Page 47 of Catfish

Chase: I’m sure you did.

Me: So, sending you a nude would be a really bad idea, huh?

Chase: Super unamused right now.

Me: And super turned on.

Chase: I plead the fifth.

“Reagan Mae, are you listening to me?”

I jerk my focus from my phone to find Mama with her hand propped on her jutted hip.

I give her a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Can’t it wait while you visit your mother for the first time in ninety-three days?” She heightens a brow, unamused at how my cell phone is always attached to my ass.

I tuck my phone into my lap and cover it with my hands. “Yes.”

Mama nods and pours some of the creamer into our mugs. “I bought the French Vanilla that you like.”

"Thanks, Mama."

I hate French Vanilla. Loathe it now because Grant would always bring me coffee when I was pissed at him, and it's lost its appeal.

She hands me over the steaming cup, the sweet flavor wafting in my nose.

Mama turns her back on me, giving me a quick opportunity to shoot back some words to Chase.

Me: You’ll be doing more than that.

"I was thinking we'd go have lunch at Debbie's tomorrow," Mama announces, getting me to hide my phone back in its previous spot. She isn't above taking it away from me like an unattuned child.

“That’d be great.” Mama turns around with her cup and sits diagonally from me with a grin.

"Tell me everything that's been happening in Bridgeport." I almost scoff, she doesn't need to know the bullshit I plan or people I'm around. That at every event, I make sure that Grant isn't on the guestlist even though I know one day I'll run into him.

"Things are great, the business is thriving, and we're just keeping busy."

"Are you happy, though?" It's an open-ended question.

Am I?

I'm happy about a lot of things, but I'm haunted by more. My decisions, the way my life turned out, the peak of loneliness that I'm starting to feel but want to change so badly.

"I'm happy," I convey with a grin. "Sadie is extremely helpful, and we're just...killing it."

Mama smiles. “I’m so pleased to hear you say that. I’ve been so worried that you’ve been alone and miserable.”

I choke on my coffee. “God, Ma.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “What makes you think that?” My phone buzzes against my thighs. “Do I sound that pitiful on the phone?”

She chuckles, and it fills my heart that after everything, she can still laugh. That she has always remained the same no matter what hardships she faced in her life raising us as a single mom.

"No, not at all." A loud screeching sound resonates in her laundry room, signaling that the dryer has stopped. Mama stands, pushing back her chair. "Drink up your coffee, and we'll go have an early dinner."

“I thought you were making me something.”

She shrugs. “Changed my mind.”

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