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I know my mom’s only ever had our best interests in mind. Some people might call me naive, but they don’t know the relationship we have. There’s none like it. She’s always been there for me, like I’ll always be there for her.
“Oh, I don’t think so, Lux,” she blurts. “It’s far too crowded here. We do much better in smaller towns.” She quickly changes the subject. “So, tell me, is that Macie girl still giving you a hard time?”
I chuckle because I know she heard us through the phone just minutes ago. “Oh, you know, she’s just acting like her typical self. Nothing I can’t handle, though.”
I hear the grin spread across her face as she says, “That’s my girl. Don’t allow anyone to treat you like they’re better than you.”
“You’ve taught me well, Mom.”
And she has. Ever since I was a little kid, Mom has always instilled the importance of having confidence in myself.
“The strength of a woman comes from her confidence within, and it’s my job as your mother to teach you and make you see the worth you have.”
“You’ve grown into quite the remarkable young woman. I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter.”
“Oh no. I know that voice, Mom.”
She sounds like she just got done watching one of those welcome home videos you see on social media when a parent deployed comes home and surprises their child at school or somewhere public and unsuspecting. Those videos get her every time. She cries. Sobs, really, and right now she sounds like she just got done watching a long line of welcome home videos.
“Oh, hush, I’m fine,” she says unconvincingly. “I’m just so proud of you, Lux. And I’m honored to be your momma.”
“Mom, what’s with the emotions? I haven’t done anything for you to bethatproud of,” I mumble.
“Hey, you’re strong, and that’s a trait some can only aspire to have.”
While rolling my eyes, I’m startled when the back door is thrown open. Sitting up straighter, I glance over and see it’s Kelly, one of the other bartenders and Macie’s best friend.
I give her a small smile before a muffled voice in the background, followed by my mom’s gasp comes through the phone.
“Mom, are?—”
The faint sound of a man’s voice mixed with some shuffling, sounds over the line before my Mom’s voice comes through an octave higher. “Angelo?”
“Mom? Are you okay?” I ask, bringing myself to the edge of the bench. My heart rate elevates when she doesn’t respond right away.
“Mom!” I hiss out, trying to get her attention while also attempting to keep from drawing unwanted attention from Kelly, but she eyes me warily over the screen of her phone.
“I-I have to go, sweetie,” my mom finally says, but her stammer, along with the sudden worried tone, has me on edge. Saying bye isn’t something I’m inclined to do right now.
“Mom, what’s going on? I heard a voice in the background, and now you sound worried. Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes, I’m fine,” she replies, hastily brushing me off and forcing her voice back to normal. But I know when something is off.
“Mom—”
“Sweetie, I have to get going, but I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“But—”
“I love you. Text me when you get home from work tonight so I know you made it back to the apartment safely.”
Sighing, I begrudgingly say, “Okay. I love you, too. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”
“I look forward to it. Bye, sweetie.”
“Bye, Mom.”
Hanging up is difficult to do when there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me something was off with that conversation. My mom might have tried to act like it was nothing, but I know her well enough to know that something is up.
