“Bye, crazy kid.”

She hangs up.

I sit back on my bed, feeling dejected. Already I feel her slipping away, like all the time we spent together, all those nights in her car, were a distant memory that belonged to someone else. I wait to feel sad, but all I feel is a sort of fondness, like my friendship with Shan was from years ago instead of weeks.

And I realize that I had needed Shan for that time just as much as she had needed me, if not more.

But we don’t need each other anymore, and without that, the friendship doesn’t hold much weight.

And I’m okay with that.

Debbi and I are getting closer by the day, and Zeesy even called me the other night, and we had a great conversation while I organized my closet.

Ma, who has been strangely aimless since the wedding last week, pokes her head into my room.

“Naomi? How are you, sweetheart?”

I’m about to throw out a “Fine,” when I look at Ma.

She actually wants to know how I am. It matters to her.

I think of Shan’s mother telling her she can leave, Debbi’s mother not understanding, and I look at my own mother/teacher and mechaneches.

Of all the things I could never have predicted for this year, a newfound appreciation for Ma is top of the list.

But it’s also the one I’m most grateful for.

“Confused,” I say, laughing a little. “But that’s par for the course with being 17, right?”

Ma laughs. “It is, I guess. But you’re doing great, you should just know. I’ve raised many daughters, and you might just be the most mature at this age of them all.”

If Ma had told me that she was secretly a Mossad spy, she could not have shocked me more.

“Reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallly,” I say gleefully. “Can I get that in writing?”

Ma smirks. “How about that stays between us?”

I look at her. “Should we seal this deal with some          fro yo?”

Ma laughs. “Are you asking me to buy your silence? I’m in. Meet you downstairs in five?”

I nod. “I’m excited.”

Ma leaves to get her purse.

“Can I drive?” I call after her.

“Nope!” she calls back.

Ma has a strict rule that she will only get in the passenger seat with one of her children after they’ve driven for five years. It’s a fair rule, but I’m betting that Ma will shorten it for me.  After all, stranger things have happened.

Like Ma and me choosing to go out for ice cream together.

I mean, really. Who would’ve thought?

Truth can be so much stranger than fiction.

And spoiler alert: so much better.

Am I right?

The end

(Originally featured in Treeo, Issue 997)