“Wait like ten minutes, and we can walk to Warm’n’Cool for those new raspberry mojitos you seem to love. I need to dry Pickles and clean his ears before spoiling him with treats. My little angel was a perfect kitty today.” My roommate says, bringing his pet closer to his broad chest.
Hugging him and the cat, both at once, I tell that I won’t wait any longer than ten minutes. Pickles licks my jaw as I don’t let go of them right away. That makes me laugh and feel lighter instantly.
That happy feeling lasts until the following morning when it once again feels like Pickles took a piss in my mouth. It is unfair that some of my friends,looking at you, Timmy, can pass out and wake up all cheery the following day. Whenever I drink more than a few drinks, it’s like World War III inside my head the next day.
Reaching for my painkillers on my nightstand, I take in my surroundings. Why am I in Timmy’s room? Looking down, I see that I’m also wearing one of his shirts. Trying to think back to last night, I remember only bits and pieces. Soph drank with us after her shift ended. There were tequila shots and dancing on the bar.
Yes, on it, not next to it. Like in Coyote Ugly.
It seems like I had a fun time. But it doesn’t explain why I’m not in my bed.
Walking up to my room, I find a sleeping Soph next to a random guy in my bed. It isn’t the first time she ended up sleeping here with someone since she can’t go home to her parents' house with a one-night stand. Quietly taking the painkiller bottle and my phone charger, I return downstairs.
Seeing my phone light up after connecting it to the charger, I text Helen.
Rose:Hey auntie Helen, I’ve been thinking about everything that’s happened after my last visit. There’s something I feel like doing to have a break from everything. But first, I’d like to talk with you and dad. Let me know when you’re free.
Helen:Let’s FaceTime chat this evening.
Rose:Okay then. Talk to you later.
Helen:Later, sweetheart.
* * *
After my lengthy, emotional chat with Helen and dad later that evening, I’m ready to do what I have planned to do for a long time. This moment has been in the works for years. But I just haven’t had the guts to do so before. Due to the time difference, I still have to wait untilshewakes up.
As I toss and turn in bed, I wonder how she’ll react when I call her. It has been way too long. I know she has tried to contact me, but I’ve ignored it.
Before Iosing my courage, I call the number I never thought I would. After six rings, my call goes to a voicemail.Typical.The one time I call her, she doesn’t answer. But I guess that’s karma for ignoring her calls for years.
Feeling mixed emotions inside me, I stumble out of the bedroom and run down the stairs to our front door. I feel my lungs filling with fresh air when I open the door. Sitting on the steps to our brownstone, I look down at my phone. Maybe I should call again. Why does it have to be this hard?
After a moment, the phone starts ringing in my hand. I see the number I called only a minute ago, and my body starts to sweat like I just ran a 10-mile race. My hand holding the phone feels clammy. Before answering, I get up and begin to pace back and forth on the sidewalk in front of our house.
For the love of Christmas cookies, Rose, pick up the freaking phone.
Answering the call, I hear a commotion in the background—sounds like children playing in the pool if giggling and splashing water are any indicators.
“Hello, it’s Rose.”
I freeze in my tracks after hearing her voice. It’s just like I remembered, which makes me want to cry. But I need to get something out before that.
“Hey, mom. It’s Margaret.” With my voice cracking and tears filling my eyes, I tell her, “I need you, mama.”
There’s crying and conversation in Greek on the other end of the line. After a while, I hear my mom blowing her nose and answering me. “Oh, my sunshine, I’m here. Whatever you need.”
Sunshine.
That’s what she used to call me when I was little. It has been such a long time since I last heard it coming from her lips. And hearing that nickname right now makes me feel like I did the right thing.
24
MAGGIE’S DIARY
FIVE WEEKS AFTER THE FIRE
Number of times I have dreamed of going home:TOO FREAKING MANY
