“Hmm. I saw you last night. Looked like a bad fall.”

“I twisted my ankle, but otherwise I’m okay. I’m icing it now.”

“Good, good.” Another pause. She sounded far away, like she was barely listening. Probably distracted by her show and her cigarettes. This is why I never called her; neither of us knew what to say to the other. “How’s school?”

That was it for her interest in the show, aka the biggest thing that had ever happened to me. No words of encouragement, questions about how it was going, or good luck wishes. Why was I even surprised? And this question sounded like something she felt obligated to ask, rather than actual interest. “School is good. One more year and all.”

“Is that all?”

“Yep, just one.” Did she really not know that? Mother of the Year, for sure. I adjusted the ice on my ankle, but I needed a new pack. Perfect—an excuse to hang up. There was one last thing I needed to talk to her about, but I hated this part. Julie had said my mom looked better, but I had to hear it for myself. “How are you doing? With…you know…”

“I’m not drinking again, if that’s what you’re asking,” she snapped. “Sober for three months now, thank you very much.”

“That’s great, Mom.”

“Yes, well, it’s not a big deal.” There was another long pause. “Did you tell your father about the show?”

My fingers dug into the side of my phone. She always did this. I’d ask her about her drinking, and in return, she’d bring him up. Even though I’m sure it brought her just as much pain to talk about him. “No, and I don’t plan to.”

“He’s your father.”

“Tell that to his real family.”

She huffed into the phone. “Suit yourself.”

Neither of us said anything for a minute, and I tried to think of a way to end this on a better note. Nothing came to mind.

“I voted for your band last night,” my mom said.

“You did?” It was a small gesture, and yet, for a mother who thought anything more than changing the channel was a chore, it was huge. Maybe it was her own way of saying she supported me. “Thanks, Mom.”

After we hung up, I found my father’s contact info in my phone. I probably should tell him about the show at some point. But as my finger hovered over the CALL button, I just couldn’t do it.