Lonely Hearts & Broken Parts (LBSC #1.2) | Complete

Chapter 6

A couple of hours after the dance class, I was sitting at my desk in front of my typewriter. I was still thinking about what I could have done differently to give the evening a better outcome.

My phone buzzed. I looked at the screen and grimaced. It was my mother.

I loved my mom to death, but I knew she was calling with the pretense of checking in so she could grill me about my love life. But if I didn't answer now, she'd bring it up at the next family board game night, and I didn't want my three sisters jumping in and giving their unsolicited opinions.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi Sweetie. How are you? I haven't heard from you in a few days."

Ever since my youngest sister Claire had left the nest and gone away to college, Mom had insisted on calling the four of us each day. I knew without my Dad and anyone in the house she was lonely, so I tried to be available, but it was a fine balance. Especially when she tried to bring up a friend's recently single daughter in every conversation.

"I'm good," I said, reaching over to poke my Poe bobblehead. "Just been to work and the usual."

"How's your writing going?" Mom asked like she did every time we spoke.

I sighed. "It's not. But I really haven't had much time to write lately. I signed up for this app that helps me meet people."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. I was pretty sure it was of the shocked variety. Of her four children, I'd always been the homebody, content to hole up in my room with a book or writing in my journal while Stephanie went to cheerleading practice, Erica snuck out of her window at night, and Claire pestered Mom to let her hang out with her friends at the mall.

"...So, did you meet anyone?" Mom asked after a lengthy pause.

I took of my glasses and carefully rubbed my eyes. "Nope."

Mom cleared her throat. "I know we've talked about this before, Malcolm, but I want you to know that if you ever wanted to tell me--"

"I'm not gay, Mom," I growled. "If I was gay, I would tell you. You know that."

She ignored me. "I would go to those pride marches and carry a sign that said 'I love my gay son' and everything."

"And I would appreciate that if I were gay, but I'm not," I said. I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on my bed, my eyes on the ceiling. "It's just that no one wants to date me. I'm too nice. It'd almost be easier if I was gay."

"Don't say that, Malcolm; there's no such thing as being too nice," Mom said firmly.

"So explain my situation to me, please. Because I've done everything you've taught me. I've genuinely listened to girls. I've stood up, held open doors, offered my jacket when they were cold. Been there when they've needed a friend. But who's there for me? No one."

My mom sighed on the other end of the phone. "Sweetie, I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I've also done a lot of things right. Seeing the man you've become makes me feel like I've left the world in a little better shape than I found it."

"That's all well and great--"

"So you listen to me, Malcolm Edgar Whittier, you are one hell of a catch, and any woman would be lucky to have you in her life. You might not have met the right woman--or man--yet, but there's a reason for that. There's something more you need to learn, or she's not in the right headspace to be open to you. It's all going to work out when it's supposed to. Cupid is just trying to find the perfect target. Do you want me to do a reading for you?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "No, Mom, I don't need you to read my cards to tell me when I'm going to meet someone. You know I don't believe in that stuff."

"But maybe--"

"At this point I don't even care if it's 'the right girl', Mom. I'll take any girl. I'm just tired of being lonely. I know that out of anyone you know what that feels like."

There was sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line and I wondered if I'd pushed too hard, but I hadn't said anything that wasn't true. When my father passed away it sent my mother spiraling into deep depression that didn't abate until she visited a psychiatrist. Then she found a love for all things New Age. Her drum circle and crystals couldn't fill the void left by my father's absence, but they provided her comfort.

"You're absolutely right. It's the worst pain I've ever felt, childbirth included," Mom said softly. "But Malcolm, think about this: Is being with the wrong one better than being alone? You don't have to answer, just think about it."

I opened my mouth to respond, but my mom barreled on. "So go out and meet girls. Go be young. Have fun. You have so much going for you, and so much life ahead of you."

I swallowed and pulled myself into a sitting position. Her words were easier said than done. Especially when "holidays" like Valentine's Day popped up and it felt like everyone in the world was coupled up, and I was on the couch watching reruns of Lost. "Thanks, Mom."

"I know you, Malcolm, and I know you'll think about what I've said but still remain preoccupied with finding a relationship. Just know that you'll find who is meant for you when you surrender yourself to the Universe."

That was my cue to the end the call. Whenever "the Universe" was brought into the conversation, it meant it was time for me to go before Mom suggested I come over for a chakra reading and cleansing ritual.

"I'll keep that in mind. Love you, Ma."

I clasped my hands behind my head and closed my eyes. Surrender? If only it was that easy.