Where She Belongs

“Darling, it’s your mother. I know you’re there, pick up.”

It was the third call this morning, and listening to her beg on the other end of the line made me feel just a little bit guilty. Enough to make me answer – no. Kitty sat on my stomach, purring with pure delight as I rubbed his little tabby ears. I couldn’t get up even if I wanted to. He would give Garfield second place in a fat cat competition and if he decided he was sitting on you, he was staying. Again the phone started to ring, and reaching for the TV remote I turned up the volume.

It was November, and that meant she probably wanted to make sure I was coming home for Thanksgiving. I'll wait for the email or text messages, it was easier to tell her no that way.

“Samara Olivia Franklin, get up off that goddamn sofa now and answer your phone!” She roared, startling Kitty so much that he rolled off me with a thump.

“It’s a message Kitty, she can’t actually see-” I froze as I sat up and sure enough, standing by the living room window, my mother looked ready to murder someone.

Since that someone was me, I gave a little wave, pretended to take earphones out of my ears and got up, pointing to the front door.

“Thank you!” She finished recording with a beep.

“Mum! Hi!” I hugged her. She liked that, but she barely managed to pat my back before she was barreling into my apartment.