Overdue

(Short Fiction)

(Photo by Egor Myznik on Unsplash)

The last time I saw my mother was the day of my college graduation. Like the overbearing mother she was, who wanted me right next to her at all times, she didn’t support my lifelong dream of moving to New York to pursue an art career. I frankly didn’t have the energy to fight with her about it as I had fought with her every single day of my childhood, and the one day that I wanted to be drama-free was anything but.

She somehow managed to keep it together to the ceremony and the lengthy family photo shoot we had afterward, but not long after we had my party to celebrate, she got end-of-the-night drunk only a half hour after the party started.

I had gently tried to coax the completely full drink out of her hands, but she kept stepping away from me and spilling the drink on the floor. I shot daggers at my dad in an attempt to have him step in to help, but before he reached us, I accidentally spilled the drink down her dress.

“You just have to ruin everything for me, don’t you? You ruin my dreams, my plans, you do everything you can to get away from me, you little bitch.” My eyes widened as I took more than a few steps back.

“Mom, stop.” My cheeks burned as I felt everyone stare at me. I wanted to hide, crawl in a hole, and not come out for days, but instead, I kept my gaze on the floor, not able to meet her eyes.

My dad grabbed her arm forcefully, trying to steer her upstairs and away from the party guests, but she resisted and somehow wrestled her way out of his grasp.

“No, I’m not done.” She took a deep breath and steadied herself on the piano beside her before adding, “You and your stupid little art.” She muttered before she grabbed one of the cupcakes on a nearby tray, stole a drink from someone’s hand, and went to one of my pictures on the wall. With a smirk, she smeared the cupcake and tossed the rest of the drink on the canvas. “You know what’ll happen? You’ll get to New York and fail, just like you’ve done at everything else in your life. Before you know it, you’ll come running back here and I’ll have to console you and your failed dream while holding back the ‘I told you so.’”

I gasped, tears brimming in my eyes as everyone stood still, no one daring to move a muscle. The grin on my mother’s face was still prominent as she took in everyone’s horrified reactions, though she didn’t appear to be fazed in the slightest. She then hiccupped before throwing up all over the floor and abruptly ending the party.

I ran upstairs, needing to distance myself from everyone as I slammed the door shut and locked it. My dad, presumably after putting my mom to bed and shoving the guests out of the house, walked up to my door and twisted the knob. He sighed as he put his forehead on the door. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now or anyone for that matter, but just know I’m here for you, okay?”

I stifled a sob that threatened to break through as I quietly zipped the last of my suitcases and duffle bags. I knew this would hurt my father, the abrupt leaving with no goodbye but I needed to leave without her begging me to stay, to try and apologize for her inexcusable actions. I knew she meant all of it and what hurt worse was that she wanted to embarrass me, knock me down a peg. So, what better time to leave than when she was sleeping off her hangover?

I didn’t contact her for years. That night rang in my mind anytime she attempted to call me, although I dodged her calls like the plague. I was thankful that she didn’t show up at my house or gallery, but any time I rounded a corner I was afraid she’d be there.

My dad would visit from time to time after their divorce, which was not too long after that disastrous party, but she never came with him or tried to see me on her own.

That is, until my wedding day. I was adamant about not inviting her, a choice neither my new husband, Danny, nor my dad agreed with but respected regardless. It was about thirty minutes before the ceremony, and I was getting the final touches on my makeup.

She knocked on the door as I was getting ready with my bridesmaids. Though I thought she was Danny and instantly tried to hide in the corner of the room so he wouldn’t see me in my dress. “Danny, you’re not supposed to be here!”

My maid of honor, Sylvie, opened the door and I could instantly feel the tension sweep into the room. “Blaire? It’s not Danny, it’s your mom.” My heart stopped and I stepped out.

She looked the same mostly, minus the few crinkles by her eyes and lines on her cheeks. She wore a navy blue dress and had a death grip on her purse as she stared at me, looking frozen as she took in everyone’s glances.

It was easy for me to shut her out since I hadn’t seen her for years, but now seeing her, all emotions flooded through me. It could’ve been the significance of the day or the fact that I had been missing out on a relationship with her for this long, but tears brimmed my eyes instantly.

I waited for her to say something first. Just anything to break this horrid silence. But her bottom lip quivered as she looked at me up and down, a small smile spreading on her face.

“Can everyone give us a few minutes please?” I asked, my voice cracked.

My mom dropped her purse and crushed me in a tight hug, careful to not mess up my hair or makeup.

“Don’t you start crying, okay? We can’t mess up your beautiful face.”

She then started apologizing, rambling on for minutes without a breath, leading right up to the ceremony. That conversation didn’t patch everything up, not in the slightest. But it patched it enough to make it through the ceremony and reception, which was more than I could’ve asked for.

After that, we quickly developed a routine of simply calling every other week, not needing to do anything more to jeopardize the tainted relationship. We got along fine on our phone calls and the occasional awkward FaceTime, but we didn’t really make any effort to visit each other.

Three years went on by with this routine. My mom seemed to be her usual self for the most part, but I suppose that was hard to judge on a simple phone call. Now, I dreaded having to tell her that I was pregnant. Truthfully, I didn’t know how she’d react. Would she actually be happy with the news about my life for once? Or would she act like I expected her to? I guessed that she’d be less than enthused while I had to act like it didn’t bother me.

But it wasn’t like I could hide this secret any longer. In just a few months I’d be a mother, and well she’d be a grandmother. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

My husband came up and wrapped his arms gently around my stomach. “Called your mom yet?”

I shook my head, and he blew out a disappointed breath. “What was that for?” I spin around, meeting his forest-green eyes.

“You do everything you can to avoid your mother.”

“I do not.” I replied, not appreciating the accusation.

He scoffed. “Don’t deny it, Blaire. Remind me again, how long did it take you to tell her that you sold out your first gallery?” I opened my mouth but then recounted that it took me nearly six months.

“Ugh fine, I guess you’re right.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He said, a hint of humor underlying his tone.

“Don’t push it.” I cracked a smile. “You know what? I’m going to call her right now.”

His eyebrows raised and I jumped onto the bed next to him. I dialed her number and waited for her to pick up, which she did after several rings.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hey, mom…” I trailed off, nervous about what her reaction would be. Anytime I hit a big milestone in my life, I was met with a lackluster response, and I felt like this time wasn’t going to be any different.

“I have some news to tell you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that? Sold out your gallery again?” She ventured a guess.

I gulped before blurting it out. “I’m pregnant.” I paused, waiting for the nonexistent screaming to begin.

As I predicted, the line went quiet. My husband narrowed his eyes. “Mom?”

“Sorry, I’m here. That’s great, congratulations.” She replied in the most monotonous voice I had heard from her. It matched the tone she replied in when I told her about my college and New York dreams.

Anger settled deep in my bones. She couldn’t even feign excitement for me, she always used to talk about being a grandparent, especially after I married Danny. And now it sounded like she couldn’t care less. “Well anyway that’s all I wanted to say, I guess. Danny and I plan on heading your way in about a month or two.”

“You’ve been saying that for years now.”

I hung up at that, not wanting to get into a screaming match with her at this hour.

“What the hell was that?” Danny replied after a few moments of silence, while he was shocked at her actions, I wasn’t in the slightest. “Now you see why I was putting it off.”

Danny shook his head with bewilderment. “Maybe she was just shocked? We did tell her we weren’t too sure about kids.” Danny justified and I shrugged it off and urged him to do so too.