Mom, Come Home

". . . Amy said you're seeing that guy with the tattoos?" Mom's voice sounds like it's coming at me from the other side of a very long, very narrow tunnel. She sounds as far away as she feels.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and try not to sigh audibly, roll my shoulders back and force my voice to lightness. "I've been seeing Aiden since before . . ." I trail off. I don't want to say the words "you left" because whenever I've mentioned that to Mom she gets defensive and prickly.

I never thought I could miss her, but this is teaching me that even a crappy mom is better than no mom at all. I wonder if she realizes that? I wonder if it's why she gets snappy when we bring it up?

There's an awkward pause before she responds. "Well, I didn't think it was official," she says stiffly.

"It wasn't. We've just . . . we're hanging out a lot. You know how it is."

"I hope you're using protection."

"Mom!"