Chapter 7
FISHER
After the weekend spent with everyone at Noah’s house when I open the door to my condo the silent and stale air inside has me sighing.
I wish I had a dog or a cat or fuck even a fish—some sort of sign of life, but there’s no point in having a pet when I travel for around eleven months out of the year.
Locking up behind me, I turn the lights on as I go.
I hung out at Noah’s until around six, ditching after dinner so I didn’t have to spend the meal alone.
For someone who’s always surrounded by people I’m pretty fucking lonely.
My phone rings just as I pick up the remote to turn the TV on for background noise.
MOM fills the screen with a selfie of my mom and me the last time we got together earlier in the year at the Miami Open when she came to visit.
It’s not lost on me that I should be the one visiting her, especially now that she’s having trouble getting around, but she’s never made me feel bad for my job keeping me away.
Neither has my dad. They’re both great people, with a relationship I’ve always hoped to replicate and thought I had with Ebba.
I’ve always wanted to find someone who’s my best friend—that I can laugh and joke and just enjoy spending time with but also have more.
I slide the button across the call screen and bring the phone to my ear. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, I just wanted to check on you. I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the strands. “Sorry about that. Friends were in town and I got distracted.”
“Oh, that’s exciting. Who was it?”
“Elias, his girlfriend, and his sister—Sabrina wanted the girls to be there for her final fitting.”
“Well, that sounds like a nice weekend. Do you think you’ll be able to make it over to visit before you head to Australia?”
I scrub my hand over the back of my head. I’m glad she ignores, or doesn’t notice, my mention of Ebba. My parents were the only people who knew about us. My mom hasn’t been shy over the years in her request for me to fix things.
There won’t be much free time after the wedding before we leave, but I can’t say no to my mom. “Yeah, I’ll come over soon.”
“Oh, that’ll be wonderful.” The pure joy in her voice tells me I’ve made the right decision. “Once you know a day, let me know and I’ll make your favorite lasagna.”
I perk up. “The mushroom one? With the béchamel sauce?”
She laughs. “That is your favorite.”
I groan, already hungry at the prospect. She doesn’t make it often anymore, and she’s given me the recipe, but I can never seem to replicate it exactly the same.
“And,” she drawls in her slight southern twang. My mom is originally a northerner from Michigan, but she’s lived in Texas long enough now that she’s developed her own unique accent. “If there’s anyone you’re seeing, feel free to bring them.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, pacing the length of my kitchen. “Mom.”
“I know, I know,” she sing-songs. “I’m just saying. You haven’t brought a girl home in a long time.”
“Jeez, Mom.”
“At this point I think you’re never going to get married or have kids. And I mean, that’s okay if that’s not something you want, but you used to talk about it and—”
I don’t hear the rest of what she says because I’m too fixated on the kids part. After having seen Ebba this weekend, my mom’s casual statement feels like a stab to the heart. I should be a dad already.
When I finally tune back into what she’s saying, she says, “Anyway, I just want you to be happy. That’s all.”
“I am happy,” I sigh.
“Well, that’s good,” she says, but her tone tells me she doesn’t believe me. “I’ll let you go. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
I hang up and lay my phone on the counter. I itch to pick it back up and text Ebba. I haven’t texted her in years, so for all I know she has me blocked.
“Don’t do it,” I tell myself, my voice echoing around my empty apartment. I stare at the device for a moment longer before I swipe it up and say, “Fuck it.”
Me: Did you make it in okay?
I stare the text message hoping I don’t sound like a total idiot. I can just imagine her rolling her eyes at it and thinking about how pathetic I am.
I wait five, then ten minutes, for a response before I give up hope and head to shower.
Climbing in bed, I decide she must have my number blocked and I can’t say I blame her.
But just as I’m about to drift off, my phone vibrates on my nightstand. I reach over faster than I’ve probably ever grabbed my phone and shock has my heart stopping and restarting when I see her name on the screen.
Ebba: There was a delay, but I just got home. Thanks for checking.
I smile to myself. It’s a simple response, but it’s something and that means everything to me.
Me: Good. Glad you’re in safe.
She sends a thumbs up in response and I plug my phone back into the charger.
A goofy smile dons my lips as I drift off to sleep.