When Michael returned downstairs a few minutes later, still coasting on the high that his trip with Ari had resulted in, Suzanne was sitting at the kitchen table reading a well-worn book.
"Oh, Michael," Suzanne looked up from the pages of her book. "Your mother called several times while you were gone. I forgot to tell you earlier." She gestured to the home phone on its charger in the corner of the kitchen counter.
"Oh..." Michael had to fight not to roll his eyes. "What did she say?"
"She told me to tell you to call her when you got back. She seemed pretty eager to talk to you," Suzanne smiled. "I'm mostly judging by the fact that she called five times."
"Uh...yeah..." Michael tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make Suzanne think he was ignoring his mother, which he sort of was. "She called my phone too."
"Did you talk to her?" Suzanne asked.
"Um..." Michael bit his lip. "No."
Suzanne sighed.
Just as she was opening her mouth, presumably to tell him off, the phone gave a piercing ring and Sue turned her head towards it.
"Maybe that's her." Suzanne stood up to answer it.
Michael, who was hoping the exact opposite, crossed his fingers behind his back.
Suzanne answered it, listened for a moment and then said. "Yep," before lowering the phone from her ear. "Michael, it's for you."
Michael shook his head vigorously, but Suzanne thrust the phone into his grip and he groaned inwardly before holding the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" He bit his lip.
"Hi."
Michael sighed with relief, hearing the familiar female voice that wasn't his mothers. "Marcia."
He remembered her arms around him at Grace's funeral, and remembering that day made him feel like he had stuck one hand in warm water, and one in ice cold.
"Hey," Her voice sounded strange. Guilty almost. "so, how's Canada?"
"It's fine," Michael narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Um..." He could practically hear her twisting a blue streak around her finger, something she did only when she was nervous. "Okay, listen. Don't be mad, but she totally just showed up at my house and went on about how you'd pick up if you knew it was me and asked me to call you and, well, here she is."
There was a shuffle on the other end, and then an all too familiar voice said, "Michael."
Michael gritted his teeth.
"Michael, I've-"
"I don't want to talk to you, mom." Michael interrupted her.
"I know," Mrs. Clifford sighed. "I know, but please, just listen to what I have to say to you."
"I'm sorry, but I'm really not in the mood for more lecturing about what a terrible son I am, so if you'll please - "
"No, I'm sorry," It was her turn to interrupt. "I've thought long and hard about it, and...I'm sorry. I know you hate me now, but I was wrong to treat you that way. I was wrong to send you there, and I was wrong to act like it was your fault. I'm not trying to make excuses, but when Grace died, I was grief stricken. I was searching for someone to blame, because I thought it would make me feel better, and when it didn't, I was confused and it only made me angrier with you. But Michael, I was wrong to be angry."
There was a brief silence during which all Michael could hear was his mothers shaky breathing on the other end, and then she continued.
"I know you probably hate me now, but please know that I'm so, so sorry, and I love you just as much as I loved Grace. And it was not your fault she died. It was nobody's fault. This is going to sound sort of heartless, but things happen, Michael. Terrible things happen sometimes, and they seem like they happen for no reason, but they always do."
Michael suddenly realized he was crying. "I'm sorry." He whispered, his voice choked and full of tears.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Mrs. Clifford insisted. "Grace's death was not your fault. I'm so sorry for ever making you think that, because it's one hundred percent not true."
Michael swallowed.
And then he hung up.
Thanks for reading!
Loser_Luke
