My heart dropped and my body tensed. Mom called Ramona!? How did she even get a hold of her number? As far as I knew, Mom hated Ramona, or at least hated anything to do with Lizzie’s side of the family. Was she trying to manipulate Ramona? Turn Ramona against my side as well and cut me off at the source? What could possibly drive her to go to Lizzie’s family after her vehement disapproval of them just a few weeks ago? “I’m so sorry about that!” I quickly said. “I never thought she’d go as far as to involve you…”

                “It’s really alright, I’m not upset that she called,” she replied sweetly. “I’m honestly grateful that she was open to a conversation after what happened at the hospital.”

                Open to a conversation… I thought bitterly to myself; The irony being that her inability to have a proper conversation with me was the entire reason we were fighting. I was having a hard time believing Mom would have a productive conversation with anyone after the fight we had, let alone someone she didn’t like. “Still, it’s not okay for her to try and manipulate you when you’re like this. Or even to try and manipulate you at all. That’s so scummy…”

                “That’s not what she was doing at all,” Ramona insisted. “She merely called to ask if I’d been in contact with you, and to let you know she called and wants to talk.”

                I sighed, frustrated. So, she was just using Ramona as an avenue to get to me. “Still, I don’t like that she’s forcing our issues onto others. I told her I’m not talking to her until graduation. That’s it.”

                “So, you are planning on talking to her again then?” she clarified.

                “Yeah,” I said begrudgingly. “It’s not like I want to cut her out of my life, but… honestly, after the way she treated me that week, I don’t think I can take it much longer. We need a break from each other, and maybe then she’ll learn that I’m not her personal puppet.”

                Ramona didn’t say anything at first, and for a second, I wondered if our connection had broken. “Does… does she know that she’s invited to graduation at all?” she suddenly asked.

                “Hmm?” I mumbled confusedly. “Yeah, she should? I mean, it’s one of the last things I said before I left…”

                “Maybe you should remind her then,” she said. “From what she was telling me and from her tone of voice when we spoke, it seemed like she was under the impression that you’d never speak to her again.”

                “Why would she—" I began frustratingly, but I suppressed my thought with a breath. “Maybe I’ll shoot a text to my dad then, he’ll remind her.”

                Again, Ramona paused for a bit. “Why don’t you text her directly? I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”

                “Because I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing her endless bitching reached me.”

                “I wouldn’t call it bitching…” she whispered shakily. “I’d just call it incredibly concerned.”

                My brows furrowed, though she couldn’t see it. “You’re not taking her side, are you?”

                It was Ramona’s turn to sigh. “I’m not taking anyone’s side here. But… as a mother, I have some thoughts. I’m just… I can’t help but think about Lucille’s side of things. It sounds like to me that she genuinely feels she’s lost you forever. That you’ve completely cut her out of your life and that there’s nothing she can do to repair it.”

                “Well, who’s fault is that!?” I blurted angrily. “She’s the one who insisted on controlling my life, trying to force me to expose my abilities to doctors and even—"

                “I know you’re angry, but I’m not finished,” Ramona cut in. “I’m not advocating for the way she’s been treating you. It sounds like it’s been very closed-minded, and she hasn’t been being respectful of your perspective at all. I don’t even think a break from each other is a bad thing. I’m just worried that… well, the way the separation happened left things…  unclear in her mind. When you left, I got the sense that she was confused, overwhelmed, and suddenly with a very angry son. And I don’t think those feelings have gone away ever since. I don’t think she fully understood what was going on as you left. All she saw was that she’d just lost her son, perhaps permanently. You’re her kid, her first baby. I think she believes you’re never coming back and because she’s not getting any responses from her calls, she’s only being further reassured that she’s right. She thinks that she’s the reason she lost a son. And trust me, there’s no worse feeling in the world than a mother thinking that she’s the reason she lost her child. Her baby. I know that all too well.”

                That shut me right up. Of course, Ramona would empathize with anyone who’d felt like they lost something, especially a mother like her.

                “When I lost my daughter, I blamed myself. I was the one with the genetic heart condition, and my baby lost her life because of it. Doyle blamed me too. And to this day, even with the endless amount of therapy, convincing me that I wasn’t the one at fault, that there was nothing I could’ve done… I’m still haunted. I’m still guilt-ridden. I still feel like I’m the reason that a soul is not in this world, because I decided to be selfish and have a kid with my genetics. It’s the worst feeling in the world, potentially life-scarring. And with Lucille, well… I’m concerned about whether or not this kind of paranoia could leave a scar on her as well.”

                A horrible chill went up my spine as I imagined a life without Mom. Truth be told, I couldn’t stand the thought. She was always my go-to person for anything I ever needed in life. Even though I faced the possibility of us not working out, I knew that at the bottom of my heart I wanted us to be on good terms. The entire reason I wanted to talk to her at graduation was to make a last-ditch effort to save what I felt was a toxic relationship. I wanted the mother that I had in my childhood who supported my dreams, who loved the fact that I wanted to be a teacher, who’d teach me all about the intricacies of life.

                But things were more complicated than that now, especially with what happened that vacation week. I’d made my stance on my new powers and abilities; So long as I could convince myself I was capable of holding them back and that I was in full control, I’d keep them, no questions asked. It was a part of a promise I’d made to Mom on my way out, that I wouldn’t use my powers even once until after I was done with school. Should I fail, I’d consider getting my powers removed somehow. As complicated as it made things, it was my decision, no one else’s. I understood that Mom was concerned about my safety, and the safety of our family, but she seemed absolutely unwilling to even entertain the idea of a discussion. It was her way, and that was it. And once she made that decision, it was time for her to control every other aspect of my life, including my studies, my relationship, and any other aspect of my life she didn’t approve.

                She’d managed to go backwards. And that’s why I needed my space. She needed to know that I wasn’t hers to control.

                “Beck, all she wants to do is talk. Nothing more, nothing less. She just wants to know you’re ok, that you’re safe.”

                I sighed. I wanted to agree, but I just couldn’t at the moment. “I don’t know, Ramona. It’s a lot to think about—"

                Midway through my reply, I had a knock on my bedroom door. The door props open and my roommate pokes his head in. “Hey Beck? There’s a girl at the front door asking for you?”

                I blinked in confusion. A girl was at my front door? Judging from his baffled expression, it certainly wasn’t Lizzie, who’d gone back home anyways. “You don’t recognize her?”

                “No, I have no idea,” he replied. “So you aren’t expecting anyone?”

                We had a bit of a confused stare down before I shrugged. I put the phone back to my ear. “Hey, Ramona, I’ve gotta go.”

                “Alright,” she said. “Just… just think about what I said.”

                I rubbed my forehead. “I will, I promise. Wish you the best of luck.” And with a click, we were disconnected.