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“It’stheday. I know you like to honor it in your own way.”
“I do.” One time, we’d had a brief discussion about how I thought of it as a death anniversary.
“I wanted to call you and tell you that I know you think Dad and I don’t think about it, but we do. We miss him too.”
That was more thought and emotion than I’d thought was possible from my mom. “O-kay.”
She sighed. “Have you settled into Grandma’s house, then?”
This small talk also took me by surprise. “Yes.”
There was silence over the line. A bird chirped in the distance.
“Where are you and Dad right now?”
“New York. Well, I’m in New York. Dad took another assignment.”
That sounded cryptic, but I wasn’t in the mood to chase down where my father had gone on yet another important journalistic assignment. “Oh.”
Silence fell between us.
“I’m actually working with a photographer to capture millennial life and how it differs from people our own age.”
“Oh, neat.” She was always doing something academic like that, and I wondered if she would publish it in some college journal.
“And your divorce is final? We always liked Brian.”
That comment caught me off guard and reminded me why I never cared about talking with my mother. “It is,” I said slowly. “I told you he was abusive.”
“Do you think you’re just sensitive?”
That floored me. “The fact that he pushed me several times and hit me makes me sensitive?”
“Man, El, you always have to be so extreme. You and Greg were both extreme; that’s the only reason you were out freestyle climbing that day. You were both so, so, so extreme.”
My mouth went dry. “What?”
“You know it’s true.”
I gaped, staring off into space. How could she say something like that?
“On another topic, have you seen a box of photograph books that your grandmother had of you and Greg when you were young?”
Now I was ticked off. “You know, Mom, I have to go.”
“Don’t be such a child. I just want some old pictures back. That’s all.”
“Why would you want that, Mom? Do you need a picture of us for some article? I don’t know why else you’d want pictures of your extreme children.” I pressed end on the call, my heart racing.
I pushed the blanket off and turned off the heater. Needing to get some of my energy out, I went into the house and to my room. I hadn’t moved my things into my grandmother’s room, even though it was the biggest one; I was still in the room I’dalways used while growing up. I hadn’t even gone into Greg’s room. I knew it would still be the same.
My mother was ridiculous. Greg would agree!
I put on my sweats and a sweatshirt with some running shoes. I pulled my hair back into a tight bun, found my AirPods, grabbed my phone, and then made sure the front and back doors were locked, slipping the key into my sock. With all of that taken care of, I took off down the road, heading toward the lakeside. It would be busy. At least, I hoped so.
I had done an eight-mile loop, then made my way back to the house, walking down the driveway for my cooldown, when I saw a red Mustang convertible parked and waiting for me. Kayla’s Mustang.
My pace faltered as she got out of the car. Kayla had always dressed fancy. Currently, she wore black slacks, spiked boots, and a red leather jacket that matched the car. Her blonde hair was wild and perfectly curled; she’d always looked like she’d gotten a perfect perm. Her lipstick was bright, and her eyebrows were pencil thin.
