Julia
Turning on my phone, I kicked off my boots, wiggling my sock-covered toes in the soft, warm rug near my bed. Much as Van's phone had done, my phone vibrated and dinged with numerous incoming text messages and voicemails.
I pulled my sweater over my head and pulled off the blue jeans, leaving me covered in my camisole and soft pants as I picked up my phone, sat upon the edge of the bed, and sighed. Lying back, I hit the first voicemail message from my mother. The time stamp was yesterday afternoon.
“Julia, not returning our messages is childish. How can we be comfortable with your decisions when you're not replying?"
Listening to her dismissive and demeaning tone had the opposite effect of what her words intended. Closing my eyes, I let her message settle over me. As it did, I s
