Rain

seven

My fingers shakily pressed down on the dials. I was scared as the first ring let out a small cry. Maybe she wasn’t home? Second ring. Maybe she changed her number? Third ring. Okay on the fifth ring I hang up, no voicemail or anything. Fourth ring.

I shot a deep breath through my lips and began to part the cordless phone from my ear when I hear a soft voice: “Hello?”

My mouth opened and I stood there shocked at her weary voice. “M-mom?” Every inch of me was numb and freezing. It’s been over two years since we last spoke.

It was a warm October day, my birthday to be exact. All was well I just turned eighteen and my mom had cooked me spaghetti and a small cake which is her specialty, if I do say so myself. I was excited because Naylan had invited me to go clubbing with her and I had slipped on a skin tight black dress with electric blue heels. I strutted rather awkwardly down the hall of our two story house. I explained to my mom that I was going out and she had a cow. She lectured me about how hospital’s don’t hire good for nothing sluts and what not.

Her screeches could be heard from China! Her eyes were wide and red with rage and I could hint smoke spewing from her ears. It was rather comedic in a way, but I bit my tongue until she told me I would never amount to anything, it was like a slap to the face. My whole body tingled with anger, and this boiling rage pricked my stomach and crawled up my throat into my face. I told her off. I told her off to the point she cried and threw things at me; anything she could get her bony fingers on. I was used to her hectic personality and I just planned to go out and come back to find her knocked out on the recliner, her favorite blanket tucked under her chin, but she said it. Those words still haunt me to this very damn day. She cocked her head up and her face froze. She planned this way before it even happened, there was no going back. Her pointy lips curled into a vengeful sneer:

“You’ll NEVER be like your father!” She emphasized never so cruelly it broke me. After eighteen damn years she finally broke me. I said nothing I just marched upstairs and packed all my belongings into a suitcase and walked to Naylan’s. Then I met Dylan and you know from there on.

“It’s me Everly.” I relied reluctantly. There was no response but if somewhere in the other line someone dropped a pin, I would’ve heard it. I faintly heard the deep breathing of my mom and knew she was still on. I wondered suddenly if she could hear my heart beating against my chest, or the blood pulsing through my entire body. Maybe, maybe not. I know after all this time her being a complete b-word I still want to make amends. I don’t want to hear some day she passed away alone and bitter because her daughter never tried reaching out to her, plus I really need my mother.

“Yes well how are you Everly?” She ripped the silence like a carnivorous lion would rip apart its prey, but it felt good! “Fine pretty good and you?”

A faint chuckle escaped me. This is good; very good. “I’m great, just a little surprised that you’d call.”

I leaned against the wall and twirled with my hair absent mindedly. After a couple more minutes of small talk and a promise to keep in touch we clicked. After I set the phone down I pirouetted my ass all around the apartment, and in a way disturbing Naylan’s foreign exchange meeting, but I didn’t care! I talked to my mom!

My toes felt like if they were made of soft clouds. I swear my boots barley scrapped the floor.

“Evy you good?” Naylan proceeded to excuse herself and pulled me aside. I gripped her forearm as if my life depended on it, “OH MY GOD! My mom, I talked to her!”

Naylan’s soft features slowly went blank then hyper as she pulled me for a hug, “Oh my God that’s great! I’m happy for you! Are you guys going to meet up?”

We were giddy with excitement and honestly I don’t know why. My mom’s honestly well a bitch. She never wanted me to peruse my dreams. She hated literature with a burning passion and well it was my passion. I can’t believe she doesn’t understand. I mean it was my father, her husband, who introduced me to the amazing world of make believe and fantasy. I wasn’t an odd ball or a loner, quite honestly the opposite. I had a handful of people I could really call friends, I had decent grades, and I had a loving father and a hectic mother who wanted nothing but for me to be a doctor.

If anything my life was perfect until that day. It was a cold February, it was raining. . .

“Everly?”

“Hm? Oh no we’re just keeping in touch.” I snap out of my flashback, thank heavens because I was starting to feel numb and cold.

Naylan smiled brightly, “Baby steps, that’s good.” She rubbed wide circles on my back warming me pleasantly. She steers me back to the living room where the European kids were waiting, their curious eyes glued on us. I shifted my weight and boiled some water on the kettle. I watched with joy as the kettle’s handle sent refreshing warmth to my fingers. As I poured I watched the black coffee grinds swirl until all was black. “Smells good, mind if I make a cup?”

I glanced up at Liam’s warm eyes and instantly my whole body feels on fire, as if I spent an hour too long burning off my skin down at long beach. His eyebrows arched slightly, “May I?” His eyes flickered to the kettle in my hand. I swallowed and handed him the kettle, but the brush of his hand was warmer than any kettle of water I’ve ever boiled. I pulled out an extra spoon on my way back to my cup as I mixed in the milk and creamer.

“So are you two in good terms?” he was arranging the milk and creamer back in the fridge. It took three long strides from his legs to reach me and the counter. I brought the cup to my lips and blew over some steam. I set it down gently and shook my head, feeling my copper strand of hair flint around my neck.

“Not yet.” I took a timid gulp from my cup and decided I shouldn’t be rude, “What about you? Your parents?” His lean back was against the counter. His elbow merely six inches from mine, but it was enough for me to feel on edge. He took a gulp as well and smiled faintly, “Well it’s hard to say. I mean they divorced back when I was like what?” His nose did this cute little scrunch as he recalls, “Since I was seven? Most weekdays I stay with mum and weekends are spent with dad. Pretty normal if you ask me.”

“How was it like? Being with your father?” I bombarded him with petty questions. He finished his cup of coffee and chuckled causing little wrinkles to crease the corner of his beautiful hazel eyes. “Do you have some sick crush on my father?” He asked. We both laughed and I squeezed his shoulder. “No it’s just- never mind.” I blushed madly but quickly hid my reddening face behind a curtain of my hair. Liam set his cup down, “Aw c’mon you can’t pull that shit on me. Now you have to tell me.” His voice had a shot of child-like annoyance and persistence to it. His rough fingers slowly emerged behind my hair as he pulled it back. “I’m just a very curious person.” I forced a smile on my face and he bought it, I think.

His eyes were locked on mine and I felt myself grow dizzy. A raspy laugh escaped his perfectly full pink lips, “Ever heard curiosity killed the cat?”

“Ever heard last person in the kitchen cleans the kitchen?” I tried to sound carefree and lenient. As I charged for the door frame.