Dialing Yesterday to Save My Mother

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My dad was dead drunk again, drowning himself in cheap whiskey because he missed my mom. That was when his phone started to ring.

I stared at the screen, my heart stopping at the caller ID: Wife.

I froze. Mom had been dead for two years. Her number had been deactivated a long time ago.

Hands shaking, I swiped to answer. A voice drifted through the linefamiliar, yet impossibly distant.

"Hello? Is this Lester, eight years in the future? Guess who!"

She sounded so bright, so sweet. It was nothing like the fragile, raspy whisper the cancer had left her with before she died.

I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered her name. "Helena."

My mom let out a soft gasp, sounding utterly thrilled. "Oh my gosh! Are you... are you Lester's and my baby?"

She lowered her voice to a playful whisper. "I'll let you in on a little secret. This is your mom, twenty-four years old. You're actually in my tummy right now! Three months along!"

I looked at my dad passed out on the sofa, and then around our dark, cold apartment. I couldn't let her go through that hell again. After a long, heavy silence, I forced the words out.

"Lester is my dad." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "But you aren't my mother. My mother is Lydia Pierce. Your best friend."

"Sweetheart, thats not a very funny joke," she said. There was a brief pause, her tone still incredibly gentle. "Did your Aunt Lydia teach you to say that? I swear, even eight years from now, shes still obsessed with practical jokes."

Hearing her call me "sweetheart"a word I hadn't heard in two long yearsI had to clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle the sob rising in my chest. I couldn't let her hear me cry.

"Hello? Are you still there?" she asked.

I took a shuddering breath. "I'm not lying to you. I can prove it. What is the date today on your end?"

She gave me the date. I closed my eyes, my mind racing back through the fragmented memories and the diary entries I had memorized.

"Youre getting married next month, right?" I asked. "And last week, you ordered a custom bridal jewelry set to go with your wedding dress. Its supposed to be delivered today."

My mom gasped. "And you still claim you aren't Lester's and my baby? Look how well you know our story!"

"Youre never going to receive that set," I said quietly. "Because Lydia... my mother... told my dad she loved it. So he had the jeweler send it to her instead. If you call them, the jeweler will claim there was a shipping delay and offer you a replacementone that costs half as much. You won't like it, but Dad will tell you he thinks the cheaper one looks better on you anyway. He'll pressure you until you accept it. The truth is, my mother wanted to prove she mattered more to him than you did."

Silence stretched over the line. I gripped the phone so hard my knuckles turned white, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Finally, she let out a nervous laugh. "You make it sound so real. Fine, I'll call the jeweler and check. But if you're pulling my leg, young lady, I'm calling back to give you a very stern talking-to!"

Relief washed over me. "You can call again?"

"I have three calls total," she said cheerfully.

Two left.

I looked down at my worn-out shoes, telling myself: "Thats enough. It has to be."

"Oh, by the way, you haven't told me your name yet."

"I'm Hazel," I whispered.

My mom laughed. "See? I knew you were mine. I spent weeks looking through baby-name books to pick out 'Hazel'!"

The lump in my throat grew heavier. I swallowed hard and warned her: "When you call back, pretend you don't know my dad. Just ask for Hazel."

"Got it, got it," she said playfully, clearly still thinking this was a game. "Just wait for my call!"

The line went dead with a quiet click.

I stood there for a long time, the phone still pressed to my ear. When I finally lowered my hand, I wiped my tears and quickly deleted the contact name "Wife" from my dads phone.

I knew that once my mom uncovered the truth, she probably wouldn't call back. She would be too devastated, too busy unraveling her life.

But there was still a chance.

Sudden, violent banging on the front door shook me out of my thoughts.

I opened it to find Lydia. Her hair was a mess, her face twisted in a desperate, frantic grimace. She shoved me hard against the wall. "Move, you little parasite!"

She stormed past me straight into my dads bedroom. "Lester! I need a hundred thousand dollars! Now! The loan sharks are going to break my hand if I don't pay them by tonight!"

My dad, barely conscious from the alcohol, let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Not my problem."

Lydia completely lost it, screaming at the top of her lungs. "You promised youd take care of me forever! You're still obsessed with that dead bitch, aren't you? Shes been dead for two years, Lester! You already ruined my face for her! What more do you want from me?!"

My dad sat up, his eyes bloodshot and full of venom. "I want Helena back. I want you to rot in hell for what you did to her."

Lydia burst into a wild, screeching laugh. "Oh, please! Is her death entirely my fault, Lester? Sure, I made sure she walked in on us screwing right there in her father's hospital room. I knew it would kill the old man. But you weren't exactly fighting me off, were you? You enjoyed every second of it. When you were on top of me, did you once stop to think about the doctors warning you that Helenas heart couldn't take any stress?"

