Mother’s Think They Know Best–

The sky was the slate-grey of a cold day. Snuggling further into her blankets, though the hospital room was comfortably warm, Jackie supposed there had to be at least some perks to being stuck inside.

“…though, of course she would say that…”

Blinking at the note in her mother’s voice, the sound crackling through the phone’s speaker, Jackie nodded absently. Her eyes remained on the window. “Hmm? Oh  yeah.”

Her mother sighed. It was weary. Long-winded. “Jackie? Are you even listening to me?”

“What? Oh. Sorry Mom,” Jackie mumbled, forcing herself back to the topic at hand.

“What’s wrong, Jacks?”

“Nothing,” Jackie was quick to reassure. With a snap, she took her eyes off the window. The lure of distraction was too readily available…

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m just a little sleepy, I think.” Not to mention bored out of her mind. This was her fourth day in a hospital bed. Her fourth day of doing absolutely nothing—of almost preferring to be out in the freezing cold temperatures she so frequently heard the nurses grumbling about as they shuffled past.

And—truth be told, her mother’s stories were sometimes rather, well, long-winded and pointless. About people Jackie didn’t know, and places she’d never gone. And, since no one was there to see it, Jackie felt almost too comfortable giving reign to her daydreams….

“Well, you can’t go getting all silent like that on me,” her mother protested, but nicely. “Or I start to worry. I start to think…bad thoughts. That maybe something’s happened to you. And I wouldn’t even know, except by your lack of response. And then I get nervous. You’ll understand someday, when you’re a mother,” she said, flustered.

Jackie rolled her eyes. That was the other thing. Her mother had a flair for the dramatics.

“Sorry Mom,” she repeated. “Everything’s fine. I haven’t flatlined, or anything.”

“That’s not funny!”

“It was a little funny.”

“Honestly, you have no idea—these talks are all that I get to calm my fears,” her mother huffed. And that’s when Jackie knew she’d made a mistake. Her mother’s was all het was up about it now. “I hardly sleep, thinking about what happened to you, what could have happened to you…”

But just not bad enough to make the trip. Jackie made a face at the thought, which had popped in her head almost unbidden. Her mother didn’t travel well. Her anxiety kept her off the roads. And it wasn’t like Jackie was dying.             And, besides, her mother had called her every day. Every. Damn. Day. (Now she came to think about it, maybe she should be glad that the only thing separating her from silence was the End button…)

“…I mean, we always knew that city would be dangerous…”

That city, because dared her mother refer to Minneapolis by its actual name?

            “Here it comes,” Jackie whispered quietly to herself. After all, she’d been waiting for this moment for almost half a week now. To give her mother credit, she’d held back longer than Jackie had expected.  But alas, the inevitable couldn’t be put back forever and now the time had arrived: Mrs. Cambridge’s favorite lecture: the evils of city-dwelling, and why Jackie should pack up her bags and head on home. The sooner the better.

Jackie had heard it all before. Her eyes drifted back toward the window. The sky looked more weaker now, almost milky—

“I’m just saying, I heard David Pierce is looking to hire someone at his office—”

With a snap, Jackie found herself back in the conversation, her fingers curling around the blankets. She fought for composure. If her mother had filled out another application in her name… “Oh? Are you looking for a new job?” Jackie asked glibly, but the lines around her mouth gave her away. Not that her mother could see….

Her mother huffed. “Jackie, don’t be dense—you know very well that I can’t work.”

If this were 19th century South, Jackie’s mother would be one of those ladies who was so frequently driven to bed by the vapors.

“Dad then?” Jackie queried innocently. “Strange change in careers, but…”

Her mother’s voice was starch. “No, Jackie. Of course I don’t mean him. Now stop this.”

Jackie grinned wickedly. Her mother was so easy…. “Stop what?”

“You know what!”

Jackie felt her grin slip. Her mother would not be broken. Not on this particular subject.

“Jackie. We’ve talked about this before…”

“And I’m prepared to offer you the same answer I did then.” Gone was the teasing, the amusement.

“Oh!” Jackie could almost see her mother’s cheeks swell over the sound. “That stubborn streak of yours!”

“No. Actually, it’s called independence. And the right to make my own choices,” Jackie insisted. The moment the words had left her mouth, however, she deeply regretted them. Her mother was a sensitive woman. And Jackie would pay for speaking to her like that.

Her mother sniffed expectantly. “Well! Pardon me for caring. What in the world was I thinking? To want you close to me, where I can see you, take care of you? Because, in case you forgot, you were violently attacked last week. Violently attacked!” Jackie rolled her eyes. Not because it wasn’t true, it was just the grating way her mother said the words. “I know a mother’s love can be such a burden,” she went on, her voice thick with sarcasm—“So please, don’t bother trying to spare my feelings. After all, it’s not as though they should matter. Certainly not to someone who’s so independent …”

Jackie counted to ten. Then twenty.

“Mom.” The word alone was an apology. “Of course your feelings matter. I-I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry—”

Her mother’s voice was watery, wet. “I just want you home where you’ll be safe.”

Jackie closed her eyes; prayed for patience. “But that’s just it. I’m happy here.”

Her mother scoffed. “Your happy? Sitting in that hospital bed?”

“Well. No.”

“Exactly.”

“I know what happened scared you,” Jackie said, her voice gentle, coaxing. “It scared me, too.”

“So how can you possibly consider staying…”

And that, Jackie knew would be the start of Round 2. Her mother was only just getting her second wind. Settling herself more comfortably against the pillows as her mother’s voice prattled on in the background, Jackie felt her gaze move back toward the window. Was it just her imagination, or were those pillowy puffs of snow falling outside?

Hanging up with her mother half an hour later, Jackie let out a deep breath. Her shoulders felt weighted; her head pounded from the back-and-forth; her lips pulled into a pout as she laid her phone down on the end-table.

The subject had been brought to a close in the usual sentiment. Her mother thought Jackie was being selfish. Childish. Thought she was staying in Minneapolis out of spite, simply because it was the opposite of what she wanted her to do. (As if Jackie lived her life with only her mother in mind!)

She’d sworn Jackie was going to send her into another of her famous panic attacks.

Then she’d hung up.

Wiping her hand under her nose, Jackie sniffed.

“Feeling sorry for yourself in here?”

Wiping her head up and around at the question, Jackie’s started eyes shifted toward the door, where Dr. Max Thompson was standing. He wore an easy, teasing smile. And damned if it wasn’t infectious. Before she even knew it, Jackie felt her own lips—the ones in the perpetual frown of moments ago—pulling upward…

She rolled her eyes. “Hardly. I’m wondering if I’m too old to put myself up for adoption.”

A surprised laugh escaped out his mouth. For some reason, she liked that. Knowing she could get such a reaction out of him.

Leaning more fully against the door, he lifted a curious eyebrow. “Do tell?”