Hi, Mom.
Just checking in.
How was your week?
Oh, I showed the message to Theo, who read it with obvious distaste.
Every Sunday at 3 p.m., I explained.
like clockwork.
Duty call complete.
Guilt assuaged for another week.
“What do you usually tell him?”
“That I’m fine.”
“Everything’s fine.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
I looked at the phone, then at Theo.
“What do you think I should tell him today?”
Theo’s grin was wicked.
“The truth?”
“Having a wonderful weekend.”
“Theo is showing me his art collection.”
“We’re discussing travel plans.”
I hit send and immediately felt a delicious thrill of rebellion.
Within 30 seconds, my phone rang.
“Mom.”
Brandon’s voice was tight with barely controlled panic.
“Travel plans?”
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“Yes, Theo has a house in Tuscanyany.”
“We’re thinking of spending a few weeks there in the fall.”
The silence on the other end stretched so long, I wondered if we’d been disconnected.
Finally, Brandon found his voice.
“a few weeks in Italy with a man you just reconnected with.”
“Is there a problem with that?”
I asked innocently.
“Mom, you don’t even have a passport.”
“Actually, I renewed it last year.”
“Robert and I had talked about taking a cruise before he got sick.”
The memory brought a pang of sadness, but it was gentle now, worn smooth by time.
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