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The phone was ringing again. An awful, repetitive chime that pierced through the quiet peace of the evening in the Elsner household. Nancy looked up from her embroidery, making eye contact with her husband, sitting across the table from her with a book in his hand. Neither one of them had to ask who was calling. She always called this time of night. The question was whether to pick up.
“Honey…” Nancy began, gently placing her materials down on the table. “Maybe we should answer this time. She might leave us alone if do, just this once.” Her tone was careful and light, as if treading on eggshells with her words. She knew what this meant to her husband, how uncomfortable it made him to even mention his mother, but she had decided it was worse for him to allow himself to be harassed like this. Perhaps if they picked up the phone, heard her out, and told her off for calling, she’d finally learn to leave her son alone.
“No. We can't.” Henry closed his book with a little more force than intended, flinching when the pages snapped against each other. Despite his words, there was a longing in his eyes. Henry may have despised his mother for everything she’d put him through, but deep down he needed closure. He wished he could pick up that phone and scream obscenities at her, though he knew he never would. It simply wasn't in his nature. If he answered, things would just become worse. “You don't know her like I do, Nance. Giving her what she wants won’t solve anything.”
Nancy frowned, a bit disappointed, but she expected this. “I know it seems that way, dear, but we’re adults now. We should talk this out like grown-ups do. She knows you’ve matured, that you can make your own decisions- she can't dismiss you anymore. We need to make our boundaries known. You went no contact for a reason. She should respect that.”
“I said no, Nancy,” he asserted again, stronger this time. “This is me making my own decisions. She’ll never listen, no matter how old I am, as long as she still things she has a hold over me. Answering the phone would just confirm to her that I need her somehow. I don't want to do that.”
“Okay. I understand.” By now the ringing had ended anyway. There was no point in continuing the conversation. “I love you.”
Henry’s gaze softened, and he offered his wife a small smile. “I love you too.” He reached to lift up his book before remembering he’d slammed it closed. “Ah, darn, I’ve lost my page.”
“Good morning small town listeners! Today’s weather is expected to be nice and cool, with some light clouds and a lovely breeze for those who love the outdoors-”
The radio’s noise was drowned out by the crushing of water from the kitchen sink’s faucet as Nancy began scrubbing a plate clean of grime. She enjoyed listening to the radio as she worked- the static-like noise that accompanied the voices as they filtered through the radio made them appear black and white to her, a quality so similar to her husband’s voice.
The blaring noise of the phone ringing, however, was not pleasant. Nancy nearly dropped her plate, quickly drying her hands as she hurried to answer it. “Hello? You’ve reached Nancy Elsner,” She started, putting on her best hostess voice.
“Dear God, I thought you’d never answer.” Nancy’s entire body froze, a shiver trailing down her spine. She wasn't sure whose voice to expect but… anyone but her. “I’ve been calling and calling for ages! Surely my lousy son wouldn't be lousy enough to not answer his own mother!”
“Frances.” Nancy said stiffly. She still stood by what she’d told her husband about talking to his mother, but… she’d nearly forgotten how awful the woman was. barely a minute into their phone call and she’d already felt the need to insult her son. “Do tell why you’ve called?”
“Is it a crime for a woman to want to hear from her own child? Raised him for eighteen long years, I did, and he can't offer a few minutes to call me. Surely you’ve started to understand me, dear.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” she replied pointedly.
“Oh darling, but I’m sure you do,” Frances droned on. “Henry was never good at being present. Never paid attention when I spoke, never knew how to follow directions, always keeping himself at arms length. When he got older, the boy was never home, and then… he was gone. It’s in his nature, you know. To leave.”
It was true, the stuff about presence. Even now, Henry had his moments when he seemed out of focus, or needed space, or distanced himself from people. But he had a right to, didn't he? He was a product of his environment. Living with a mother like that had its effects on people. He wouldn't do it on purpose… right? Of course not. Nancy was his best friend, and he was hers. They would never abandon each other. “I’m afraid I don't know what you’re talking about,” she responded. “Henry has been an amazing husband to me - he just has no interest in talking to you. I don't recommend you call again.”
Nancy presented herself with confidence, but there were cracks in her tone. Frances could hear the slight waver when she lied, could tell that she wasn't sharing the full truth. It was even possible she didn't know she was lying to Frances, as she was doing the same thing to herself.
“Just tell him I called, will you? Tell him his dear mother misses him. And keep in mind what I said.”
Without responding, Nancy hung up. What an unpleasant woman.
“You answered?!”
“Henry dear, how should I have known it was her? she didn't call at her usual time. And it wasn't as if we gossiped , I hung up on her.”
Henry laid his head into his hands, his dinner of chicken and peas forgotten. He sighed, his shoulders sinking. “What did she say.” It wasn't said like a question, even if it was one.
“Not much. I really didn't stay on long, once I knew who I was talking to,” Nancy started. She knew she had to choose her words carefully, to string together a sentence that would hurt Henry the least. “Just complained, as she does. Acted like the world owes her for her hardships.”
“That sounds like her.” Henry let out a soft laugh, not so much out of humor as out of resignation. “You’d think after I left she’d start to realize she’s the problem.”
Words of their conversation played back, unwelcome in Nancy's mind. It’s in his nature, you know. To leave. Something in her felt guilt for the woman. It was obvious she hadn't only meant her son when she’d said that. Henry hadn't been the first to leave Frances, not by a long shot.
Henry continued, resting his arms on the table now. “Remember, Nance, do not let her get into your head. I lived with her for years, I know what she’s like. Don't give her any merit, okay?”
It’s in his nature- “Of course I won't.” Nancy offered him a smile that she hoped looked reassuring. “She didn't say anything worth thinking about anyway.”
Henry smiled back, gently. “I love you.”
It’s in his nature. To leave. “I love you too.”