Cursive - By Phoebe Lane Page 0,30

and call her mom back.

Rip the Band-Aid off.

Aislynn sat outside on the deck, thinking the scenery would provide some relaxation. Her teeth were already grinding and the tension was building in her shoulders, something that happened any time she interacted with her mom. She then remembered Christopher and the possibility of seeing him again out there on the beach, and the tension officially tripled.

"Screw him. I'm not hiding," she said to herself and lay down on the deck lounger. She dialed the number, but it only rang once before Pam picked up.

Not a good sign. Here we go.

"Hi, Aislynn. I call and you never pick up. I swear it's like you don't want to talk to me. And don't say you've been busy, unless you plan to tell me what is supposedly keeping you so tied up. You've been on an extended vacation for almost a year," Pam said all in one breath.

This must be a record. I haven't even said one word yet, and she's already beaten me down.

"Good morning to you, too, Mom."

"Well? Why haven't you called me back?" Pam asked with obvious exasperation.

"You do realize it's like six in the morning here, right?"

"I called you last night, and you didn't answer my call either."

"I didn't have my phone with me."

Pam didn’t answer, apparently expecting further explanation, but only getting silence in return. "How are you?" she finally continued.

"Fine."

"What have you been doing with yourself lately?"

"Not much."

"How's the new place?"

"It's nice." Aislynn could sense her mom's frustration escalating.

"Do you like San Diego?"

"Yeah."

Pam finally lost it. "Could we please have a normal conversation where you answer with more than one word sentences? I thought psychiatrists were supposed to know how to talk to people," she said, adding the last part under her breath.

"I can't believe you would say that to me," Aislynn said with obvious hurt and anger. The anger was also directed at herself for falling into the trap once again. It wasn't the first time Pam had taken a jab at her abilities as a psychiatrist, or everything else for that matter.

"Oh, please. There you go again, taking everything personally." Pam's dismissal of her feelings only served to infuriate Aislynn even more.

"You know what? Forget it. You called several times. It must be urgent, so what is it?" Aislynn barked, standing up from the chair and pacing around the deck.

"Ellie said you were out on a date," she said coldly.

Pam’s words absolutely stunned her, but Aislynn didn't believe for one second that Ellie would've disclosed that information. Not that she needed to hide things from her mom at her age, but she certainly didn't want to talk to her about Jace yet.

"I'd rather not talk about this now. Was there something else you needed?" Aislynn asked, in a rush to end the conversation.

"So, you're going to forget about Christopher now? For some guy you don't even know?"

"Okay, Mom. I'm gonna go now."

Aislynn was livid. She noticed Jace was already on his way back to the house, and she didn't want him to see her that upset…again. It would warrant an explanation she didn't feel prepared to give. She quickly went inside, locked herself in the guest bathroom to splash some water on her face, and attempted to regain control of herself.

Jace was busy making breakfast in the kitchen, but couldn't help feeling worried. There had been two different times in the past twenty-four hours where Aislynn appeared to be distraught—the first time had been at the beach before they'd left on their date, and the second time had been that morning while he was out jogging. She had clearly tried to hide it from him both times.

Aislynn returned to the living room ten minutes later, looking a bit more collected, but still distracted.

"Coffee?" she asked him, while absentmindedly standing in front of his very expensive and very complicated coffee machine.

"Sure, but…" Jace observed as Aislynn put the beans on the grinder, and then weighed twenty-one grams of coffee into the portafilter. She was still lost in thought and her actions were almost robotic. "Aislynn, that machine…" He paused again, watching as she tamped the coffee grinds perfectly, and then pulled the espresso shots in exactly twenty-seven seconds. "How did you—"

"Where's your steaming pitcher?" Jace pointed to the cabinet on top of the machine and stared at her in awe. "What?" she finally said after noticing he was gawking at her.

"So you're a doctor, a writer, and a barista?"

"No. I'm an ex-doctor, a wannabe writer, and a coffee