The family I choose

My cell phone rings at the other end of my desk; my hand feels heavy as I make a weak attempt to reach for it. Whoever is calling can leave a voicemail. Yes, it is 2019, but that shit still works. My teeth grind together in irritation when the ringing becomes insistent. Why is it when you misplace your phone, it rings for what feels like a second, and when you want the thing to stop ringing, it doesn't shut up? 

The jingling of my coworker, Jake's keys, softens my irritation by a mear minuscule when he walks into my office. I continue staring at the phone, ignoring Jake trying to will the phone to quiet its incessant shrill. "Won't you answer that?" he points to the phone when he says that.

"I am too tired," I nearly growl, "I can't move."

"Seriously? Your chair has wheels."

I talk slowly since it appears he is not comprehending my situation, "I said, I cannot move, my feet must move for this chair to roll."

His judgment is palpable, "Okaaay."

I take a deep breath, the irritation getting to be too much, "Why are you in my office, jake?"

"Oh!" He jumps as if being reminded, he had a purpose in being here. He had a purpose when he lifted his ass out of his office chair and merrily walked into mine--disrupting my shitty mood." yea, uh, I wanted to know if you have plans for Thanksgiving."

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, holding back the urge to bite off his face. "It's Wednesday, Jake. Thanksgiving is tomorrow if I didn't have any plans, do you think I would tell you?"

Jake looks down, fidgeting with his suit jacket buttons. "I don't know." He mumbles. "Mayb-" I interrupt him, the stress of the day turning me into something otherworldly "If I had no plans, do you think I would be like, nope no, no plans at all. I am not that lame Jake. I am not staying home and stuffing a turkey into my face all by my lonesome self. Thank you very much."

Jake's face reads annoyed AF. I don't blame him. What's wrong with me? What brought on this shitty, shitty mood? He lifts up his hands as if in surrender and turns to leave the office, "Hey," He says, "I was only trying to be nice! Remind me next time to leave any such notions at the front door."

"Wait! Jake!" I hold my hands up to my face. What is up with me today!?

"I am so sorry," I rub my eyelids, tragically ruining my mascara., "I am going to my Mom, upstate." I am sorry for barking at you." 

Jake's hands relax, and he walks back over to my desk, situating himself to the corner. Just like he does when we get into our intense conversations. The ones where we debate Apple vs. Android products.

"Look, Elizabeth, if for some reason you decide you don't want to go all the way upstate. My roommates and I are preparing Thanksgiving with my parents. I would really love it if you could be there."

"That's an interesting mix." I laugh, "Your parents and your roommates."

Jake's eyes shine with love and pride. "Well, yea, my parents are my family chosen FOR me, but my roommates are the family I choose for myself."

 "Oh, Josh," I breath while tapping his knee, "Aren't you a fucking cliche."

As I walk home, My heart beats with a steady stabbing sensation. I am surprised when I notice a tear roll down my cheek. I sigh and remember how fondly Jake spoke of his parents: "My family chosen for me."

The way he said, "My" family, not "The" family. I thought that was sweet.

I think of my Mom, is she MY family?

Yes, she took care of me till I was 18, that is a lot. Yet, do I see her as MY family My people? The way Jake loves his parents' so fondly?

I notice my heart and the steady emptiness I have been feeling all day, with the knowledge I am visiting my Mom tomorrow. Is that why I've been so on edge? Do I know subconsciously what this means? I walk in silence, recalling moments I had growing up with my Mom, reflecting on what it was like being her daughter.

I take a deep breath while I am attacked with a sharp memory.

I was 7, yet I can recall that painful terrifying accident like it was yesterday. The day that is literally seared into my mind. Remembering it is like taking a knife and dragging it through my skull. A boomerang in slow-motion replays in my brain if there is such a thing. The replay of the car door carving in and squashing my leg nearly slicing it right off before my eyes. I remember the hospital that sterile smell, the pain, and then years later, the court cases, standing there reliving the moment over and over again. 

I remember my mom turning to me after the judge bangs his gavel on the stand. "You won!" She yells, "Oh my Jake! You are going to be rich!" She looks angry when she adds, "Of course, I get nothing! I am her Mother, so what I wasn't in the car, I should be getting at least half of what she receives."

After that, at least once a month like clockwork, my Mother would give me this speech. Usually, when she was chilling on the couch, eating a bag of chips. She'd look at my leg for a few minutes, shakes her head, and say, "You know what, Elizabeth? Let me just say," She would pause popping a chip into her mouth and give a few crunches, forcing me to wait for her to continue on her expert advice, "Never, ever - and I mean never, allow the men you are dating see that ugly scar. They may simply leave you." 

