Francine & Earl

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Earl woke to the sound of his phone blaring in his ear.

He groaned when he felt the vibration under his pillow, already knowing that it was too early for this. He had no clue on who would call him in the morning, if at all. Mae and Jonathon were worse than him when it came to sleep, and Francine had been radio-silent for the past few days. Tugging the device from beneath him, Earl blindly answered the phone and held it to his ear.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

He immediately drew it away. The loud and obnoxious voice continued to sing the song, and Earl was so out of it, he began to think it was actually his birthday.

Then he remembered that it was fall when he was born in summer.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!" they closed out with a yell, giggling to themselves.

Earl glanced at the clock on his dresser and held back a groan when he saw that it was three o'clock. He wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, and it was a school day. Settling back against his pillows, he sighed.

"I think you have the wrong number," his gruff voice answered, and he pinched himself to stay awake. He had spent all night cramming for a science test he had the following day, rushing because he had spent over two hours after school for football practice. The pain from running suicides* up the bleachers was already getting to him.

"Of course I don't, silly," the woman's voice cooed, and his eyes widened when he recognized it. It was a voice that, instead of singing him lullabies and telling him stories, filled the house with demands for money and constant arguing.

His mother.

"Mom?" Earl asked, hating the feeling of excitement that pooled in his stomach. It was unwanted in the turmoil he was already facing. Despite all of the things she had put his family through, he still loved her and had no idea how to stop.

"The one and only," she joked, and he heard rustling on the other line. She acted as though they had these spontaneous conversations all the time, when in reality, this was the first time he had heard from her in two years.

"So," he began, feeling slightly awkward. How did you talk to someone that decided to leave, becoming a stranger when they shouldn't be? A person that was the cause of your largest struggles? Earl had no clue.

"How's . . . life?" he asked, not really wanting to know the answer. She could have a whole other family, with children she saw everyday and a husband she actually loved, and he wasn't sure that he could handle this on a random Tuesday morning.

She sighed dramatically, and Earl immediately knew what she wanted then.

"Oh, I'm in a bit of a rut, darling," she said, and he could almost imagine the stereotypical hand held to her forehead as if she was about to faint in a really bad daytime soap opera. "My luck has run out, and I need a pick-me-up."

Trying to conceal how hurt he was, Earl just bluntly stated the subject she was trying to butter him up for.

"How much?"

His mother laughed on the other end, a nervous lilt in her voice. "What do you mean by that, dear? I'm just calling to wish you a happy birthday."

"My birthday's in June."

It was silent.

"Oh," she stated uncomfortably, "Well, happy early birthday. You're turning sixteen this year, right?"

She's just digging her grave deeper.

Shaking his head, Earl looked at his window. The sun was beginning to filter through his curtains, and he just wished that he let the phone ring itself out.