Hello, Goodbye

Chapter Seven

Crap. That was the only word that came to mind as Emersyn took the phone out of Kiel's hand and held it up to her own ear. "Hi, Makayla," she said, giving Zeke an apologetic look as she stepped out of the room. After spending so many years away from her mom, it just felt weird to call her anything but her actual name. And she'd never seemed to care before. "What's... what's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Emersyn Collins," her mother growled into the phone, and Emersyn closed her eyes, wishing that Kiel could be like everyone else in the world and not answer his phone to numbers he didn't recognize. "I have been scared to death. I woke up and you were gone, and I've been trying to reach you for days. I thought you were hurt or dead. What the hell?"

She shook her head, and then remembering that her mom couldn't see her, she said, "Nope. Not hurt. Not dead. Just not there." She took a breath to steady herself before adding on, "And to be honest, I didn't think we had anything more to say to each other. Didn't we say all we had to say the other night?"

"That conversation was not over, and you know it," her mother said in a whispered growl that made her think she must've been at work. Emersyn shook her head. Even now, she couldn't get her mom's attention. It was infuriating.

"It was over to me," she said. "Why would you call Kiel? How did you even get his number?"

"I've always had his number," she replied, as if this was obvious. As if Emersyn was stupid for even asking. She felt the rage bubble collect more air in her chest. If she'd always had Kiel's number, then why hadn't she called sooner? Like all those years she was with her grandparents, waiting at the window for her mother, the only parent she had left, to come walking up the path to the house. Why hadn't she ever called to wish her a happy birthday or congratulate her for winning first prize at the art show for five years straight?

The answer was simple, and it was in the journal sitting snugly under her pillow on her bed. She'd never really wanted to be a mom. And she'd definitely never acted like one.

"Oh good," she said, the bitterness projecting out of her mouth like vomit, "I'm glad you called now."

"What is that supposed to mean, Emersyn?"

"Nothing," she replied, the bubble getting dangerously close to bursting. "Just that if you had his number this whole time, why didn't you ever call before? Like, when grandpa died when I was eleven? Or when grandma got diagnosed with dementia when I was a teenager? Why do you care now?"

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment Emersyn thought her mom had hung up. But then she heard her voice say, a little louder than the whisper she was using before, "How dare you? You don't understand."

POP. It had burst. "No, YOU don't understand," Emersyn yelled, feeling the rage warm her entire body from head-to-toe. "You have NEVER understood anything. You've never understood how to pick up a damn phone and make a simple call. You've never understood what art means to this family. My real family. And you've never understood ME. AT ALL." There was a breath of air on the other end, but Emersyn had had enough. "You never wanted to be a mother, right? Well, now you got your wish. Do NOT call me again, Makayla! We are DONE! Do you hear me? DONE!"

She wished phones could be like they were in old movies. That she could slam the receiver into the base. She needed the satisfaction of making a loud noise. And in this moment, she finally understood why people punched inanimate objects when they were furious. She stormed back into the living room, where Kiel and Zeke were both sitting on the couch. Zeke was averting his eyes from her awkwardly, and Kiel was staring at her, as if she was a piece of fruit at the grocery store that had fallen to the floor. Checking for visible bruises. Scars in places where he could see. But none of her scars were where he, or anyone else, could see them. They were all inside of her, and they reopened every time she talked to that woman who called herself her mother. But not anymore. She was done.