Home Is Where the Heart Is

380 3 0
  • Dedicated to Michael Phelps, the greatest Olympian ever
                                    

              “I’m just saying, this could be for the best, honey,” Debbie said while balancing the phone on her shoulder as she cut up some more red peppers.

              “I’m twenty-seven, mom. The last thing I need is to be living with my mom. And besides, what if I want to keep training?” her son retorted from thousands of miles away.

              “You told me to tell you this when you asked to train again. You’re done, sweetie. You know you are. So why is it doing you any good to be in Cali and watch everyone else train. You’re just torturing yourself. You can come live in the basement and get back on your feet. You can prove to everyone that you’re even bigger than you appear. Get a job, meet a girl. It’s all perfect,” Debbie continued as her daughter walked through the front door.

              “Hey, Whitty.”

              “Hey, ma,” she said with her little girl toted on her hip and her husband trailing with the diaper bag.

              “Look, you sleep on this and get back to me tomorrow. It’s time for you to settle down, and I’m serious. You’re done with swimming. It’s gone, it’s over. You just need to come home. I gotta go, Whitney, Adam, and Lorelei just came over and I’m sure Hill’s on her way. Bye, baby,” Debbie said.

              “Bye, mom. Tell Whit and Hill I say hi,” her son sighed before hanging up the phone.

              “Will do, babydoll,” Debbie said to a dead receiver.

              “How’s he doing?” Whitney asked as she set Lorelei in a high chair.

              “I’m trying to get him to come home,” Debbie sighed as she set the cut up peppers in a bowl. She walked over to Lorelei and started feeding her peppers.

              “Are you sure that’s the best? He could have everything in Cali. He already does,” Whitney argued as she sat down around the midsized family table.

              “I’m positive,” Debbie said triumphantly. “He needs to be grounded. He’ll do that here.”

              “What are you so positive about, mother?” Hillary smirked as the front door closed shut. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor until she reached the kitchen.

              “Hill and Josh!” Debbie exclaimed at the three month pregnant belly. “How’s my little cutie patootie?”

              “The kid’s doing fine,” Hillary joked as she side hugged her sister.

              “Now that you’re both here, Michael says hello,” Debbie said as her attention turned back to Lorelei. “And as I was saying before Hillary rudely interrupted me, Michael is contemplating on moving back home.”

              “Really? Sweet!” Hillary exclaimed as she popped peppers in her mouth and made faces at Lorelei.

              “Yes, so if any of you talk to him, please convince him to come home,” Debbie pleaded as she got out of her seat and opened the oven to take out a casserole. She set it on the table and served dinner. Before dessert arrived, there was a knock on the oak front door.

              “I’ll grab it!” Hillary said as she jumped off her seat and ran towards the door.

              “Hey, doll, what’s up?” Hillary asked the girl with thin blond hair and impossibly blue eyes stood before her with a plate of cookies.

              “My name is Alyson Moore. But just call me Aly. Do you live here?” she asked Hillary.

              “No, sorry, sweet cakes. I’m Hillary Madison,” Hillary said while her husband Joshua peeked behind her, “and this is my husband Josh. I’m the daughter of who lives here. MOM, SOMEONE’S AT THE DOOR FOR YOU!”

              “Coming, sweetie!” Debbie yelled from the other room. She sped walked into the front room and smoothed out her magenta shirt.

              “Hello, how may I help you?”

              “I’m Aly Moore, your new neighbor, and I brought these cookies over for you,” Aly smiled as she offered the cookies.

              “Well aren’t you so sweet. How old are you darling?” Debbie mischievously smiled.

              “25, ma’am,” she smiled sweetly.

              “Well it’s nice to meet you, darling. We’ve got to go finish dinner, but I’m sure our paths will cross soon. Bye, bye. Oh! And by the way, my name is Debbie. Debbie Phelps.

Home Is Where the Heart IsWhere stories live. Discover now