Page 32 of To Love or to Lose
“Yeah, a growing boy who acts as if his mother doesn’t feed him,”I joke.
“Speaking of my mother,” Logan says. “She told me to have all of you over to the house tonight.”
“Tonight?” Eloise asks. “Why would she want us all to come over on a random Tuesday night?”
“Don’t question her motives,”he replies while Winnie, Eloise and I look back and forth between each other.
The three of us are equally confused, but who are we to say no to Wren Callaghan?
“I guess we’ll be there then,”I say.
If my parents ever want to talk, it’s usually in the middle of the school day, right around their dinnertime.
Mum calls more than Dad, and that’s because Dad hasn’t called at all. This morning, she texted me letting me know she would be calling during my lunch.
So, while my friends are in the cafeteria, I have occupied an empty classroom, waiting for my mother to call.
Bianca Beaumont has always been young at heart, which led her to move to Italy almost directly after her and my father’s divorce.I love my mother, I truly do, but not as a parental figure. I love how fun and free-spirited she is, but not how it deters her from being wise enough to properly raise a child.
Living in Italy has changed her, condensing the mother I once knew into a woman who is living in a body too old for her.Bianca Beaumont is not for the faint of heart, but neither am I.
“Hi, Mum,”I answer once my phone rings.
“Jameson, how are you?” Mum asks. “I’ve been having so much fun that I haven’t even been looking at my phone!”What she’s really saying is:“I’ve been having so much fun jumping off cliffs and swimming with sharks that I’ve basically forgotten about my only child.”
“I’m glad, Mum.” I lean back in the rolling desk chair I’m sitting in. “Really glad.”
“How’s school? Every time I call, you barely tell me anything.”
“It’s fine, my classes are grand.” I keep it simple, knowing if I dig too deep, Mum will too.
“Are you having fun? Be honest.”
“Yes, I am.” She asks the same questions every time she calls, and gets the same answers. “Logan is good. I’m getting along great with the Callaghans, and no, I don’t need you to convince Dad to let me come home.” I answer the rest of the questions I know are coming.
“Okay, okay,” she laughs. “Have you heard anything about being Valedictorian?”
This is a question she hasn’t asked before, and I’m assuming it’s because at my old school in London, I was top of my class.
“I’m not sure yet,” I say. “There’s a girl in my class who has similar stats, so we’re not sure if one of us will win, or if it will be a draw.”
“Wow, I had no idea other kids worked themselves to the bone as much as you have.” She has no idea what she’s talking about.
Even if I worked myself to the bone, which I don’t, my mother wouldn’t have a clue.
“Yeah, we’re more than likely both going to be Valedictorian.”
This is how conversations with my mum always go. She asks me questions, I dutifully answer, and then we go on with our days.
There’s a sudden rustling through the phone, and a person yelling from afar. “Jameson, I have to go, we’re leaving for the beach,” Mum says.
“Okay.”Finally.“Have fun. I’ll talk to you soon, Mum.”She hangs up abruptly.
The classroom that was once merely quiet and empty, now feels profoundly silent, a stark contrast to the lively background noises that accompanied her call.
Alone again, I stare at the phone, the weight of our stilted conversation settling heavily in the empty room.
How lovely.
