September

6: A Mother Knows

That night my mom called, to say I was expecting it would've been a lie. I answered immediately wondering why she had decided to call me, but a part of me was happy she did.

"It's been so long since I've heard from you," she said in broken English.

"I'm sorry I haven't called you," I replied in French. She sighed I could imagine her head in her hands, while she had her head tilted to support the phone.

"It's not a problem, you're busy I'm sure. Have you much to do with your brother, he just moved near you."

"Yes, mama, he comes over a lot. And work is keeping me on my toes." I said, getting up to turn my record off. I forgot what I was going to do, so I grabbed the trail mix out of my kitchen instead.

"Good. I'm glad you two have each other. You should come and see me soon."

"I will, I promise," I said taking a seat on the couch. "I have the money I just need the time."

"How's the girl?" she asked. My heart dropped, not because she mentioned Tatiana, but because I couldn't believe I never told her what had happened.

I cleared my throat, "We aren't together anymore. She broke it off about a year and a half ago."

She was quiet for a moment. I continued digging through the trail mix for the m&ms. I popped another one in my mouth and waited for her reply. "You still there?"

She didn't reply. "Is everything okay?"

I heard her take a deep breath on the other side. "Everything is fine. I need to go. Talk to you soon. Love you. Goodbye."

"Love you too, mom. Bye." I whispered the last word.

I grabbed one more m&m before getting up to put the trail mix away. I wondered what made her react like that. I needed to make it out there, I needed to make sure everything was actually fine. The grandfather clock in my living room struck twelve. My eyes started to fall, but my mind was to full to even think about sleep. I wanted to talk with Dylan, but I knew if he wasn't sleeping, he was probably at a party or something and wouldn't want to be bothered.

I laid down on the couch and listened to the French album play in the background, and I fell asleep to Celine Dion singing.

***

I woke up as soon as the sun did. I looked around before remembering I was on the couch. I pulled the pillow over my head hoping to go back to sleep, but I wasn't that lucky. I sat up and waited a moment before getting up. I turned on my coffee maker while I made some food.

I sat at the table and just stared at the wall before looking at the plate of food in front of me. My thoughts were running a marathon inside my head, and I was struggling to keep up. I needed to make a plan to see her, but I wasn't sure how my dad would respond. I was sure he didn't hate me, at least not completely, but he wasn't my mom. She forgives and forgets, he's another story. I don't really regret moving to America, but I do miss some things about France.

I spent the most of my life here before we moved to France when I turned seventeen, my mom always spoke French to me, so I guess I've always spoken both. That's not why he'd be mad, it's that I moved without telling them.

I knew they wouldn't approve of what I wanted to do, and I'd been saving money since I was fourteen so when I hit nineteen I left. A few years later, Dylan followed in my steps, except he told them.

I sometimes wondered if things wouldn't have just been better if I stayed. Maybe I wouldn't follow my dreams, but sometimes I wonder if it'd been worth it.

And then I think of what I would've missed.