Page 5 of Trying Sophie

“Sophie,” she sighed exasperatedly. “You know I can’t take the boys out of school right now.”

“No one said you had to take the boys out. They have a father. Hell, they have a live-in nanny. There’s no reason you can’t take a week off to visit grandpa at home and make sure everything’s okay. I’m sure both he and grandma would love to see you.”

“It’s not that simple, Sophie. I have a life here. Responsibilities. I can’t just drop everything and everyone to go running off across the globe whenever I want. That’s not how I live my life,” she huffed condescendingly.

“Do you even hear yourself? Your father had a heart attack! I don’t think anyone in their right mind would begrudge you spending time with him, and if they did, are they really the type of people you want in your life anyway?”

She was being completely, utterly unreasonable. I knew she had weird hang-ups about Ireland but this was beyond the pale.

On the other end of the line my mom took a deep breath. I hoped she was about to say something that would make me feel differently about her, something that would show she cared about someone other than herself.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you. Will you go or not? They’re expecting an answer tonight.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me? What do you mean they’re expecting an answer tonight?” I hollered, then immediately quieted when I realized what was happening. “You set this up, didn’t you? You already told them I was coming.”

“Can you go or not?” There was a hard edge to her voice.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the sofa as internally I counted to ten. Ten seconds to calm down and not let my cold, selfish, manipulating mom get the better of me. Ten seconds to determine I couldn’t have this conversation with her right now.

It might be a similar refrain on a common enough theme, but this time she’d gone too far.

I took a deep, calming breath and exhaled on a sigh. “I’ll call you later and let you know my decision.”

I hit the red button that ended our call and dropped the phone face down on the cushion next to me.

I had responsibilities too, but of course she wouldn’t bother to ask what my schedule looked like. That I might have people relying on me, that I had deadlines to hit, would never have occurred to her. I’d graduated from college with a double major in Business and Journalism and, unlike many of my schoolmates, had actually put both degrees to use, effectively running my own mini travel empire before I was thirty. And yet she still acted like my job was some silly little hobby.

I groaned and pulled the bobby pins out of my hair, letting the chignon I’d donned for my date tumble down around my shoulders. Running my hands through my mane, I massaged my scalp, hoping the ugly conversation I’d just ended wouldn’t trigger a migraine.

Shit.

I might not want to rush off to Ireland but this was my grandpa we were talking about. He’d had a heart attack for Christ’s sake! He could be dead and instead of planning a prolonged visit I could be packing for his funeral. When I thought about it that way, I really had no choice at all.

There would be other writing assignments, more jobs in my future, but time with my grandparents was a precious commodity that I didn’t know how much more I’d have. When forced to choose between an amazing trip and a few thousand dollars in my bank account or spending time with my aging grandparents, there was really only one thing I could do.

I picked up my phone and mentally calculated the time difference between Edinburgh and New York City, happy to see there were still two hours left in the workday there. I scrolled through my contacts and hit the call button. The phone rang four times when a male voice answered.

“Mark Tomlinson here.”

“Hi Mark, this is Sophie Newport. Sorry to do this to you on such late notice, but I’ve got a bit of an emergency situation I’m dealing with and I’m going to have to bow out of writing those holiday travel stories for you.”

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