"Crack."

My dad lunged forward and slapped her hard across the face. "Get the hell out of my house!"

Clutching her reddened cheek, Lydia stumbled out of his room, panting with rage. But when her eyes fell on me, standing frozen in the hallway, a sick, desperate light flickered in them. She lunged, grabbing me by the throat, and began dragging me toward the front door. "Fine. Ill just hand you over to them instead. They'll take whatever they can get."

For a second, I didn't even want to fight back. What did it matter?

But then, from the bedroom, my dads phone started to ring.

My heart flared. I began thrashing wildly, clawing at her face, digging my nails into her arms. Lydia shrieked in pain, but her grip only tightened around my neck, cutting off my air.

Thankfully, the ringing had drawn my dad out of the room. When he saw Lydia choking me, his eyes went cold. He stormed over and kicked her hard in the ribs, sending her crashing to the floor.

"You never cared about this kid anyway!" Lydia spat, clutching her side as she glared up at him with pure hatred. "Let me do us both a favor and get rid of her!"

My dad didn't even look at her as he murmured, "She is the only thing Helena left behind."

I gasped for air, scrambling up from the floor, and bolted toward the bedroom where the phone was ringing. But my knees buckled, and I went crashing down onto the hardwood.

In that split second of delay, the ringing stopped.

I missed it.

At that moment, the raw pain of my bruised neck, my scraped knees, and the crushing despair of losing my mom all over again hit me at once. I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

My dad walked right past my shaking body, muttering under his breath, "What is wrong with you?"

He picked up the phone and dialed the missed number back. It was just one of his business associates.

I forced myself to stop crying. Shivering, I wiped my eyes and sat quietly on the floor, waiting.

When my dad hung up and saw me still hovering near him, his brow furrowed. "Why are you still standing there?"

He paused, his eyes lingering on my face. A shadow of remorse passed over his features. He walked over to the dresser, pulled a tube of burn ointment out of the drawer, and knelt down in front of me.

Images flashed in my mindof him grabbing me by the shoulders, shaking me violently, screaming that I was a useless piece of trash who couldn't even keep my mother alive. I flinched, my shoulders tensing instinctively.

The cold ointment was smeared onto my cheek, but his words were even colder.

"I'm hiring a housekeeper. Stop trying to cook." He gently rubbed the cream over the raw red scar on my cheek, where hot oil had splattered a few days ago. "If you ruin that facethe only face that looks like hersI will let Lydia take you. Do you understand?"

I nodded numbly.

His phone buzzed again.

I pretended to look away, but my eyes were locked on the screen out of the corner of my eye.

My dad stared at the display, then handed the phone to me, his expression suspicious. "For you?"

Since he hadn't recognized my mom's voice, I breathed a sigh of relief. "Its probably my teacher from school," I mumbled. "Youre busy, Dad. Ill take it outside so I dont bother you."

He shrugged and let me go. I kept my pace steady until I reached the backyard, then quickly pressed the phone to my ear. "It's me."

"What's wrong with your voice?" my mom asked. She sounded incredibly sad, but there was a thread of genuine worry in her tone.

Tears pricked my eyes. "My dad and mom are throwing me a birthday party," I lied, my voice cracking. "I was just screaming and laughing so much that I lost my voice."

"Oh." She paused for a long moment before whispering, "Well... happy birthday, sweetheart."

On the other side of the screen, where she couldn't see me, a huge, goofy smile broke across my face through my tears.

When I was three, my dad had ruined my grandfathers business, freezing all of my moms assets to force her to beg him and Lydia for money. To survive, Mom had to work grueling shifts with her fragile health just to support me and pay for my grandfathers medical bills after his suicide attempt left him with severe brain damage.

We were dirt poor back then, but every single year on my birthday, Mom would scrape together enough coins to buy me a tiny cupcake. She always smiled and said she didn't like sweets, telling me to eat the whole thing. But before my grandfather jumped, he had pulled me aside and whispered that my mom actually loved sweets more than anything. So, I would pout and play coy, refusing to take a bite unless she did. We would end up sharing that tiny cupcake, taking turns until every last crumb was gone.

After she died, my dad brought me back to this massive, empty house. But no one ever remembered my birthday again.

"Do you believe me now?" I asked quietly.

The line went silent for a moment. "That was Lester who answered earlier, wasn't it? Put him on the phone. I need to hear it from him."

I bit my lip hard. "Why? What do you want? My mom and dad wasted so many years because of you. Are you trying to ruin their lives again?"

