Page 88 of Sneak Attack

“Hey, Mom.”

Marley twisted her head in my direction, lips parted. She muted her television show and closed her mouth while silence turned heavy on the phone line.

“I…well…I’ve hoped for so long you’d answer when I called, and now I don’t know what to say.” She laughed, and it was the laugh I remembered, kind and sweet but this time she was also crying.

I started too before I could stop myself. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Finally. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

I couldn’t lie. Wouldn’t. “Yours too.”

We cried, both of us, and of course it was Mom who gathered her nerves first. “How are you?”

I laughed. How was I?

Better than I’d been in years, but hearing her voice hurt, too. “I don’t know,” I admitted.

Marley pushed off her couch and walked over to pat my knee. “I’m going to leave you some privacy,” she whispered, and before she turned to leave, brushed her thumb against my cheek, wiping away tears.

“How’s Dad?” I asked instead of answering.

For five years, I’d ignored their calls. Five years since I’d had any true contact with my mom, and for some reason, now, I couldn’t imagine why. Why I let it go so long and get so bad.

My mom laughed again, that crying, desperate kind of laugh when you’re trying to stop yourself. “He’s good, currently out back building a chicken coop.”

“A what?”

My mom said, “Yeah, I guess the country and Missouri is finally getting to us.” She talked then about his job at the university in Cape Girardeau. They lived twenty minutes outside of the town on acres of land and he was now the dean of the business school there. No longer doing much teaching, but in charge of the entire business school. I tried to reconcile the dean of a university building a chicken coop and for the life of me, couldn’t.

My mom went on to talk about how she’d started gardening. She worked on some fundraising for the school too, but mostly, they were doing what they always had. Dad worked, Mom supported him, and in their free time, Dad followed along with whatever ridiculous new hobby mom started—which in this case, was having a self-sustaining farm.

From the woman who’d never been able to keep a simple houseplant alive.

My cheeks ached while she talked, and I cried more than once hearing the sound of her voice, until it all became too much, and all the emotions I’d bottled up for so many years exploded like a shaken soda can.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried. “So sorry I haven’t answered you or called or…I’m so sorry for everything.”

“Oh darling.” My mom’s words were a hug, soothing me in ways I’d forgotten I needed, in ways I’d blocked myself from allowing. “It’s okay.You’reokay, and we love you. We always have and we just want you to be happy.”

“I think,” I sniffed through a sob. “I think I’m maybe finally starting to get there.”

“That’s good, Eden. I’m so proud of you.” She choked down another sob and I could feel the smile in her voice. Her eyes would probably have more fine lines than I remembered, but her smile would be just as happy. Equally sweet.

“Tell me how Marley’s doing,” she finally said, and so I did. I told her about the nurse coming, about how she’s been stumbling more and I told her about our walks, how I’d catch her repeating herself in the span of a few minutes, and through it all, Mom listened and while the phone was quiet on her end, I had no doubt she would remember every word I spoke.

My phone beeped and I glanced at the screen.

Cole’s name flashed and I put the phone back to my ear.

I didn’t want to say goodbye to her, but I only had a few minutes to talk to Cole, too.

“Hey, um, Mom?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

“I’m getting another call. Do you think I could call you later? Maybe FaceTime you and Dad?”

A quick gasp of surprise, followed by, “We’d love that.”

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