Page 68 of Ruin The Friendship
LYDIA
My phone rings as I finish writing Fletcher’s name on the gift tag. I glance down, expecting it to be one of the girls or Dottie, since we’ve been talking about baby shower ideas all morning, but my mom’s name lights up the screen.
I take a deep breath and debate my options. I could answer it, wish her a Merry Christmas, and listen to her talk for however long about the next trip she’s planning, or what drama her friends at the dinner club are getting into lately.
Or I could ignore it, like I told myself a few weeks ago that I should. Part of me is curious to see what she has to say, still yearning for the attention my inner child needs.
I sent my parents the ultrasound photo the other day, giving them a quick update and letting them know all is well with the baby and me, but I haven't heard back. I’ve been talking Dottie’s ear off, texting her with random questions, and basically pretending she’s my mom.
Without thinking more, I swipe my thumb across the screen, answering the call.
“Merry Christmas,” I say, resting a hand on my not-quite-there baby bump.
“How are you?” Her voice is the familiar cool tone it always is.
“I’m doing well.” It’s surprising that she asks how I am. I keep speaking so she doesn’t try to take over the conversation. “I had my ultrasound the other day. Did you see the photos I sent?”
“I did, yes.” Her voice is even, not betraying any sort of emotion—joy or otherwise.
“What do you think?” I cautiously ask.
“It’s an ultrasound photo. It’s not like I can see what it looks like.”
The small amount of hope I had deflates like a balloon. “Right,” I murmur, picking at a loose string on the hem of my shirt. Hanging up would end badly, so I change the subject. “What are you and Dad doing for Christmas?”
“Your dad’s co-pilot invited us to the dinner club with his wife.”
“Oh, that’s nice of them,” I say, trying to hold back my tears.
“Yes, very nice. Now, are you going to be having a baby shower?”
Her words are such a shock that I nearly choke on air.
Why is she asking about a baby shower when a minute ago she couldn’t care less about the ultrasound of her grandchild? I haven’t heard from her in months.
“I am,” I tentatively say. “My friends and Fletcher’s mom are hosting it.”
“And you didn’t think to include your mother?” she asks, more quietly. “That’s just cruel.”
“I…” What does she want me to say? “I didn’t think you’d be interested in coming.”
Mom scoffs. “My daughter is having a baby. I should be the one hosting your baby shower. It would make the most sense to have it at the dinner club, so all the ladies can come.”
What is happening? The dinner club?Hosting? “What?No, Mom?—”
She interrupts me. “We will have to plan it for some time before you can no longer fly. When are you due?”
“May twenty-seventh,” I say, my mind running on overdrive. “Wait, Mom, no.”
She finally stops her rambling.
“I’m having my baby shower here,” I state firmly. “I don’t want to fly for my baby shower. Besides, if we had it there, none of my friends would be able to come.”
“Well, you can’t expect me to host it when I’m across the country.” The subtle irritation I’ve heard in her voice anytime something doesn’t go her way is slowly appearing. “Mothers typically host their daughter’s baby showers if there are no aunts on her mother’s side. I can’t believe you would take this opportunity away from me. You know I love hosting parties.”
I try not to let the guilt take over, but it’s there, sinking its claws into my chest and digging deep.
“I already have someone to host it.” I press a palm to my forehead. This conversation took a turn, and I am still trying to catch up. “Remember?”