"I ruined "their" lives?" my mom's voice rose, sharp with disbelief. "One was my fianc, the other my best friend, and they were sneaking around behind my back! Lester claimed he was just feeling sorry for Lydia. Let me guesswith my temper, I probably threw a fit, threatened to get an abortion, and called off the wedding. And then your mother, Lydia, swooped in, got pregnant with you, and forced Lester to marry her because he had no choice. Am I right?"

Hearing her speak with such proud, misplaced confidence made my stomach twist. I was furious, but I didn't know how to lie to her anymore.

"So, kiddo," she continued, her voice softening slightly, "even though it breaks my heart to say this to a child... I'm going to forgive Lester. Which means you are never going to exist."

Panic flared inside me, and my brain scrambled for a way out. "You won't get the chance!" I blurted. "Because my mom doesn't get pregnant with me until tomorrow."

"What?"

"Tomorrow is your mother's memorial service," I said, the words spilling out fast. "Dad is going to lie to you. Hell say he has a major investor meeting and can't go with you to the cemetery. But hes actually going to a hotel with my mom." I quickly rattled off the name of the boutique hotel and the room number.

She gasped. "How... how could a child possibly know that?"

"Because my dad used to read your old diary out loud to us like it was a joke," I muttered.

In reality, he had read it to Lydia, laughing at how pathetic and naive Helena had been.

The silence on the other end was heavy, broken only by her shaky breathing. "Fine," she finally whispered, her voice trembling. "If what you say is true... I will walk away and let your little family be."

"Will you... will you call me back one last time to let me know?" I asked in a small voice.

She let out a dry, exasperated breath. "Fine. Yes. I promise."

The call disconnected. I stood in the yard, staring blankly at the grass.

I hadn't lied to her. Lydia really was going to get pregnant. And three months from now, she would fake a miscarriage during a shopping trip with my mom, claiming she lost the baby while trying to "protect" her.

My mom spent years carrying that crushing guilt, doing everything she could to make it up to Lydia. But Lydia secretly told my dad a different storythat my mom had intentionally shoved her down the stairs. My dad harbored that grudge for years. After he finally seized my grandfathers company, he cornered my grandfather and told him that one of us had to pay for that unborn baby's life. My grandfather, desperate to protect my mom and me, jumped from the top floor of his office building.

Even after that, my dad used my grandfathers mounting ICU bills to torture my mom. He forced her onto her knees in front of him and Lydia, demanding she bow her head to the floor over and over again until they were satisfied. Mom did it, her forehead bruised and bleeding onto the polished wood. But when she finished, my dad just grabbed her by the throat and sneered, "That old bastard always looked down on me. Why the hell would I spend a dime to keep him alive?"

But my grandfather had funded his entire college education and his first start-up. He had always praised Lesters talent; he had only gently warned Mom that their personalities might not be a good fit.

A sharp gust of wind cut through my shirt, pulling me back to the present. I walked inside and handed the phone back to my dad. As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me cold.

"What's this teacher's name?" he asked, studying my face. "Her voice... it sounded just like Helena's."

Panic froze my limbs. "Mrs. Miller," I squeaked out, my voice barely audible. "Shes married."

My dad watched my expression for a second, then let out a harsh laugh. "What are you looking like that for? Some random woman on the phone isn't fit to breathe the same air as Helena." He waved his hand dismissively. "Go on, get out."

As he reached for his drink, his sleeve slid up, revealing his forearm. It was covered in a horrifying lattice of thick, jagged scars. Fifty-six cuts in total. He had carved them into his own flesh after finally discovering that Lydia's miscarriage had been a lie all along. Fifty-six cutsbecause Mom had died on May sixth.

I retreated to my room, crawled under the bed, and pulled out a notebook thick with layers of clear tape. After my dad and Lydia had finished mocking Mom's diary, they had torn it into tiny shreds. I had spent nights digging through the trash, collecting every single piece, and taping them back together. Mom never knew I did this. She died wanting to forget her past, but I only wanted to hold onto whatever piece of her I could find.

On her eighteenth birthday, she had written:

"Lester is such an idiot! He actually worked on a construction site for two whole months just to buy me a birthday present. Hes so sunburnt and has lost so much weight, but he still smiles and tells me its nothing. I love him so much."

At twenty:

"My boy is amazing. Hes only twenty and hes already starting his own company! I knew I picked a winner in high school. Okay, so maybe I threw a little tantrum to get my dad to secretly fund his first round of investors... but Lester doesn't need to know that. I don't want him to feel pressured."

