The Velvet Chronicles Four

555-7162. I couldn’t believe my own fingers. What had gotten into me? I was about to hang up when I heard his voice on the other end. My throat started to cake with good intentions and dry excuses.

            “Hello! This is Chance. Leave a message at the beep.” (beep)

            “Hi. I—uh, I have no idea why I’m calling.” I hung up. No name no number, just a sorry excuse for a message. Likely, he’s forgotten I even exist anyway.

            “Let bygones be bygones, whatever bygones are.” Grandpa. I think of my two clueless grandparents downstairs. Don’t they know how I hate visiting my mom? I don’t remember her as being bipolar, or suicidal or whatever her “condition” is. I remember her as Kate. My mom. So she yelled sometimes. My dad yelled louder to drown her out. So she hated her life. My dad hated her in his life just to make it interesting. That’s what bothered me so much. The fact that she is stuck in a mental facility, being visited weekly by an abnormal, parentless, hateful kid and she’s okay with that. I’m not okay with that! He is minding his own business, not caring or calling. I’m not okay with that either! I want someone to notice, to care. To say, “Velvet, what the heck are you doing with your life?”

            “On the other hand,” Grandpa always says, “If you don’t know what a bygone is, then forget about that other saying. Do whatever you want.”

            I dial Chance’s number.