Page 7 of Someone to Call My Own

“Doesn’t that fall into the category of same old thing, different day?”

“You’re fucking hilarious, Em,” Memphis replied, but there was no heat in his voice. “It just wasn’t working between us. We wanted different things in life.”

The problem with Memphis was that he had no clue what he wanted to do in life—professionally or personally. He had one passion: comic books. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to get him anywhere in life unless he started creating them himself or opened an online store and sold the rare comic books he found. He might’ve loved going to comic book conventions, but it didn’t exactly pay the bills. He had multiple degrees from prestigious universities, including an MBA, and didn’t use them because they were obtained out of obligation, not desire. I thought Memphis would be much happier if he at least found a job that paid enough so he could move out of Aunt Karen’s basement and into an apartment.

I had the means to help him, but he refused me each and every time I made the offer. Smart men would’ve stopped offering, but either I wasn’t smart, or I never wanted Memphis to forget how much he meant to me. He was the only person I could talk to about River and my psychic connections. I treasured his friendship and devotion to seeing me live even when it was the last thing I wanted for myself.

“I could always…”

“Nope.” His response was the same as it always was before he changed the subject. “Has River returned to your dreams?”

His question hit me like a tornado and the effect to my heart was just as devastating. “No.”

“I’m sorry for upsetting you, Em,” he replied. “I won’t bring him up again.”

“I’m glad you did, Memphis. No one else is brave enough to speak his name to me andnottalking about him is far more painful for me. It’s just… I miss him.” That line about time healing all wounds was utter shit. I shook my head to snap myself out of my melancholy. If I let it grab me, it would imprison me for the rest of the day. For River, I wanted to find some semblance of peace and happiness, but I felt like I was at a crossroads in my life and, no matter the direction I chose, none of them would lead me to him. “You can always come for a visit if you need a change of scenery. I have plenty of room.”

“I might take you up on that, Em.”

We talked for a few minutes about random things, and I could tell there was something he wanted to say but hesitated for some reason. It could mean only one thing. “My mother asked you to pass a message on to me, didn’t she?”

“Yes, but I didn’t make her any promises.”

“Let’s hear it, Memphis. What did Mommy dearest have to say?” I asked, bracing myself for a pithy, cold message about me shirking my duties. Perhaps she wanted to tell me to get my head out of my ass and come back to the company or maybe it was to ask me to see a psychiatrist for my “crazy episodes.”

Memphis was quiet for a long time, and I worried that it must’ve been something really bad. “She said, and I quote, ‘tell my son hello from me and that I miss him.’ First, I nearly fell out of the chair, then I thought it was a trap. I replayed the words and the tone of voice she used to say them at least a hundred times before I called you.”

“Huh,” I replied. No other word came to mind on how best to describe how much Memphis stumped me that morning. “That’s new.”

“Tell me about it. And, Em, she sounded sincere.”

“Thanks for telling me, Memphis. I’ll think about calling her.” I wouldn’t make promises I couldn’t keep. “You give my offer some thought too.”

“I’ll think aboutvisitingyou,” he said, making sure I knew which offer he would consider.

“My door is always open to you,” I said before we disconnected.

Hearing that my mother was looking for me was enough to make me want to build a blanket fort and hide like I did when I was a kid, but I wouldn’t give her that kind of power over me. Instead, I went for the jog I planned before Memphis called me. The rhythmic sound of my feet slapping against the concrete and the steady rise and fall of my lungs centered me when my world felt chaotic. My mother and I had a turbulent relationship for as far back as I could remember. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that she had changed her ways. No, she wanted something from me. But what?

There was a cute little gazebo in the park that was the halfway mark of my jog. I hadn’t lived there long, but I’d already developed a routine of stopping to stretch on one of the benches beneath the gazebo. I saw Josh running toward the gazebo from the opposite side of town. He looked surprised to see me but didn’t say anything.

I propped my heel on the back of the bench so that my leg was extended out in front of me. I bent over my leg and reached for my toes, stretching my hamstrings. I felt Josh staring at me and looked up at him. His surprise had turned wary like I’d read his mind or something.

“I can’t read your damn mind, Josh.”

“You just did,” he said suspiciously.

“It didn’t take psychic ability to know what you were thinking,” I said, switching legs. Josh’s thoughts were plain to see in his expressions. “Did anyone ever tell you not to play poker?” It was a reversal of my original opinion about my neighbor.

“Yes, but then I took all his money and that of his parents too.” Josh laughed maniacally.

“Good to know,” I said with a nod of my head. I noticed that Josh’s eyes kept straying to my man-bun and chuckled. “Not a fan, huh?”

“No, although I can appreciate the necessity to get it off your neck while working up a sweat. Not that I’m thinking about the ways you work up a sweat or anything.” Josh’s hazel eyes widened, and his cheeks turned pink with embarrassment.

“I didn’t get the wrong idea,” I told him. “I knew you meant jogging and not other, um… sweaty activities.”

“You did it again.” Josh took a leery step backward.