And that same hope was dashed just as quickly as he looked at the smartphone’s display and saw the face of his blonde-haired mother smiling at him in a picture taken on their boat last summer along with the words, “Mom calling.”
He debated whether he should take the call. He didn’t really feel like talking to anyone right now. But if he didn’t answer, she would just continue to call. She was a mom; it was her duty.
And besides, maybe he did want to talk to her.
He pressed “accept” and connected to his tormentor, savior, nurturer, and, until very recently, his chief confidant. How pathetic was that? “Hi, Mom.”
“Tell me again why you didn’t come home for the three-day weekend? The Simpson’s Chloe just got in. I saw her coming home just a few minutes ago. You should be here, honey. What was it again that made you stay on that empty campus this weekend?”