Oh, Mom, what expert advice.

A week later, we would have a similar conversation:

"Never tell anyone," she would say while folding laundry, "Never ever tell anyone you have money; that may be the only reason they marry you."

Well, Mom, I mutter to myself as my feet drag themselves closer to my apartment down the street, "What if I tell them about the money and show them the scar all at the same time? Would one balance the other out?"

I let out a scoff recalling how ridiculous my Mother is and also remembering how incredibly rejecting she was and how lonely I felt growing up. 

My phone rings, and I am startled back into the present. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, dear!"

"Oh, Mom! I was just thinking of you!" (If only she knew.)

"Oh, I'm glad. Listen, I met a group of people traveling in from Italy today, and I invited them to dinner. I hope you don't mind." I am about to comment on the fact that she never asked me how I am doing, yet I stay silent, having learned how astonishingly limited my Mom is.

"No, I don't mind at all. That's sweet." 

"Yes! I think so too. They were all just so good looking I had to invite them."

"Ok," I breath. weird.

"Could you come up tonight, sweetie? Help me cook? Thirty-five people are a bit overwhelming for one individual, you know!"

"What?!"

"Can you hear me, dear? Are you under a tunnel again? I said, 35 people."

"I heard you the 1st time, Mom! That's crazy. What happened to us spending time and catching up? I haven't seen you in six months!"

"Oh, dear, what is there to catch up on? Do you have a boyfriend?

"Uh, what?"

"Look, dear, I need you to come up early, can you?"

"No, Mom." I allow in as much air as I possibly can into my lugs, "You know what? I think I am going to stay in the city for Thanksgiving this year."

"Why?" She barks, "Because of the 35 people?"

"No, Mom, because you are not my people" She can't hear this, but I continue anyway "You may be the family chosen for me, but you are not the family I choose for myself."

"Well, do you have a family you choose for yourself, because to my knowledge you are currently single."

"Goodbye, Mom, I gotta go. Enjoy the 35 Italians and their pretty faces."

I hang up and sit myself down on the sidewalk stoop, allowing my mind to wander. I don't mind being alone. Being alone right now is better than being upstate in my Mother's huge beautiful empty house. She entertains 35 guests while I find myself isolated in an abyss of space. I had so much, yet so little as a child. I possessed everything a girl could ask for but had nothing I really wanted. What I always had was a gaping hole in my chest.

It's oh so silent on the streets tonight, I listen to the lack of sound and feel intense relief. I allow my body to slowly breathe in the night air, listening to the wind blow as it moves through my hair. I suddenly notice a figure in black coming towards me. I squint in the direction of the character, trying to see if I see correctly. Yep. My heart starts to race, Should I get up and run? What time is it? And when did the streets get so isolated? How am I on this quiet street all alone? I freeze since my idiot body won't respond to doing anything else. The figure--who I can now see is a male is coming closer. His features are clear to me now. "Jake!?" I yell out. 

"Elizabeth?" He yells back, "Is that you? Why are you sitting on a sidewalk stoop all alone?"

When he gets closer, he plops himself on the stoop right next to me. 

"What's going on with you, little weirdo sitting on the sidewalk like a hobo?"

"I am not going to my Mom tomorrow." I spit out, "I'm staying in the city."

 "Niiiiiiiice" he says, his face stretching into a grin.

"Why are you so happy?

"Why do you think I am happy?" His eyes roll as if I said the stupidest thing known to humanity.

"I am happy because now you can be at the dinner of my special people."

I can't help but give an audible snort. "I am one of your special people?"

My body moves a fraction as I am lightly punched on my shoulder, "Don't you dare mock me, Elizabeth!" 

"Who else will entertain me with the debate that is the Apple ecosystem?"

I laugh, "No one actually. No one in our office, at least."

"You see?" He says, "YOU are my people." 

Jake stands up and holds out his hand for me to take. I grab it to pull myself up off the sidewalk.

"Now, let's get you home before someone else scoops you up."

"Someone like...?"

"Someone like that guy over there."

He points to a fella shifting to the trash. "Oh." is all I can muster.

"So, What should I bring to this dinner of "Your people?"

"You just bring you."

"Wine?"

"Sure, if you want."

"Ok."

I tilt my head to gaze at the stars, and my face stretches into a huge grin. I laugh when I realize this is the first genuine smile all week. "What's so funny?"

"I'm happy," I say, and I know it's the truth.