies. She’s lying. Don’t buy it.
“Look, I understand,” my mother says softly. “One phone call out of the blue doesn’t erase a lifetime of resentment. All I’m asking is for a chance to be part of your life.”
“And how do you suppose that’ll work?” I ask dryly, knowing the next sentence out of her mouth will be to ask me to come to New York.
“For starters, you could book us a table at the best sushi restaurant in Columbus two weeks from today.”
A flutter of anticipation whisks through my stomach.
“Okay,” I say. “I can do that.”
“Perfect. See you soon, Fifi!” She hangs up before I can correct her or say goodbye.
Such a minuscule effort and hope floods me against all reason. I’m six again, standing next to my mother at one of the many galas and parties she used to drag me to, watching the satisfaction and pride in her eyes whenever someone coos over how pretty and well-behaved I am. It was the only positive attention I ever got from her, and only years later, I understood her pride wasn’t in me as a person but at how successful her prop of choice was.
Could my leaving have changed her this much?Improbable but not impossible.
I bite my lip, not sure what to believe anymore. But if my mother is willing to schlep all the way to Ohio, I owe it to myself to hear her out.
5
JONAH
I digmy heels into the laminate wood flooring, push, and roll away from my desk with a loud groan. Nothing is going right today, probably because of my increasingly obsessive preoccupation with Effie’s safety.
I throw myself back in my chair.Fuck it.It’s Friday. I’m done.
After triple checking that I properly closed up everything for the weekend, I decide to burn some time and frustration in the pool. The water helps me focus. The chill, the silence, the solitude. It’s been my quiet place since I can remember.
