Mom is desperate for information about you that no one is willing to give

March 24, 2011

“Lauren, please, I know she talks to you. Do you know what’s going on with her?”

I freeze outside the kitchen door where I was about to announce my arrival home from swim practice. There’s a brief silence. I hear my mom clicking her nails on the table.

“How can you say it’s not your place to tell? It is too!”

We’ve always joked that my mom will always be twelve at heart, but hearing her argue with Lauren like this just takes the joke to a whole new level.

“Lauren, I’m worried. I just want to know what’s going on.”

I hold my breath.

A week ago

My phone lights up and a second later my blaring trumpet ringtone echoes throughout our empty house. I turn my head, looking at the caller i.d.

Lauren.

She’s honestly been such a blessing throughout all of this. She’s the only one that has gotten the truth and nothing but the truth from me. She even volunteered to come home for this semester and help ease tensions at home. I couldn’t do that to her though.

Sighing, I silence my phone and send Lauren to voicemail. I know that I can talk to her. I know that she loves me.

But right now I’ve got nothing but bad news to tell her. Mom and I had another fight. I haven’t been to church in months because I don’t—I can’t—belong there. I’m steadily losing my straight A record. You and I, whether you’re in a good mood or not, have been doing things I promised Lauren I would stop.

So I just can’t pick up the phone right now. I just can’t.

There is a very long silence and then Mom comes through, her voice thick with tears.

“I don’t know what to think anymore, Lauren!”

I bite my lip and turn away from the door, thanking—well, God? That’s a funny thing for me to say with the way things have been going lately. Anyway, I’m beyond relieved that what little I’ve told Lauren, she can keep to herself. My phone itches in my pocket, and even though I don’t reach for it now, it’s nice to know I have options.