my mom is billie eilish

Chapter 2: Meeting the Stranger

The next day felt surreal, like I was moving through a dream—or more accurately, a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Every time I blinked, I expected to be back in my old life, with my biggest worry being a history test or whether I could stand another awkward conversation with Mrs. Thompson about what I wanted for dinner. But instead, the memory of Billie Eilish's voice—her soft, hesitant words—echoed in my mind, replaying over and over like a broken record.

She said she was my mother.

I must've read through the documents a hundred times that night, my eyes tracing the same lines of text, hoping to find some loophole, some way to prove it all wrong. But the papers didn't lie. Neither did the photo tucked into the folder—a faded picture of a much younger Billie, cradling a newborn in her arms. My newborn self. The resemblance was undeniable, even then.

I couldn't stay home from school, though the idea of seeing Billie again was enough to make my stomach churn. The possibility that she might show up again, maybe this time with even more shocking news, kept me on edge all morning. But there was no sign of her. School was a blurry mess of half-heard lectures and background noise, none of which I could focus on. The only thing clear in my mind was the decision I knew I had to make.

By the time the final bell rang, I'd made up my mind. I was going to meet her. I needed answers, and I wasn't going to get them by hiding in my room, hoping this would all go away.

My hands shook as I dialed the number on the card she'd given me. It rang twice before her voice came through, a little breathless, like she had been waiting for this call as much as I had been dreading it.

"Katherine?" she asked, her voice careful, like she was afraid of scaring me off.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to keep my tone steady. "I... I want to talk. Can we meet somewhere?"

There was a brief pause, and I could almost hear her relief through the phone. "Of course. I'm staying at a hotel nearby—would you like to come here, or is there somewhere else you'd prefer?"

I thought about it for a moment, the idea of meeting her in some fancy hotel lobby making me feel even more out of place than I already did. "There's a café a few blocks from the school... Starbucks. Can you meet me there?"

"Perfect," she said, her voice warm. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Thank you, Katherine. Really."

"Yeah, okay," I mumbled, feeling awkward and overwhelmed. "I'll see you there."

I hung up and stuffed the phone back into my pocket, already second-guessing my decision. But it was too late now. I had to see this through, no matter how terrifying it was.

The walk to the café felt longer than usual, every step weighed down by anxiety. When I finally arrived, I scanned the room nervously, my eyes darting between the small clusters of people hunched over laptops or chatting quietly. And then I saw her, sitting alone at a corner table, a coffee cup in front of her, untouched.

She looked different out of the spotlight, more ordinary somehow. Her platinum hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she wore a simple black hoodie, the hood pulled low over her head. But when she looked up and saw me, the vulnerability in her eyes was unmistakable. She wasn't Billie Eilish, the global superstar, right now. She was just... Billie. And apparently, she was my mother.

I hesitated at the entrance, wondering if I should turn back. But she gave me a small, nervous smile that drew me in, and before I knew it, I was walking over to her table.

"Hi," I said, sliding into the chair across from her. My voice felt small, like I was someone else entirely.

"Hi," she replied, still smiling, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "Thank you for meeting me."