You Feel Like Home

thirteen

millie | ryder

ring ring ring

“i’m doing it.”

“are you sure about this?”

“definitely. maybe. okay, maybe not. stop doing that.”

“stop doing what?”

“you know what you’re doing.”

“i’m not doing anything, love.”

“you’re making me doubt myself. stop.”

“i’m not. you are. if this is what you really want to do, go for it.”

“i think i’m scared.”

“it’ll be okay. i promise, love.”

“why do you still call me that? i’ve told you my name.”

“term of endearment. my mom used to call me that. it always made me feel better. so, i guess i just took it on.”

“why me?”

“when you called the first time, it sounded like you really needed someone to care.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“what happened to your mom?”

“what?”

“you said she used to call you that.”

“right. she, uh, she died. when i was twelve. my dad was driving drunk and he passed a few red lights. didn’t see the car coming and it hit the passenger side.”

“ryder—”

“she died on impact, so no pain at all.”

“ry, i—”

“please don’t say you’re sorry, love. it just makes me feel worse.”

“i was going to say i understand.”

“what?”

“i live with my aunt and sava because my mom overdosed on heroin when I was ten. i was in foster care for a while until they took me in.”

“oh.”

“well, i have to go. i’ll call you later, okay?”

“alright, love. good luck.”