One Touch | Charlie Gillespie

F O U R T E E N

"Great, then that's a date."

A thousand thoughts race through my mind, and they all wonder why my mother— the woman whom I haven't spoken to in months— is calling me right now. I hesitate for a moment if I should answer the phone or not.

Honestly, I don't see a reason why I shouldn't. Sure, she has been a terrible Mom. She didn't take care of me when I needed her, I know that. But she is and will always be my mother, even though she doesn't deserve the credit for that name. That realization was all it takes to grab my phone, swipe to the right and press my phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I voice, nervous about what I will hear on the other end of the line. "Junie?" a rough, hoarse voice asks. A cold shiver runs down my spine when I hear that nickname. My mother is the only one to call me that ever since I was a kid. She made it up because it rhymes with Judy, which is her own name.

"Why're you calling me?" I question a little too bluntly, not really wanting to know the answer. "I... just wanted to ask you how you're doing. I heard you have a job in Canada?"
I roll my eyes and swallow to get moisture into my dry throat, knowing she doesn't care about the job nor how I'm doing. It's always the same: either she calls for money, or to let me know she's in trouble and needs my help.

"Mom, just tell me what you need," I say, trying to keep my voice straight. I hear a deep sigh on the other end of the line, realizing I was right. She wants something from me. Disappointment swirls through my stomach, and all I can do is try to keep my tears from flowing. She isn't worth crying, and I don't want her to see— or hear— me at my weakest.

"Can I borrow some money?" she voices, not even feeling the slightest bit of guilt for asking her own daughter. "You know, I've already tried to reach your father, but he doesn't answer the pho—"

"God, how can you still misuse us and our money?" I cut her off, a tone of disbelief mixing with my voice. "You screwed up your marriage and that's your own fucking fault, so don't come crying for money 'cause I won't give you any!"

Just as I expected, there's silence on the phone. She knows I'm right, but she'll never admit it. The woman always wants to have the last word which is something else I inherited from her.

Well, like mother like daughter, I guess.

Quinn and I both come from wealthy families. Our parents, her mother and my father, whom are brother and sister, run a company that is now one of the biggest in the world. It's a worldwide restaurant named Riley's.
At first, I thought my Mom married my Dad because of the business and the money it makes. But if she was, she wouldn't be stupid enough to run off with another man and lose her house, family and reputation. So God knows what the real reason was for her to walk down the aisle with my father waiting for her, because everyone knows she never loved him.

"You're right. I'm sorry I called," she mutters, and her voice is replaced by the peep that means she hung up. Not the answer I expected, but hey, Judy wouldn't be Judy if she wasn't full of surprises.

Annoyed at my Mom having to ruin the start of the day, I tuck my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, grab my things and head out the door on my way to work. I pass Quinn in the hallways and mumble her good luck with her modeling shoot she has today, still a bit upset about her night with Owen.

I arrive at the set, seeing Jadah and Madi doing a scene in the set up garage. I keep watching for a while, amused by the amazing acting they're pulling off. "They're great, huh?" someone says with a twist of laughter in their voice, standing next to me with their arms folded. I turn my gaze to the right and glare at the mocha brown-haired boy's side profile, wearing his Luke clothes and his smile widened as he watches the girls.