Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I inhale deeply, my mother is the head of the oncology department for the children’s hospital in New York City. It’s where she met my dad many, many moons ago, when he came in with my big brother Jack who was fighting cancer. She got him on an experimental drug; my father would have done anything to save him. We are thankful every single fucking day that it worked and he went into remission.
In the end, she fell in love with my dad at the same time. He was also playing hockey with my uncle Max at the time. Now that they are both retired, he heads up the Horton Foundation, which helps a few children’s hospitals across the states, and my father runs the arena that has been in my aunt Allison’s family for generations. It’s where most of my cousins who play for the NHL go in the summer to get fit. Or if they are rehabbing an injury, they go to him to get back into shape. “Mom, we have this conversation monthly.” I put the phone down on the counter in the bathroom and pull the towel off my long, light-brown hair that has streaks of blonde woven into it. Picking up the leave-in conditioner, I start spraying. “I love living in Australia.”
“But we would love you living here,” she pushes and I laugh.
“Noted,” I tell her. “Is that what I owe the pleasure of this phone call?” I put the conditioner back down and start to brush out my hair. “Usually this is a Sunday phone call. After you have the family dinner, you call and let me know I’m missed and it isn’t the same without me.”
“It’s almost Sunday,” she replies and I snort.
“It’s literally Tuesday over here, so it’s Monday where you are since you know I’m in the future.” I look at her. “I will say nothing bad happens, so you are still all safe.”
“Very funny,” she retorts sarcastically. “Anyway, I was calling you to remind you…” I stop moving as I listen to her, knowing she is probably going to tell me something she reminded me about at least five times, but the minute she said it, I most likely forgot about it. “…that you need to buy your plane ticket.”
I slap my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Shit,” I swear, “I had it written down on a Post-it at work, and I think I threw it out.”
“Your brother is getting married,” she huffs, “and you forgot!” The last part is shrieked out.
“I mean, it’s not like I won’t be at the wedding.” I try to calm her down. “Or that there are no planes to America.”
“Elizabeth Parker Morrow.” She uses my full name, letting me know she is either deeply upset with me, or she’s about to lose her mind. Actually, when she’s about to lose her mind, she says my name with clenched teeth, so I think I’m fine…ish.
“Here we go,” I groan. “Mom,” I say softly, “I will get online right now.” I grab my hair in my hand and twist it up before clipping it to the back of my head. “And I’ll get my ticket.”
“Don’t bother,” she grumps, “I already bought your ticket.” I smile at her. “Don’t you dare smirk at me, young lady.”
“I’m smiling because I’m happy that in less than six weeks I’m going to be seeing you,” I tell her. “I’m so excited I get to spend Christmas with you.” I hold up my hands and jump up and down. “Yay, Christmas.”
“Zack,” my mother shouts for my father, “come and speak to your daughter.”
“Mom,” I say her name, “you’re the best.” I lean on my elbows in the middle of the small island and wait for my father to come to the phone.
“Here.” She thrusts the phone at him. “She’s exactly like you.”
He chuckles and I see him sit down on the couch next to my mother and lean over to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, if it isn’t my favorite daughter.”
“Um, I’m your only daughter,” I remind. “Unless someone comes to the door and, ding-dong, you have a long-lost daughter you didn’t know about. How awkward would that conversation be?” He gasps. “Don’t even try it, you were a very good-looking man back in the day, and you played professional sports. God knows where you put that thing.” I suddenly fake gag.
“Why am I even talking to her?” My father looks over at my mother, who is now biting her lip. “I told you just buy her the ticket and send her an email, but no, you wanted to call her and then she’s all like this.”
I laugh. “I love you too, Dad,” I tell him and he side-eyes me. “But yes, send me the details. I am going to put in for time off. Fingers crossed I can get it.”