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I distract myself over the weekend by binge-watching TV, cleaning the apartment from top to bottom, taking four CrossFit classes at the gym, and teaching myself how to make pasta from scratch. The resulting linguini noodles taste like glue, so I throw them out and order takeaway from a Thai food place. Sunday night, my mother calls. “Hi, honey. It’s me. Mom.” She has to add that last part because when I picked up the phone and heard her voice, I was so surprised, I was speechless. She never calls me. Never. I’m always the one to call and check on her, and then only rarely because it’s so damn depressing. “Hi, Mom. Is everything okay?” Her laugh is small and nervous. “Yeah, I think so.” I’m instantly on guard. “You think so? What does that mean? Did Bob do something? Are you hurt?”
- Writer
