Page 41 of Till The Cows Come Home
“Pitiful.” I chuckled.
I pressed the blinking answering machine, allowing my voicemails to broadcast as I rifled through the closet where I stashed their food, and as I opened the dishwasher to retrieve their bowls, I paused, surprised by the sound of my mother’s voice echoing through my apartment.
“Hi Sagey. I just wanted to call and let you know what a good time we had last night. Sorry dad and I passed out, it was just so comforting to have you in the house again. And Miles? My god, baby. I’m sorry I doubted your intentions. I can see exactly why you’re drawn to him. Wearing your father’s pants, I could barely resist myself.”
I cackled as my father’s voice rang through, playfully harassing my mother about her comment, which was promptly shushed before my mother continued.
“Anyway darling, I hope to see you again this Wednesday…and I just wanted to let you know how proud of you we are. Love you, bye bye now.”
The machine clicked, moving on to my next message, which was just an appointment reminder that fell to deaf ears as I replayed my mother’s message over in my head. There were a few things my mother seldom did, one was apologize, and the other was dole out praise. I could count on one hand the amount of times she had done either, and I couldn’t help but choke up as she managed to encompass both in one short message. Forgiving my parents was a battle, and at one point I vowed I would never, but seeing them again made me realize how much I missed them.
As I filled the bowls, I absently wondered what Miles was doing. I hadn’t heard from him today, and now that Blossom graduated to bucket feeds, I didn’t have any real reason to go over in the mornings anymore. But my thoughts were paused once again as I opened the sliding door to my balcony, ambushed by the freeloaders on my porch.
“You guys know you don’t belong to me, right? I could block my fire escape and you’d be forced to live life on your own.”
Ignoring me, they began chowing down on my offering, clearly confident that I’d never consider doing such a thing, and they’d be right. So I continued on with the rest of my missed routine, watering my plants and tidying things before my growling stomach forced me to start dinner. I’d lived independently of a man my entire life. Cooking for one had become a skill, but for some reason instead of feeling my normal empowerment, I just felt lonely.
I’d always been a firm believer that you should be able to exist before you coexist, but what I began to realize was that I'd spent the last few years of my life avoiding connection to prove a point. I knew I could live alone. I knew I could run a home by myself, hell I could run a farm by myself. But the more time I spent outside of this mindset, the more I began to realize that maybe I didn’t want to.
As I laid the chicken on the grill, I made a silent vow that I would no longer refuse myself the joy of companionship. Was I going to talk to Miles about the potential of marriage? No. But I felt relief in giving myself the go ahead to explore whatever connection we had without the implications that it made me a lesser woman.
I flipped through the TV after dinner, toying with the idea of calling Miles just to chat, but before I needed to, a text came through.
Hi.
Hi.
I saw the bubbles appear on the bottom of our chat, just to disappear, and appear again as if he too couldn’t decidewhat to say. Before long, my phone rang, and I chuckled as the picture of him and Blossom popped up. I couldn’t help but snap a picture of them at Blossom’s graduation party, but when I looked back at the photo, I snorted coffee through my nose, immediately setting it as his contact photo. Blossom had gotten ahold of her makeshift tassel, chomping away, which in turn had Miles laughing. The perfect toothy mid-laugh smile caught on camera. I took a moment, appreciating the adorable snapshot, before clicking to answer the call.
“Hello.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m an awful texter. My hands are dirty. I’m tired. The screen hurts my eyes. I don’t care if you think those things make me a grandpa, but I’m owning it. And damn, it's nice to hear your voice.”
I chuckled. “Long day?”
“Very. It rained most of the day, which means everything was coated in shit. My socks were wet half the day, which means I’m grouchy. I meant to text you sooner, but every time I tried to use my phone the rain made it so I couldn’t hit the right buttons…I miss landlines.”
“I have a home phone.” I giggled. “I like the thrill of answering without knowing who’s on the other line.”
“You’re a dream,” he mumbled.
I didn’t answer, instead allowing the familiar comfort to fill the silence.
“Miles?”
“Yeah, pretty girl?”
“Tell me something.”
He hummed in response, as if he was thinking about what to say.
“What do you wanna know?”
I paused, settling on something basic.
“What’s your family like?”
“Oh.” He sighed, and the long pause that followed made me nervous. Did he have a secret wife? Murderers as parents? But after a few moments, his voice cracked through my intrusive thoughts.
