Big Shot | ✓

32 | irrational

"Mom, I'm sorry, but I need to be here."

I balanced my phone between my shoulder and my ear as I made sure the door to my office was locked, jiggling the handle a few times despite the fact that I knew it auto-locked and was only accessible by key card. You could never keep your creative property too safe.

"Jo, it's the only holiday that all of the cousins can get together," Mom sighed out on the other line. "You've always come home for the long weekend."

While I'd already had the conversation with my mother earlier this month about staying at Clemson for Thanksgiving, she was making one last-ditch effort even though it was already Tuesday of the holiday week. She'd even gone so far as to offer to pay for my last-minute flight.

"Well, that was before I had to be back here to make Instagram content for the most important rivalry in South Carolina," I stated in a matter-of-factly tone. "And contrary to popular belief, it's not Aldi vs. Food Lion."

She was undeterred. "You could leave Friday morning."

It was my turn to sigh. "Not only is it unreasonable to have a 48-hour turnaround for a trip, it's also cutting it too close. What if my flight was delayed? What if they lost my luggage? I can't afford any plane-related missteps or mishaps."

And obviously if I could avoid getting on a plane altogether, that would be ideal. I stopped in the lobby of the football complex to try and collect myself, pressing my hand to my forehead and taking a few breaths. It was situations like this that made me wonder if my mom took everything I did personally - from where I went to school to what I studied to not coming home for holidays - as if I made decisions based on what she didn't want. 

The only thing that stopped that guilty weed from growing is that I knew I didn't. I made decisions based on myself, and myself alone. Maybe it was a little selfish, but it wasn't ill-intentioned.

"Are you sure you're okay with being alone for the holiday?" Her voice softened just a touch. She was still my mom, and I didn't like making her feel bad either.

"Mom, it'll be fine," I assured her, matching the delicateness of her tone. "I don't even like turkey that much. I could probably cook myself something more appealing. No offense."

"Very funny, Jo." I heard her grin on the other end.

Most people had already gone home for the week before we all had to be back for the game. It even smelled extra Pine Sol-y, in the way they deep clean the place when they know nobody will be there for a while. But in the silence, I became hyper-aware of the sound of someone's sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor.

My mother continued, but her words were lost in the sound of the blood rushing through my ears as Reid came up beside me and nudged me in the arm. Because of course, if there was one person leaving after I was, it was him.

"Sorry, what?" I said into the phone, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him grin.

"Nothing," Mom sighed. "Guess I can't get you to change your mind, huh?"

"Nope." I shook my head, feeling Reid lingering beside me. I started walking towards the door, and he followed. "I gotta go, okay? I'll call you later, love you."

I hung up before I could hear her response.

"All good?" Reid asked as he held the glass doors open for me.

"My mom was making one last-ditch effort to get me to come up to New York for Thanksgiving," I told him as he fell into step beside me. "Even if I liked flying, it makes no sense for me to go there for two days and rush back here. I need to be prepped and ready for College Gameday."