Between Then & Now || Currently Editing for Wattys 2022

6.

The cloth is smooth under my fingers as I smooth my graduation gown hung over my closet door. After I managed to recover from my hangover, I forced myself out of the house to go grab my gown and cap, praying on anything I believe in to, please, not run into those two. My graduation dress hangs next to it, ready to go for tomorrow. When I turn around, my phone displays a blank wall and the top of my mom's desk–except the top of the desk is on the top of the screen, the papers scattered across it seemingly defying gravity.

I giggle, stepping away from the closer towards the phone on the desk and the basket of laundry next to it.

"Ma. The phone is upside down again. And facing the other direction." Over the video call, I can hear her grumbling, trying to figure out what kind of technology the reptilian world order is trying to brainwash us with or whatever. From somewhere in the background, I hear my Aunt Rivers laughing at her.

"Come on, Willow, I'm older than you, and I've got this figured out." Suddenly, the phone flips around, and my aunt smiles at me through the screen, her red hair lit on fire by the sun. "Hey there, Lala."

I smile back at her, laughing at their banter. Sometimes, they make me wish I had a sibling.

"Hey, Auntie. What are you up to?" My hands glide across my graduation gown as it hangs from the top of my closet door, ready for tomorrow.

"Well, I'm all finished packing to fly out in five hours but you know how your mom is–"

"I don't want to hear it from you, Riv." My mom grumbles more in the background, and I snort.

Promptly, another voice rings through. "I mean she's not wrong. You did just start packing thirty minutes ago." After a few moments, a teenage boy's face pops up, taking up the whole screen and giving me a clear view of his nostrils.

Ah, yes. And the reason why I'm grateful I don't have siblings. Connor.

"Hi, Ola. Feelin' old, yet?" Connor grabs the phone, pulling himself into the full frame. I glare at him, and he laughs, giving my mom her phone back.

As she takes it from him, she lowers her tortoise-shell glasses on the bridge of her nose, her crazy curly gray hair floating about her. In reality, my mom is only forty-two–but her crow's eyes, silvery mane, dark complexion and love for old (very old) things gives her the aura of a wise old crone.

Which, oddly enough, I think she likes.

"Should I bring two singing bowls or just one?" She sets up the phone to face her and picks up two of the million bronze-colored bowls scattered around her house. I just laugh and shake my head, folding a pair of socks from in the basket. When I look back up, I find that her partner, Kai, has entered the frame, wrapping their arms around my Ma's shoulders from behind.

"Hey, Kai!" I smile at their familiar long, dark brown locks, John Lennon-style glasses and familiar forehead wrinkles. For a few months after my father left us, my mom was a little lost. All of my life, I only ever remember her being grounded and calm and loving. Except for those nine months. Then, she met Kai, and, for the last ten years, they've been inseparable. "Please say you're coming with. I need someone to keep Ma sane."

They chuckle, pulling away from my mom and rubbing her shoulders. "Of course I am." Their left hand reaches forward to grab one of the singing bowls from in front of her. "And I think one singing bowl is just fine, love. We'll only be there for a few days."

My mom sighs, and I laugh, picking up my phone to walk over to my dresser and put my clothes away. "I don't think your chakras will unalign during that time, Ma."

"Your chakras are unaligned, though." She grumbles, the mallet clinging with the singing bowl in the background.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, tilting my head at her and setting the freshly folded t-shirt down on the desk in front of my phone. "And why's that?"

One of her turquoise-ring clad fingers pushes her glasses up on her nose as she gives me the mom look. Yep, even over Facetime. "Your heart chakra is blocked. I can sense it."

For a second, I don't say anything, and the other side of the phone is just as silent. By now, I'm sure my Ma already told everyone what happened with Michael, and there really isn't any reason to be mad at her for doing so. It's not like what happened is my fault or anything to be ashamed of.

But some part of it still stings.

"Right." I drape the unfolded t-shirt I was fiddling with on the back of the desk chair and turn around to sit on the bed across from the desk, wiping my hands on my leggings.

My mom's face drops as she realizes she hit a sore note. "Honey, I'm sorry." She looks over her shoulder and there's a scuffling as everyone else leaves the room. "I shouldn't have said that with everyone here."

"It's okay," I sigh, nodding my head a bit. "It's not like I can really blame you–you're not wrong."

"I know, but I didn't need to say anything with everyone in the room, and I'm sorry." She gives me a soft smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling up, and I can't help but smile back. She might fuck up sometimes–everyone does–but at least she respects me.

"But I do think that maybe it would be good for you to just take some time off. Don't stress over applications or boys or finding a place to stay. You still have Grandpa's inheritance money, and you can stay with Sarah or come home for a bit if you want." She clears her throat, shuffling some papers on her desk. "I know you might not want to talk about it, but you and Michael were together for three years, and that's not an insubstantial change in your life. It might do you some good to find yourself a bit."

I stand up, moving toward the basket on my desk to finish folding the clothes in it. "Ma, you know I can't do that. I don't want to throw away grandpa's money just because I couldn't find a job."

"Okay, okay." There's some more shuffling on the other end as I fold another pair of socks. "I just figured it might be a good idea to bring up."

"I know, mom, thank you. I'll find a job, though. No one else seems to be struggling, so I know there's something. I just don't get what the problem is. My GPA is decent, I was in so many clubs and even started the club about documentaries. And I interned with Sundance last year. Like, I don't know what else they could possibly want."

A ball of socks bounces on the desk a bit when I drop it. My eyes trace the pattern in the wooden top, noting the variations of beige and brown and apricot.

"Maybe that's the universe trying to tell you that you just aren't looking in the right place." My mom looks at her phone again, and I meet her eyes as she leans forward. "You will end up where you are meant to be, LaLa. Don't stress about it. The universe always shows you what you need, whether you like it or not."

My shoulders drop, and I nod. "Yeah. I know."

"I'm serious, love. You will be okay. You're just graduating college for goodness sake–you aren't supposed to have your entire life figured out, yet. And you don't need to be with anyone to have fun. Go on a vacation, go adventure, go crazy. You are only 22 years old once. Make the most of it." She stands up, picking her phone up with her and starts walking through the house. I pick mine up, too, mirroring her, and flop down on the bed as she walks into her closet, her many tie-dyed shirts hanging in the background, sorted by color. "Now I need to finish packing or I'm never going to make this flight."

I groan, rolling over. "Okay."

"I'll see you soon."

"See you soon."

There's a pause.

"Love you."

"I love you, too, Ma."

"I mean it."

I sigh, picking up my phone to give her the daughter look through the screen. "I know."

She laughs and I hear Kai's voice from somewhere in the background. "Just making sure." The line clicks off, and I toss my phone onto the bed, plopping back, and let out an exhausted groan.