THAT FUCKING CALL
My mom’s call came in the middle of the afternoon.
I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, when my phone buzzed. I answered, of course, but the way she said it already felt sharp, like something serious was coming.
“Adam, we need to talk.”
I already knew that tone. The tone of someone about to give me news I wasn’t going to like. A small chill ran through me, like I was already bracing for the worst. No good conversation ever starts with “we need to talk.” Was it a divorce? Did Grandma die? My mom never called me while she was at work. Honestly, I hate it when people say that to me.
“Hey, Mom. What’s wrong? Why do you sound so grim?” I asked, trying not to sound worried.
“Your dad and I are leaving on Friday. We’ll be gone for almost three weeks. And we don’t want you staying home alone.”
I sat up on the bed at once, relieved it wasn’t bad news, but at the same time pissed as hell because this was peak absurdity. I could even say it was intuition—I was already guessing where this conversation was headed.
“You had to call me for that? Couldn’t you just wait until you got home?”
“Yes, I know. But… honey, I just wanted to get ahead of things.”
“And?”
“And I really don’t want you staying… staying home by yourself.”
“Mom, for fuck’s sake… I’m twenty-three, you know that?”
“I know.”
“Then why the hell can’t I stay alone? If I were a teenager I’d understand, but… twenty-three!”
There was a short silence on the other end.
“Because the last time we left you alone you almost set the kitchen on fire, Adam. And then there was that party you threw—remember my expensive china that mysteriously ended up broken? Or that sticky condom on… well, in MY bed? Seriously, you couldn’t have just had sex in your own room?”
“Mom! Come on! Zero need to bring that up. Besides, that was a year ago.”
“And it still happened,” she cut in with a tired sigh. “Listen, I didn’t want to wait and talk about this with your dad around so he wouldn’t start inserting himself with a bunch of extra details…”
“Oh, right. Like you didn’t already start this conversation off so well.”
“…Look, honey, I… we’re not going to rehash every single problem again, okay? You know what your father would say: while you’re under my roof, you follow my rules.”
“Yeah, Dad’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”
“Yeah, true.” She gave a short, dry laugh, then continued, making the whole situation worse. “Clara already agreed. You’re going to stay at her place.”
“Fucking hell… are you serious?! You couldn’t think of anything else? Grandma? My aunt? The neighbor? Anything!” I let out a dry, humorless laugh, already stressed. “At Clara’s. Seriously? I… I don’t like Clara.”
“That’s a very strong word to use about your sister.”
“You know what I mean. It’s not that I hate her, but she’s so unbearable. She always has been! That dyke…”
“Adam…” she said, already losing patience but trying to stay calm. “I know she gets on your case sometimes, but this is for the best. She has space, she’s responsible—unlike you—and she lives close by. It’s the best option.”
“But… Mom, she treats me like I’m a fifteen-year-old kid. If it was two days, I’d get it. But three weeks?! Are you trying to make me completely lose my mind?!”
“So much drama. She just worries about you,” my mom answered way too quickly. “Your sister has always been the most mature one in the family. Since she was little. We trust her. She never broke my things or… had sex in my bed and left everything sticky—”
“Ah! You don’t need to keep reminding me of that. Clara plays the perfect one for you guys, but I know who she really is.” I ran a hand over my face, feeling the irritation climb up my throat. “You two only ever kiss her ass.”
“Adam…”
“No. It’s true. It’s always been like this. ‘Clara is so responsible,’ ‘Clara never gave us any trouble,’ ‘Clara handles everything.’ And I’m the problem who still needs a babysitter at twenty-three.”
“It’s not about that, honey. It’s just while we’re away. Three weeks. Then you come back home and that’s it. Life goes on. You’re not going to die.”
“If only I was that lucky…”
I stayed quiet for a few seconds. I already knew there was no winning this argument.
“And… what if I refuse?”
“Then we cancel the trip,” my mom answered without hesitation. “Your father’s already going crazy from work. I’m going crazy from work. We need this break. But if you don’t go stay with your sister, we’re not going.”
I closed my eyes, incredulous at how determined she was.
Once again Clara came out as the perfect solution. Once again I was the burden.
“Fine,” I finally muttered. “I’ll go. Not like I have a choice, right?”
“Thank you, son. Clara’s already been told. You can go over Friday afternoon. Look, I’m going to hang up now, but we’ll finish talking later.”
“Okay…”
The call ended shortly after.
I sat there staring at the dark screen of my phone in my hand. The anger was quiet, but present. The kind that didn’t scream… it just sat there, waiting.
Three weeks at her place.
Three weeks putting up with that superior look of hers.
I threw the phone onto the bed and lay back down, staring at the ceiling.
It was going to be hell.
Later, I heard the front door open. My parents were home.
I stayed in bed a few more minutes, just listening to the sounds of the house. Footsteps, keys being tossed onto the table, my mom’s voice saying something quietly. I was in no rush to go downstairs.
When I finally walked into the living room, my dad was taking off his jacket. He looked at me over his shoulder.
“Did you talk to Clara yet?”
“Not yet.”
“But it’s settled, right? You’re going Friday.”
It wasn’t really a question.
I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms.
“It’s settled.”
He nodded, as if that was the only acceptable answer.
“Better this way. Your sister keeps a tidy house, she won’t give you any trouble. And we’ll feel better knowing you’re not alone.”
I just nodded. I didn’t have the energy to argue again.
My mom walked past me on her way to the kitchen and gave my shoulder a light touch.
“It’ll only be for a little while, Adam. Then you’ll come back. She’s your sister—stop being so hard on her.”
Right… I was the villain in the end.
I forced a half-smile and went back upstairs.
In my room, I opened the closet and stared at the clothes hanging there. I didn’t have anything better to do anyway. So I pulled the suitcase out from under the bed and started throwing things into it without much thought.
T-shirts, pants, a charger, the basics. Every piece I tossed in only reinforced the same thing: I was going to spend the next three weeks at her place.
The same place where she looked down on me, barely spoke, and made a point of letting me know I was an inconvenience.
I closed the suitcase harder than I needed to.
It was Wednesday. I only had one free day left.
Still, the irritation wouldn’t go away.
