Page 44 of Silver Linings
“Yeah?” My voice comes out low and hollow.
How easy it is to revert to the eight-year-old version of me when she’s around. For feelings of intense sadness at having lost not one parent, but two, to drag me down. Losing my father was too much forherto deal with while having a kid. Her solution: ship me off to grandma’s house forever.
Memories resurface of me standing outside The Langham, otter stuffy dangling from one hand while I waved goodbye, thinking she would be back for me soon. But soon turned into a week, that turned into a month, and that turned into forever.
“You never got back to me after our last talk,” she admonishes.
“I didn’t realize we were on a call back basis. I must have missed all of yours growing up.” It’s impossible to keep the bitterness out of my tone.
“Don’t be like that. I just want to see my daughter when I’m in town in a few weeks.” Always on her schedule, only whenshewants or needs it.
“Now’s not a good time. Maybe next time you’re visiting.” Also not likely, but anything to end this phone call and the chill that’s crept over my body like a fog.
“Silly, please, we should really talk?—”
“Sorry—what–I…hear–phone’s cutt—” I wince. Hanging up the phone was definitely not the mature approach, but panic started to sink its claws in.
A sticky feeling coats my skin whenever I’m confronted by the hurt my mother’s actions caused. I didn’t date, kept nearly everyone at a distance, never chose a career path because commitments didn’t mean anything in my world. Nothing was permanent, and anyone could change their mind in an instant. Even a mother could leave her daughter.
I frantically grab a sticky note and write a new task to get done: change the shop phone number.
Maybe I’m lucky to get this second call, to get this reminder of why I don’t like committing to anything or anyone. It’s too hard, and people always end up hurt in the end. It’s easy to get swept up in a moment and let it nearly knock down your carefully constructed walls.
I have to end this.
Whatever is going on with Hendrix, I have to end it now, or I’m going to find myself swimming through capsizing waters I vowed to myself long ago I would never drown in.
I can’t be like my mom. I won’t.
I won’t let my world get so wrapped up in a person that I can’t function without them. It’s easier to stay detached in the long run. If I don’t let myself want it to begin with, I can’t be disappointed when it doesn’t pan out the way I’d hoped.
And I could see myself getting attached to Hendrix.
I allow myself a few moments of longing, one moment to reminisce on the heat of last night’s kiss before I let it go.
I’m going to end it.I am.
I have to.
“Are you okay?” Holly knocks me out of my tortured reverie.
Snapping back to reality, I straighten from the counter—the one I was just laying on horizontally, as if I could infuse myself into the wood grains and stay in the memory of kissing Hendrix just a little longer.
“Yeah, why?” I infuse my voice with levity so she doesn’t suspect something’s wrong.
“It’s just that you were staring off into the distance, and it looked like you were trying to hump the counter.”
“What goes on between me and the cash wrap is no one’s business but ours.”
“How was last night?” Holly’s tone is just a little too casual to not be suspicious.
“It was fine.” Cool as a cucumber.
“Mmmm.” I know she’s not buying it. “The store already looks better. I like the color you chose.” She points to the wall behind me. “It livens up the place, but it’s not so bright that it distracts from everything else going on.”
Grabbing my iced coffee from the counter, I step out and walk the floor to where she stands, surveying the work we got done the previous night.
“I’m really happy with it too. We’re going to fix and paint the shelves white to offset the flooring, and I’ll grab some colorful rugs to put under the tables.”
