Megan Hart - Switch

could hear the grin in her voice. "Guess where I'm caling

from."

"Paris."

"No, Paige," my mom said as though I'd been serious. "My car! I'm driving to the mal!"

"You're talking and driving? Mom, you do know that's

ilegal in the city of Lebanon. You'd better hang up. You'l

get a ticket!" Not to mention my mom's driving was

haphazard even when she wasn't distracted by a phone.

"You're missing the point, Paige. The point is, I'm caling

you from my own cel phone!"

"Ah." I should've guessed it was something bright and

shiny that she'd caled to tel me. "Congratulations.

Welcome to the milennium."

She ignored my far-from-subtle sarcasm. "Leo bought it

for me. Isn't he the sweetest?"

As boyfriends went, Leo was one of the better ones.

Being older might have been part of it, though with his big

Being older might have been part of it, though with his big

beer bely and long beard there was no question he was as

rough a biker as any guy my mom had ever dated. He stil

rode his Harley to work and sported a line of faded

tattoos on each arm, but he was melower than some of

the younger guys she'd dated.

"That was nice of him."

"So now I can cal you al the time! And text. I can text

you, too, if I can figure out how."

"Oh, joy." I dug into the junk drawer for a pen and some

paper and paused when I puled out the yelow legal pad.

My scant list of flaws and strengths stared out at me, and I

forgot to speak.

"Paige?"

"What's your number?" I put that list aside and poised to

take down the number.

"I.D.K.," my mom said airily.

"Huh?"

"I.D.K.," she repeated. "Geez, Paige. Don't you know

"I.D.K.," she repeated. "Geez, Paige. Don't you know

what I.D.K. means? It means ‘I don't know.'"

"I know what it means. I just didn't think you did. Besides,

Mom, nobody talks like that out loud. It's just textspeak."

"L.O.L.," my mom said.

"M.O.M.," I said.

We both laughed.

"Also, listen," she said, but didn't say anything else.

"I'm listening."

"Guess who I ran into the other day."

"With your car?"

"You," my mom said, "are a smart-ass."

"I.D.K., who'd you run into?"

She paused. I waited for the sound of crunching glass and

metal, but she must've just been puling into a slot rather

than ramming into a phone pole.

than ramming into a phone pole.

"Austin's mother."

Serendipity. It's not just the name of a mildly entertaining

John Cusack movie. "Oh?" I couldn't manage a different

response.

"She said to say hi."

"Uh-huh." As far as I knew, when her son and I had

broken up, Mrs. Miler had been happy to see me go.

"Don't make that face at me, Paige."

"You don't know what face I'm making."

"I'm your mother, I don't need to see your face to know

you're crunching your nose. You're going to get horrible

crow's-feet that way."

"Around my nose?"

"And guess what she said?"

I waited while she dangled further information in front of

me like cheese in front of a rat.

"She says he's moved up there. Where you are."

Wel, at least I'd forgotten to keep staring at the note with

hungry eyes. "Harrisburg isn't a foreign country, you know.

It's only forty minutes away." I tried not to sound sharp,

but failed.

My mother didn't care. When "going away" in the

vernacular of the area means you're taking a trip to the

store, forty minutes was an eternity. I was gone. Anyway,

I'd already known about Austin.

Harrisburg was my place. Not his. He didn't belong here.

He should've stayed in Lebanon, where his family lived

and had always lived and would always live. He should've

stayed there where every street could remind him of me

and he could weep bitter, salty tears at the loss.

"Lemoyne," she said as though I hadn't spoken. "His mom said he got a new job with some big heating-and-cooling

company. He's not doing construction with his dad

anymore."

"Good for him."

"I'm sure I could get his number for you."

"I have his number." She was silent to that, because as far as she knew, Austin and I hadn't spoken since the day I'd

walked out of our apartment.

"Fine. Be that way. I just thought you might like to know,

that's al. He's got a good job."

"Depends on what you consider good."

This time, her silence was longer. "Wel. When did you

become such a snob?"

I sighed. "I'm not a snob. I'm just…trying to change things

for myself. That's al."

There realy was no better way to put it, and no way not to

say it without offending her. My mother had everything I

never wanted. Most parents want better for their kids, and

I know my mom wasn't different. But there's always that

sting when you realize what you gave someone hasn't been

enough, even though it was your best.

"I just thought maybe you might…"

"What?"

My mom cleared her throat, a sure sign she was getting

ready to pretend she hadn't done something to piss me off

when she knew she had. "I just thought maybe he'd seen

you. That's al. Been in touch."

"Stalked me, you mean?" Angry again, I paced the length

of my living room and then around my kitchen table, and

finaly into my bedroom, where I stopped so I didn't have

to make another round. "How could you tel him where I

lived, Mom? You know I don't want to see him!"

"You know, Paige, once upon a time you'd have been mad

at me for keeping him from you."

"Once upon a time was a long time ago," I said.

"I'm sorry," my mother said stiffly. "He caled and asked if I could tel him where you were living. I didn't think you'd

mind. You said yourself you had his number."

"Mom…" I sighed and pressed my fingers between my

eyes to keep myself from completely losing my temper. "If

I wanted him to know where I lived I'd have sent him a

card."

card."

"I'm sorry, Paige." She sounded sincere, but I knew her

wel enough to know she was sorry I was angry. Not sorry

because she thought she was wrong. "I have to go. I'm at

the mal."

"Okay. Fine."

"You know," she said suddenly, "it wouldn't kil you to come back home every once in a while. Arty misses you.

Me, too."

I didn't suggest they come up to visit me. Even meeting

halfway would've taken her out of her comfort zone. "I'l

be there tomorrow night, remember? Taking him to the

movies? Power Heroes? "

"You could come on Friday, instead. Spend the

weekend."

She might be able to know what my face looked like

without seeing it, but I doubt she knew about the shudder

crawling over me at the thought.

"I can't. Busy."

She didn't push it. "Okay. Fine."

We were so alike, sometimes it was scary. Which, of

course, was one reason why I'd moved away. We hung

up.

I stripped out of my clothes and headed into the bathroom,

wishing the conversation could be washed away as easily

as soapsuds down the drain. Growing up, I'd lived with my

mom in a series of low-income-housing apartments, rented

trailers and dilapidated houses owned by men who often

seemed more interested in the way my mom cooked and

kept house than anything else about her. There had never

been enough of anything, but especialy hot water for

showers.

In the best of them, I'd been able to sneak a late-night

shower when nobody else needed to use the bathroom,

the washing machine wasn't running and nobody was

cleaning dishes. In the worst of them, I'd sought the