11 Back of My Mind

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My breathing becomes deeper and ragged as I dial my mother’s number. It always takes a few seconds to connect an international call, but once it’s connected there is no lag or anything.

“Moore-Hill residence,” chirps a happy voice from the line.

I can’t stop the smile that spreads on my face, “Good morning, Angela. You sound lovely.”

“Damian!” she shouts with excitement. I have to hold the phone a little away from my face as to not rupture an eardrum. “How are you doing?”

“I’m just fine. How are you, shrimp?”

Angie is seven years younger than me, but I’ve always adored her. She’s the best little sister in the world. Usually when there is such a big gap there is distance in the relationship, but not with us. I love the little shrimp.

“Ugh, don’t call me that. I’m almost 16; I’m not a kid anymore,” she lectures me.

I turn to lie on my side facing Toph who’s now lying flat on his back above the covers with his arms behind his head. I tuck the arm that’s not holding the phone under my head, “You’ll always be a kid to me.”

“What do you want, Damian?” I know she means it threateningly, but I can hear the contentment in her voice. She loves when she gets to talk to me.

“Pushy,” I chuckle. “I would like to talk to mum. Is she around?”

“She cooking up breakfast,” my sister tells me. “I’ll go grab her, hang on.”

My mum still has a corded phone in her lounge.

After a few minutes, my favorite voice comes over the line, “Damian? Is that you?”

“Hey mum!” I feel like a kid every time we talk. She’s just so motherly.

“I’ve been trying to call you for the last two day. Where have you been, Ducky?” she calls me by my childhood nickname, still.

Looking up into my best friend’s blue eyes, I see that he’s staring at me, “I’ve been with Topher.”

“Oh my, how is he doing?” she asks politely.

I chuckle, “He’s good. He sends his best.”

“Hello, Mrs. Moore-Hill,” Toph shouts from next to me.

She giggles and answers him, “Hello, Christopher.”

Moving the phone from my face a little, I address my best friend, “She says ‘hello Christopher’. And she giggled.”

“I like the sound of that,” he whispers loud enough for me to hear, but not my mother.

“Hang on, mum,” I tell her and cover the mouth piece before looking back at Toph. “You like my mother’s giggle? That’s just wrong.”

“No, weirdo,” he laughs. “I like how you say Christopher.”

“Oh,” I give him a questioning look as I pull the phone back to my face. Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to the woman who gave birth to me, “Sorry, Christopher had to ask me a question.” I smile knowingly at his pleased look.

“It’s very late there. You’re still at his flat?” she asks me.

“Yea, we have some stuff to take care of for the movie tomorrow,” I lie to her.  “It was easier to stay on his sofa and leave in the morning together.”

“That’s nice, Ducky. I’ve been worried about you,” she can make me feel guilty faster than anyone.

Swallowing and taking a deep breath, I start to turn so I’m not looking at my new husband. He stops me before I get all the way over and pulls me to him.

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