CUTTING THE UMBILICAL HEART STRINGS

My son Erik hasn’t texted for a while. I’m not worried. I’ll hear something soon. He and his girlfriend, Kelly—has it already been a year?—are super busy at college. Studying, socializing, you know. There’s always something fun and interesting going on. Parties. I’m so glad I’d suggested Erik apply to schools in a warm climate. And, otherwise, he wouldn’t have met her. I smile, picturing the two of them holding hands, walking to class under the palm trees in their shorts and t-shirts. I remember those days. Except for the nice weather. God, was it cold up in Wisconsin. I’m seriously so happy for them.

Actually, how long has it been since I’ve heard from either of them? Erik’s always been good about keeping in touch. Regularly returns my calls. Pretty regularly. And Kelly usually always replies to me if I can’t get a hold of him for some reason. I mean, it’s not like I’m finicky or demanding. Not like I expect him to call me daily. I’m thrilled if I get a quick text, a simple “Love you, too, Mom.” I admit, I do love those kissy face emojis. 

Did something happen? I take in a deep breath. Tap my fingernails on my coffee cup. And then tell myself to stop being silly. Things couldn’t be better. There couldn't be a better mate for my son, even someone threw me a DIY daughter-in-law device. She’s smart and driven and—my Goodness—hilarious. I’m still laughing at her joke about the Irish yogi! She’s also kind to old people. Me. But most importantly, somehow, she can put up with him. Firstborns tend to be on the high-maintenance side. I can actually sleep at night knowing he’s cared for. You know what I mean, if you’re a mom, of a boy. And the way she looks at him… Life is good. Really.

Then why is my stomach acting so funny? I check my messages. My call history. Actually, it’s been more than a while. Days. It’s fine. I can wait. I don’t want to bother them. I’ll let them be—

The phone rings, and I startle. My heart. Finally.

It’s Grandma. She can’t open her emails.

While she goes on and on, I laugh to myself, thinking about our last full family dinner. I’ll never forget it. Erik and Kelly were in town, and we were all at Grandma’s house. The six of us fit perfectly around her elaborately decorated dining room table—napkin rings, plate chargers, a bouquet of daffodils. Then Erik popped another chocolate from the crystal candy dish into his mouth. 

I didn’t say anything. But Kelly, well—

She looked at him sideways. “How many chocolates have you eaten?”

Erik shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe four or five.”

“That’s enough,” she said.

That’s enough. Stunned, I stared at her from across the table. And, at that very moment, I realized: She was made for him. For us.

I imagined holding my grand-baby in my arms. Her thick brown eyebrows. His blonde curls. So cute. I want four of them, two girls and two boys. I mean, not now, of course. I’m only fifty and Erik and Kelly are just nineteen. After college and first jobs. An apartment. Pottery Barn has the cutest stuff, though. And, have you seen the layettes at Restoration Hardware? No grandchildren will be more spoiled than mine. Even if Kelly and Erik decide to live far away from home, I’ll be racking up those frequent flyer miles.

The image of our big, perfect, happy family disappears when Grandma asks how her Grandson is doing. My stomach.

After we hang up, I stare at my phone. Erik’s profile picture. His smile. His crooked, handsome nose. The little pock mark on his chin from when he had the chicken pocks. I open messages and scroll through my texts. Still nothing. Something’s not right. 

I empty the dishwasher. Start a load of laundry. Do Wordle. Finally, “Hi Sweetie! is this a good time?” I use my cheery, I’m-your-biggest-fan mom voice.

I hear the air leaving his body in a long, endless sigh. “Hi Mom.” His voice is barely there. Different. Weird.

“What’s the haps!? Anything exciting going on?” Still cheery.

“Not really.” 

Huh. “Are you…uh… in the middle of something?”

Another sigh. “No.”

“How’s my favorite Lady?”

The silence lasts forever.

“We broke up.”

I gasp slips out of me. Did he hear it? Shit. Wait. I switch the phone to my other ear, the one I can hear better with. “What did you say?”

“We broke up.”

Time stands still.

I swallow. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

I hate that word. Fine. I know I should stay on the phone to get the explanation, ask him for details: when, how, why. I should be there for him. Make sure he’s eating. “Um. Good. Okay. I’m sorry. I—” I need to get off the phone. “You know I’m always here if you need me. Call or text if you need to talk. Anytime.” And then, as if I’m running late for spin class, I blurt, “I-love-you-honey-bye.” 

I press the red phone icon. They broke up? But… how is that possible when they’re so in love? When I’m so in love with them? I’ve already made plans for us for Thanksgiving and winter breaks. All of us. Zoolights. The Kristkringel Christmas Market. Reservations at the Walnut Room. They love long days jam-packed with family-fun events. I even bought extra tickets for the Nutcracker in case they wanted to invite friends.

I put the phone down and flip through the pages in my planner. No, they couldn’t have broken up, they’re too perfect for each other. They probably just had a miscommunication. A minor argument. Kids that age can be so melodramatic. And the stress they’ve been under, what with finals coming up and the career fair. They just need a break from each other. A short one. 

Giddy, I pick up my phone again and send a text to Erik. “I’m sure you’ll patch things up.”

It goes from delivered to read. I wait for the three dots. They don’t come.

I keep staring at the phone. Should I? Erik would kill me. I bite my lower lip and text Kelly. “Hey Sweetheart. Erik just told me you guys are taking a little break. I’m confident you’ll work things out soon.” I add a brilliant quote about love conquering all. Then, “I can’t wait to see you at Thanksgiving! Miss you.” Kissy face emoji.

Nothing. 

What could’ve happened?

Was she unfaithful? 

WAS HE?

I shut myself in my room for three days.

When I finally emerge, I’m ready to face the world. At least get back to spin class. But, first—I text Erik. “Any News?”