Big Girl Boots

Twenty-Six

"Buzz, buzz, buzz..." The phone I had clutched in my right hand hummed the repetitive tone that let me know the other line was ringing. It was obnoxious. I drummed the fingers of my left hand on the Ranger's steering wheel in rhythm with the buzzes and waited.

My lower lip had been tucked between my teeth since the moment I hit the call button next to the silly contact picture I had of my mother. A feeling of intense trepidation, mixed in with a little regret, had settled itself in the pit of my stomach. The longer the phone buzzed, the more I felt like throwing up. I let out a shaky sigh as it went to voicemail and prepared to just hang up. This wasn't something I could just tell my mother about in a message. Really, what I'd done should have warranted a face to face conversation instead of a phone call, and if I was still a little kid, probably a well-deserved spanking. 

"Blake?" My mom's lively voice interrupted the monotonous recording of her asking any caller to leave a message so she could call them back. Her real voice was a little breathless and I guessed she'd just sprinted inside or across the house.

"Mama?"

"Hey, sis, what's up?" I pictured her shoving the hair back from her face in much the same fashion I did. Even though it wasn't something I used to like admitting, I carried out a lot of my mother's habits.

I sucked a deep breath of the cold air inside my pickup. Even though I'd been sitting outside for nearly ten minutes, I hadn't bothered to start it yet. I needed to be able to think about what I should say without the distraction of a heater or a rumbling engine. Because of the Christmas-themed air freshener my parents had hung from the rearview mirror before bringing it down, my Ranger smelled like candy canes. The minty scent made the air seem even colder, but it wasn't bad. It helped clear my head.

"Blake? You there?"

Without even realizing it, I'd gotten lost in my thoughts and totally ignored my mother. "Hey, mama," I exhaled, dropping my head, "I'm here."

I heard a bit of rustling on her end. "What time is it?Aren't you still in school?"

Now I leaned my skull against the headrest of my seat and closed my eyes. There was obviously no way I was just going to get away with what I'd done, but I'd spent the last twenty minutes hoping my mom would at least begin the call thinking I just wanted to visit. She was smart, though; too smart to be outwitted by me. "I'm sitting in the parking lot."

"Why's that? Are you feeling okay?" More rustling ensued. I assumed she was in the kitchen by the metallic clank that followed.

I bit my upper lip. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Alright, missy," all noise stopped so it was just my mother's voice, loud and clear, "what're you up to, then? I doubt any of your teachers would just let you wander out to the parking lot to chat with your mama."

I released a breath and scrambled to find a decent explanation. "Well, I kinda got sent outside..."

When I didn't continue, mom spoke up. Her voice was full of warning and I flinched involuntarily. "Blake Williams, what did you do this time?"

My jaw flexed at her sudden accusing tone, not that it came undeserved... I just didn't like the way she was suddenly back to her old self. We had made so much progress over Christmas break and it was killing me to see it crumble. That was what I had been more and more afraid of with every unanswered ring of the phone. I was well aware that trust was a fragile thing, and unfortunately my mom and I had the same response to broken trust. It was never pretty.

I drew in a breath that was supposed to be calming and worked up a small amount of courage. "Mom, will you hear me out before you yell? Please?" My voice was a pleading whimper. Normally I scoffed at people who felt the need to use tones like that, but I was desperate.