Us Versus the World

Reconciliation

When I walked offstage, I did not want to be patted on the back by people I did not know. I didn't want a drink of water. I didn't want to be ushered back into the little waiting room with all the weird poets. I didn't even want Murphy. I wanted to talk to my mom.

Fortunately, Murphy took me to the bathroom. She smoothed my hair back, and handed me a tissue because even though I don't remember starting to cry, I must have because there were tears down my cheeks and my nose was running.

"Are they happy tears or sad tears?"

"I think they're a little bit of both. Can I talk to my mom?"

She handed me the phone, and I immediately called back. My mother, I knew, would be expecting my call back, but she let it ring out. I called again. And again. On the fourth time, my mother picked up.

"Devon." Her voice was still shaking, but it was harder to tell if it was from anger or something else.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you."

"Devon, I was worried. Why would you run off like that?"

"Mom, I don't want to be a data analyst. I want to be a poet. I know that it's not a sensible job or a safe job or a contributing job. I know that you probably think I'm the height of frivolity and stupidity right now, but right now I'm happy for the first time since I stopped doing poetry to focus on being a data analyst."

There was a silence so long on the other end of the phone that I thought my mother had set it down and walked away. But eventually, she spoke. "I don't want you to be a poet. I really don't want you to be a poet."

"Mom-"

"Let me finish." She took a deep breath, and continued. "But it matters less what I want for you, and more what you want for you. Because, Devon, you know what I want for you is happiness, right? Maybe I don't say it enough. But what I want for you is happiness. And I want to be a part of your happiness, so if poetry is a part of it too, then I suppose I can learn to like it. Kind of how I grew almost fond of youth theatre."

"Mom. Thank you. I'm coming home now, I'll see you in a couple of days."

My mother cleared her throat, regaining her composure. "Good. In that amount of time I might be able to think of a punishment that matches the magnitude of your deeds, young lady. You put me and your father through hell this last week, and I'm going to make sure you get your dues."

"I'll see you in a couple of days, mom."

She hummed in response, apparently still thinking of exactly how I was going to pay.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."