Come What May

2. here and now

CHAPTER TWO

HERE AND NOW

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• friday, march 5th •

"... You didn't call, didn't message, didn't even post a picture on that Instagram account of yours, with that user handle that I still can't read. Nothing!"

"Mom," I laugh out, the crackle of the television in the background making me feel so at home that all I can do is close my eyes and take in everything— Jen's voice asking Mom if she can talk to me, the grandfather clock that they bought for half the price chiming in the background, the microwave beeping in the background loud enough to annoy anyone else, but I'm used to it. I yearn for it. "I'm sorry. I texted you though!"

O

f course, Mom doesn't pay attention to any of that and just huffs. "What did I say? Call me when you reach," she parrots, but I know that she isn't serious, because she rarely ever is.

Now that I think about it, the only time I've ever seen her be serious is when the kids at school would bully me, for countless reasons, ranging from how "feminine" I sounded and still sound to how having two moms was unnatural.

"I know, I know," I huff, glancing at Radhika, who's scrolling through something on my laptop. Eyes involuntarily flitting to the screen, I squint, reading the words that she's hastily typing in. Storm Renaldi?

"Is that it?" It's Jen speaking now, voice just as demanding than Mom's, but still airy enough to let me know that she's joking, too. "Can you believe this, Liana? We raise this child, for almost ten years now, and this is how he treats us? Doesn't even give us a call when he's in the same state— no, in the same city as us. The audacity. Simply unbelievable."

Five years without them, and it doesn't strike me until now just how much I've missed Mom and her hyena laughs at Jen's cooking failures, Jen giving me a bowl of cereal for breakfast and begging me not to tell Mom that it's because she burnt the pancakes, the both of them cursing in every other sentence and then telling me that it's okay to curse in front of them, the three of us watching psychological thrillers together even though they despise anything that isn't romance or comedy.

"I'm sorry!" I breathe out with a laugh. "I'll come by soon. There's a shoot tomorrow, and there's like— a model party thing next week or something. I dunno. Unfortunately, I have to attend that, and also, there's—"

"Yes, yes, our son is famous," Mom interrupts, her clearing her throat immediately after being the only sign that she's about to shift into something serious. And that's exactly what she does, by saying, "I'm so proud of you. Jen and I, both. I don't want to bore you or make you cry, but I just want you to know that I'm really fucking proud of you. Okay? Visit whenever, we're just joking around. We know you're busy," she assures with a small laugh, one that sends a spike to my chest.

Swallowing down the thorns that are pricking at my throat, I hum weakly. "I'll come by soon, I promise. Once my schedule clears up a little. I—" Say it. They're your parents, this should be easy to say. "I love you, Mom. And Jen. Both of you."

The both of them are saying it back to me, but out of nowhere, Radhika's tugging on the sleeve of my t-shirt and mumbling, "You didn't even let me talk to them, you bastard", so I end the call and shoot a frown in her direction.

"You say it as if you don't meet them every week," I shoot back, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and glancing at the laptop. "Why are you looking up Storm Renaldi? I already looked them up."