Chapter 54
Chapter
It’s so surreal, waking up next to Greg on Sunday morning. For a few seconds, pressing closer to him, his arms around me, I feel weightless, like nothing in the world could be wrong.
It’s just a few seconds, though. Because then I remember.
I’ll be sued I’ll be penniless I’ll lose the house!
What if Anna doesn’t have enough for the story!
What if I lose my job and then!
I lose access to Slack!
I scramble out of bed, and Greg startles awake. “What? What’s happening?”
“Mom is still trapped,” I say, throwing open drawers, pulling on clothes. “I need to get her out of there, before I lose access to the company systems and can’t talk to her anymore.”
I turn and lean against my dresser. “I’m going to try your plan. Of being honest with her. Really, really honest.”
“Okay.” He nods. “How can I help?”
“Can you call your mom?”
Tita Wendy sets up her orb in the kitchen, smoothing out the navy blue cloth she brought from her shop over the table.
She straightens her spine and swirls her hands around the crystal ball, humming low in her throat, and it starts to glow again.
My phone is open in front of her, connected to Slack.
Tita Wendy’s head bobs, and her eyes fly open again. “Try now,” she says.
Whenever I tried to voice call Mom over Slack, aside from that last time in Tita Wendy’s shop, all I heard was a horrible screeching noise. But this time the call connects, and Mom’s voice comes through, on speakerphone.
“Ruby? Are you all right? How was the wedding? I didn’t hear from you!”
Tita Wendy arches a brow at that, but she stays quiet.
“Mom!” I’m already blinking back tears at the sound of her voice. “Mom, I called because…I have to be honest with you about some things.”
“All right, fine! No need to be dramatic!” Mom shouts, the sound of swirling wind in the background. “What is it?”
“I didn’t get married!” I’m trembling, and Greg gives my right hand a quick squeeze. “I couldn’t go through with it.”
“Why not?” But Mom sounds more surprised than upset.
It feels like there’s not much time, so I have to explain it the simplest way I can: “I didn’t love him.”
“Then good, I’m glad you didn’t go through with it! That would have been awful! Life is hard enough.”
I want to laugh and cry at the same time, but I steady myself and push past the tightness in my chest. “Mom, I’m not sure if you remember, but you died four months ago, and you’ve been haunting the TKCORP Slack, and I’ve been trying to find a way to free you.
I tried a bunch of things to narrow down what it could be.
I tried fixing the things that might be making you stay here—because you were disappointed in me, maybe. But I couldn’t figure it out.”
“I wasn’t—” Mom protests.
“I know you were, Mom! It’s okay! Let me finish.
I keep thinking about that last conversation we had and wondering if—if maybe you’re holding on because you feel like things aren’t resolved between us, somehow.
Because you’re worried about me. And—” Deep breath in, deep breath out.
I glance at Tita Wendy, and she nods at me to keep going.
“And I wanted to tell you I’m grateful. For how hard you worked to raise me. For everything you sacrificed. And—”
“Ruby,” Mom says sadly, over the increasing background noise.
“And I have a lot of good memories of you!” I need to keep going or I’ll lose my nerve.
“Maybe you don’t know that, but—especially right after Dad left, and how we’d do everything together.
Watching movies, eating ice cream, staying up late.
And how we’d relive that as I got older, every time we had a movie night, and we’d pop popcorn and you’d ask me for all the gossip about the boys at school.
Even though…I wasn’t really honest then, and there was only one boy on my mind. ”
I squeeze Greg’s hand a couple times, a quick pulse. Tita Wendy stares up at the ceiling, like she’s trying not to notice, but I think I catch a little smirk.
Mom’s quiet, and there’s just some crackling on the other end of the line.
“I still think about those times we spent together, constantly,” I press on.
“And—and even though I’ve been struggling—you taught me a lot of good things.
The grit I learned from you—I’ll figure out how to use it for something good one day.
You gave me all the tools, and—what’s going on right now is my own issue, and—” I’m choking up, struggling against the lump in my throat.
“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you more. In the months near the end. ”
There’s an agonizing silence, filled with faint hissing.
“So you want to get rid of me, I see how it is!” Mom’s voice comes through suddenly, crystal clear. She makes an annoyed sound. “You’re saying I was a good example? I worked myself to death!”
She’s laughing now, a sound I missed. And I remember that about her, the way she could laugh at the darkest things when she was alive, turn everything into a joke.
I’m laughing too. Oh God, what is happening?
“Mom—” My voice breaks, dropping to a raspy whisper. “I don’t want you to be trapped at work forever. No one deserves that.”
“Ruby, listen to me,” she says. “I have regrets too. I think maybe I should have listened more. To how you felt.”
My hands are shaking, my chest is shaking. A tear rolls down my cheek.
“And I’m sorry I overreacted about Greg. He has a good heart, I can see that now.”
Greg is examining the ceiling like he’s found a particularly fascinating stain up there. But Tita Wendy is smiling.
“I made a mistake,” Mom goes on. “I wasn’t seeing him clearly before. I thought I was saving you some heartache. Anticipating my life replaying before my eyes, instead of seeing a totally different life—yours—unfolding in front of me.”
“Then…Mom, what is keeping you from moving on?” My voice quavers, and the sound of wind picks up in the background.
“If anything…” Mom sighs, exasperated, and clicks her tongue.
“Ruby, my big regret is working too hard for a company that didn’t know me from a can of paint.
And being so tired and driven by fear—so focused on this idea of success.
But it turned out to be a mirage that I would never reach.
I regret…” More static now, the sound of her voice breaking up.
“I regret that it made me miss some things. I regret being so critical, so controlling. I regret that it kept me from really seeing you. I’m glad we had this chance. To connect without all that.”
I’m a mess of tears, and Tita Wendy reaches over and rubs my back.
“Not having to work,” Mom adds, “has certainly given me time to think.”
“So when—” I choke back a sob. “When will you be able to let go, Mom?”
“Soon, probably.” The static on the line grows, almost swallowing her voice completely. “When I know you’re okay.”
The call drops. Tita Wendy rubs her forehead, exhausted. The stillness hangs over the three of us as we sit around the wooden kitchen table, afternoon light streaming in through the windows.
And then the doorbell rings. With a sinking feeling, I push out of my chair and stand.
“No, what if it’s—” Greg puts a hand on my shoulder to keep me in my seat, but I shake my head.
“I don’t think I can outrun it by pretending not to be home.”
I open the door, blinking in the bright sun.
“Ruby Ocampo?” There’s a man wearing a navy polo and jeans with a belt. Lawyer-off-duty, or so I imagine.
“Yes?”
“You’re being served.” He hands me a large manila envelope, and I take it with one shaking hand. “Breach of contract.”
I’ve already pre-wallowed in despair enough by this point that my perennial anxiety about being polite kicks in. I give the guy a tight smile.
“Well! First time getting one of these. Do I tip you, or…?”
He laughs and turns to leave. “You take care now.”