𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 → 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬 (𝐢𝐢)

thirty-two [t]

friday,
june 14th, 2020

TRINITY HAYSON

"Ma!" I excitedly squeal, engulfing her in the most loving hug we've ever shared. "I've missed you!"

My mother has come to New York to visit me for the weekend. During the week, we've been texting more than usual and I've told her I miss her more than anything. It's true. I've missed her tons. Ollie and Dad couldn't visit because they've scheduled a 'boy's camping trip' with Chandler. The three of them used to always go on those once a year. Apparently the tradition hasn't faltered.

Over the past few days, work has really been stressing me out. I'm not sure why. I'm really proud of my profession and I'm glad that I get to do what I love, which is writing. There's just an underlying thought in my mind about how I can't finish my novel fast enough. I'm impatient at this stage, wanting nothing more than for my own, original work to be out there in the world for people to enjoy. Well, hopefully enjoy. According to my planning, I've got about ten chapters to write before it's final drafted and finalised. Then, it's good to go.

Publishing a novel may hopefully open new doors for me and provide me with different opportunities. I'm happy with my career, I am, but there's just a piece of me that feels like there's something missing. I can't put my finger on it. I understand how fortunate I am to be waking up five days a week and looking forward to getting knuckles deep in my journalism and editing, but lately, the novelty has slowly been wearing off, as much as I don't want it to.

"My baby!" Ma greets me excitedly, squeezing me tight, "How are you lovey?"

"Come in," I chuckle, opening my apartment door for her to step inside.

She wheels in her cabin suitcase and looks around with a familiar grin on her face. She's been here a couple times before, but flights to New York from Dublin — where we've always flown from — can be expensive. Plus, it's a long way for her. She's not fond of flying, but I know she'll always fly out to me if I have any sort of problem.

At the moment, I can't decide whether questioning my career is a problem or not.

"Tea?" I ask, filling up the kettle and already knowing her answer.

"Do you know me at all?" my mother jokes, "Of course I want tea!"

I laugh at her as she settles down on the couch, "How was your flight?"

We make small talk about her flight and the boys back home as I pour us our hot drinks. I bin the teabags when they're ready and join my Ma on the couch. I hand her a large mug and she thanks me. We take sips, giggling at nothing like we always used to do.

"Tell me Trin," she says, "How's that Shawn of yours?"

I feel myself flush. Ma knows everything about Shawn and I. The breakup, the reason for the breakup, the interview, the cab ride, the romantic reading of his letter. She knows the ins and outs, I always update her whenever she calls. The one thing she doesn't know about is the fact that Shawn may be a father soon.

Two years ago, I warned her not to tell Dad about Shawn cheating on me. I didn't want the relentless questions and the threats to beat him up. To this day, I'm more than confident that she kept her mouth shut. And that's saying something, because her and my Dad always gossip and tell each other everything.

"Um... he's good. He's playing a festival in Budapest tomorrow," I reply, my cheeks still ablaze with a blush and a smile on my face at the thought of the curled beauty.

After Shawn and I's breakup, when he started to soar in the music industry, Ma would call me up and shit talk him with me. She'd let me rant about how perfect he looked in his mature photoshoots, but then she'd snap me back to reality and call him a prick. Mothers work wonders when it comes to heartbreak.