Page 94 of Faux Real
“He is?” I ask, controlling my facial expressions to the best of my ability despite the fact a burst of pride is dancing through my veins. “You umm... can tell? Really?”
“The factyoucan’t see it is truly mind-boggling,” Max states, walking toward me. “He likes you, Ken, so just go to the show and have a good time, okay?” She hands me a leather jacket. “Here, I called you an Uber, it should be here in three minutes. Let’s go.”
“But—”
“No buts!” Max exclaims, pushing me out of her bedroom toward the staircase. “You’re going.”
“Okay, okay, sheesh—” I pat my pockets. “Wait, my phone, I left it on your—”
“I’ll get it! You go!” Max spins around, running back to her room as I slowly make my way down the stairs.
Usually, I can’t wait until exams are finished. I always look forward to a few weeks of freedom, of days where I can relax without a cloud hovering over my head. But this semester, I wanted exams to last forever. Because now, there are no distractions. Nothing I can do or say to Oliver to delay this impending conversation. This is it. It’s going to happen. And I’m scared. I’m terrified of showing him my hand. Of telling him how I feel. Telling him what I want. What I need. What I desire.
Him.
I don’t know when he went from being an annoyance to being someone I can’t stop thinking about, but it happened. And if Maxine is as perceptive as she thinks she is, Oliver is in the same boat.
Oh, God.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans as I inhale a long breath, hoping the anxiety fluttering inside my heart will die down.
“Ken...” Max’s soft voice floats into my ears and I look up to the top of the staircase.
“What?” I ask, scanning her stunned face, my gaze flitting down to my phone in her hand. “What is it?”
“I umm—” she stammers, taking slow steps down toward me. “I answered your phone because I thought it was that telemarketer again. I was going to yell at them for you but—”
“But what?” I frown. “What is it?”
“It wasn’t a telemarketer,” she says, chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s umm... It’s your mom, Ken.”
“What?” I blink, gripping the railing, my knees weak as my heart rate accelerates. “What did you just say?”
“It’s your mom, Kenny.” Max passes me my phone, a glow of dimmed excitement in her eyes. “It’s Sarah.”
“I—”
Mom.
I stare at the phone,unknown numberwritten on the caller ID. It’s her. It’s mom. My mom. The woman who raised me. Who played with me. Who cried with me. Who loved me. Who...who left me. She left me. She left. Sheleft.
“Kenny,” Max whispers, nudging the cell phone into my hand. “Talk to her.”
“I don’t know what to say to her,” I breathe, wiping a tear that’s suddenly sprung from the corner of my eye. “What do I say?”
Max shrugs. “If you don’t know what to say, maybe just listen?”
“Okay,” I say, taking the phone with trembling hands. I glance up at Max who nods and places a reassuring hand on my forearm. “Okay.”
“I’ll be in the den,” Max whispers and heads downstairs.
With a shaky breath, I unclick the mute button and sink down on the carpeted stairs. “Hel—” I clear my throat, swallowing away the ball of nervousness. “Hello?”
“Hi, honey,” my mother’s delicate voice pierces my heart, and I start sobbing. And I can’t stop. I can’t stop the buckets of tears escaping my eyes. It’s impossible. Her voice is like a blanket. A soft, warm blanket. And I’ve been cold for so long. I’ve been so cold without her. “Oh, Kennedy, I am so sorry, baby. I am so sorry.”
“Mom,” I wail. “Where are you? Why— Why did you leave me? Why did you—”
“Shh,” Mom hushes, and I relax. It’s instant. Like a drug. “Breathe, honey, breathe.” I take a few deep breaths and try to pull myself together. “That’s good, Kennedy, just keep breathing.”
