9

                Two days before graduation, I got a call from Mom. And for once, I answered it. I knew that she might take the opportunity to jump on me for my silent treatment, but I was steadfast in keeping things business focused. I took a deep breath, my heart beating, and answered. “Hey Mom.”

                I heard a shocked gasp. “B-Beck? I-Is that really you?”

                I suppressed a sigh. “Yes, it’s me.” While I forced myself to stay diligent, my mind was already trying to assess the damage from her voice alone. This was the first time I’d heard it in over a month. In the one second she’d spoken, I’d already heard plenty. Her voice was croaking, like it was sore. She sounded like she’d aged years. My heart tugged. I knew she’d been distraught and now I was facing the aftermath firsthand.

                “Beck I… I can’t believe it’s really you! I… I’ve been so worried I… I…” she stumbled through her sentences through bouts of tears.

                I waited patiently for her to recover, but she seemed to be so deep into hysteria that she’d completely forgotten why she’d called. “I know. I’m—” I was about to say, “I’m sorry”, but then I stopped myself. As much as it hurt me to withhold anything from her, I needed to stay focused on being in control. “I’m glad you called,” I answered instead. “Are you calling about graduation?”

                “O-Oh, yes, that’s what—oh I can’t do this right now, could you g-give me a few moments?” she said, her voice incredibly scratchy.

                “Sure…”

                For the next minute and a half, she did nothing but sob into the phone’s microphone, repeating phrases like “You had me worried sick!” and “How could you do that to me!?” and “I didn’t think I’d ever hear your voice again…” The only thing I could do was sit patiently and wait for her to let it all out of her system. I gave her small reassurances like “I know”, and “I’m still here”. I never answered her questions, I just let her vent. When it seemed like she calmed down a bit, I cleared my throat. “So… are you still coming to graduation?”

                “Yes, yes of course!” she exclaimed, a bit louder than she’d meant to. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

                “Thanks,” I replied as calmly as I could, not realizing how badly I was starting to feel. “Where are you seated? I want to make sure I can see you guys.”

                “O-Oh, uh, I don’t remember… Maybe I’ll… I’ll send you the picture of our tickets…”

                “That would be great. Are you going to be here tomorrow or the day of?” I asked. It wasn’t lost on me that the more I talked, the more she seemed to calm down.

                “T-tomorrow. We have a hotel ready. I-Is it alright if we stop by for a visit beforehand?” she asked, voice full of desperate optimism.

                It pained my heart to hear her so hopeful. For the millionth time, regret for my abrasive and harsh silent treatment of her seeped in. And again, I forced myself to shut it down. “I-I don’t think so, I have some things planned. Lizzie will be here and… yeah. I’ll see you after though!” I replied as encouragingly as I could manage.

                “O-Oh…” she muttered.

                There was far too long of an awkward pause to really drive in the guilt. I forced myself to break it. “Alright, then I’ll see you soon.”

                “Wait, Beck, please don’t hang up!” she suddenly pleaded. “I miss you so much, I’ve missed the sound of your voice! Please stay on the line!”

                I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “I promise, we’ll talk soon. Seriously. I love you too, and I mean it. Okay? I have to go.”

                “Sweetie, please don’t hang up!”

                “Bye Mom, I’ll talk to you soon.”

                “Beck—”

                I hung up and immediately threw the phone onto my bed so hard that it bounced off onto the floor. I followed suit, falling belly first onto my bed, burying my head in the covers, and trying not to wallow in self-deprecation.

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