At twenty-four, when she found out she was pregnant:

"I can't believe it! I never thought Id be a mom this early. I guess we need to speed up the wedding planning! Lester actually cried when I told him. He loves kids so much; hes going to be the absolute best father. Thank you for choosing me to be your mommy, my sweet baby."

But just two years later, the handwriting changed. The pen had pressed so hard into the paper it had nearly torn through the pages:

"Why? Why? Why did he betray me? I can't tell Dad. Hell destroy himself trying to protect me, but Lester already controls the entire company now. I cant let him ruin everything Dad built. What do I do, baby? You're still so tiny. Please tell Mommy what to do..."

A tear slipped down my cheek, blurring the faded ink. I clutched the tattered diary tightly to my chest. "Don't be afraid, Mom," I whispered into the quiet room. "Your baby is going to save you."

To make sure my dad didn't leave the house and take his phone with him, I had to make a deal.

"Dad," I said, standing at his doorway. "Can you stay home with me today? If you do, Ill give you Moms diary."

His irritable expression froze. "Her... diary? I threw that in the trash years ago."

I held out the taped-together notebook. He snatched it from my hands, running his fingers over the jagged edges of the pages. He fell to his knees, clutching it to his chest, laughing and crying like a madman.

I left him alone. Back in my room, I squeezed the little rag doll Mom had sewn for me. She used to buy me beautiful, expensive toys, but after we were kicked out of our home, we had to leave everything behind. So, Mom bought scraps of cheap fabric and taught herself how to sew. Her hands had been so soft, but they were always covered in tiny red needle pricks and swollen cuts. I pressed my face against the dolls rough fabric. If saving her meant this doll and I would fade away into nothingness, I wasn't afraid.

I was on the verge of drifting off when the sharp ring of his phone echoed down the hall. On tiptoe, I slipped into the study. It was her.

In the master bedroom, my dad was completely unresponsive, too drunk and hysterical as he wept over the taped pages to notice me taking the phone.

I ran out to the garden, my heart in my throat. "Hello? What happened?"

"You were right," my mom's voice came through, heavy, exhausted, and thick with unshed tears. "I caught them at the hotel. Just like you said." She took a shaky breath. "I'm at the clinic right now. I'm getting an abortion."

A wave of pure, unadulterated relief washed over me. "Thats wonderful! I hope you stay far away from my parents now. Oh, and tell your dad to stop giving my dad money. Because of that investment, my dad gets so busy managing your family's company that he never has time to spend with my mom and me."

My mom gasped, her tone suddenly sharp and furious. "That miserable bastard... he took my fathers company?" She paused, her voice shaking. "What about me? Did I... did I not do anything to stop him?"

I rubbed my eyes. "Well, you tried. But you weren't as smart or as ruthless as my dad." I smiled, hearing her let out a sharp, angry breath. "But don't worry. You end up with a nice man named Henry Lockhart. Youll be very happy with him."

"Henry?" my mom stammered. "How? He... he barely even talks to me."

"Hes been in love with you for a really long time," I whispered. "He just stayed away because you were with my dad."

It was the truth. When I was five, Henry had returned from living abroad and discovered how terrible our lives had become. He did everything he could to look after us. I remember him holding my mom's hands, his eyes filled with pain as he said, "If I had known my cowardice would cost you this much, I would have dragged you away from him years ago, no matter what people said."

When my dad found out, he flew into a rage, accusing my mom of cheating on him back in college. He refused to believe her denials and used all his power to bankrupt Henrys business. Mom felt so guilty, but Henry didn't care at all. He just smiled, took her hand, and happily worked alongside her at low-paying jobs. Over time, Mom fell in love with him. She had even asked for my permission first, and I had been so happy for them.

But before she could tell him how she felt, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. To make sure she could save enough money for my future, she forced herself to say terrible things to Henry to push him away, then crawled back to my dad to endure his endless cruelty.

"Hazel. Who the hell are you talking to?"

My dad's voice shattered the quiet of the garden. I spun around, gasping.

He was standing on the patio, his eyes bloodshot and wild. "Why did I just hear you say Henry Lockhart's name? Who is on that phone!" He took a heavy, menacing step toward me.

On the other end, my mom heard him screaming. "Is Lester hurting you?"

A nurse in the background was already calling her name for the procedure. I knew this was my last chance. I yelled into the receiver: "My dad hates you! He told me to never call a homewrecker like you again!"

"Goodbye!"

I slammed the end-call button.

My dad lunged forward, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me violently. "It was your mother, wasn't it? Tell me! What did she say? Does she miss me? Tell me!"

But mid-sentence, he froze.

I looked down at my hands.

My fingers were dissolving into tiny, shimmering specks of light, floating away into the warm afternoon breeze.