Small bubbles floated to the top and Heather emptied the box of Kraft macaroni and cheese into the water. The bubbles would really start rolling soon. In the meantime, she looked back at her cell phone sitting on the kitchen island.

She had a few minutes, so she decided to call her son. It rang six times before Casey picked up.

“Hey,” he responded with a gravelly voice that sounded like it was the first time he spoke today.

“Hey, are you feeling okay, sweetheart?”

Casey cleared his throat and said that he was fine. He sounded a little more like himself. She asked if she got him at a bad time and he insisted he was free. Just hanging out.

“How is everything, Mr. Sunshine?” she smiled and took a peek at the noodles in the boiling water. “California is nice?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“How’s the new job going? Still liking it?”

“It’s all right.”

“Don’t try to hide your enthusiasm,” Heather joked. “Do you like the people you work with?”

“I don’t know. I guess.”

“Do you go out with them after work?”

“No, most of them are older.”

“Yeah, so? You can see if they have a trivia team or if they have social events.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“What do you do on your days off? You exploring the new town?”

He cleared his throat again.

“I don’t know. Not really. There’s not a ton really – or, not a ton, uh, to do here.”

“Oh, come on. That’s not true. You’re not just staying home in your apartment, are you?”

He didn’t respond. There were muffled sounds on his end.

“Hey,” Heather said. “Are you getting out? Or are you just staying at the apartment?”

“No.”

“No, to which?”

“What?”

“No, you aren’t getting out? Or No, you aren’t just staying at the apartment?”

“I’m getting out.”

“What do you do?”

“I don’t know. Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know, Mom. Stuff.”

“Do you go to the parks? Are you exercising?”

“I have a gym here, yeah.”

“Do you go to it?”

Heather looked down at the pot and realized she hadn’t stirred the noodles yet. They stayed at the bottom, so she took a wooden spoon and twirled it in the water.

“Sometimes,” he mumbled.

“That’s good. Any pretty girls at the gym?”

“Mom…”

“What? You’ve been there a month now, so you should be able to tell. Are there? Have you seen any pretty girls around town?”

“I don’t know. Kind of. It’s mostly families or old people.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of girls your age. You could try one of those meet up or dating sites. Have you gone on any dates?”

“No.”

The two of them were silent because Heather wasn’t sure how much she should press. By the sound of his voice, her concern meant she couldn’t help but pry.

“You’re not still texting Caitlin, are you?” she asked.

After several seconds, he finally said he wasn’t texting her.

“You gotta move on, Casey.”

“I know. I am.”

“She’s toxic. She’s not good for you and you need to move on. You’ve been gone for a month, it’s time to get on with your life.”

“I know, Mom.”

“I’m serious, Casey. Find a pretty girl and take her out.”

“Yeah okay, I’ll get right on that.”

“There’s nothing stopping you. They would love to go on a date with you and get to know you, but you just have to put yourself out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Have you met any friends yet?”

More silence.

“Hey, have you met any friends yet?” she repeated. “At work or around town.”

“Not really.”

The noodles were down at the bottom of the pot again, and she stirred them. She wished she could see him because it sounded like he was doing something on the other end.

“Are you lonely?” she asked.

He didn’t respond and Heather turned the burner down.

“It’s okay to say that you’re lonely, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know. It’s sorta, uh, I mean, not particu–”

He stumbled through the word particularly.

“Moving to California all by yourself is hard and it will take time to meet people,” she replied. “To meet friends and meet girls. But you need to put yourself out there.”

More silence and the faintest gulping sound.

“Casey?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re drinking.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m not stupid. I can hear it.”

“I’m not. I really am not.”

“You know that stuff doesn’t help, right?”

“I’m not doing – uh, I’m not drinking or whatever.”

“That’s only going to make everything worse. You need to get out of your apartment and explore the world.”

“I know. I’m not doing, er, drinking. I’m – I promise.”

Heather wiped away a tear from her right cheek. Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, she thought. But she couldn’t help it.

“Are you depressed?”

Casey made a mumbling grunt noise.

“Hey, I mean it. Are you starting to have those thoughts again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Casey.”

“I don’t know, Mom.”

“How can you say you don’t know? You either have them or you don’t.”

“I guess.”

“You guess what?”

“I’m kinda having them again. But it’s not that bad.”

“Casey,” she pleaded.

“It’s not bad though. It’s nothing. I promise.”

“I’m so sorry, Casey.”

“It’s not like, uh, you don’t need to overreact. It’s not a big thing or whatever. It’s not even bad.”

More silence. Her closed eyes provided little resistance to the warm tears.

“Are you making your bed?” she finally asked.

“What?”

“Are you making your bed?” she repeated.

“I don’t know. No.”

“Start there. Go make your bed. Right now.”

“I will later.”

“No, do it right now. As you’re talking to me. Go make your bed. And then make it tomorrow morning. And then the next day. And the next day.”

“My bed isn’t the problem.”

“Casey, goddamn it, you need momentum.”

“What?”

“You need to build some momentum. You make your bed right now and tomorrow, and then the next day you can do that and something else. You can put on a clean shirt and pants. Then you can go to church on Sunday. Then you can shake hands with somebody. You can say that it’s nice to meet them. Then you can go walk around the park.”

Casey didn’t respond, but it sounded like he was doing something. Maybe making his bed.

“Then you can pour that shit down the sink,” Heather said. “But you need momentum and it starts with making your bed.”

“Yeah,” he finally muttered.

Another silent standstill.

“Remember sweetheart, even on cloudy days the sun’s still there,” she said into her hand.

“You get that from a pillow at HomeGoods?”

She laughed and sniffled while she wiped away more tears, and she heard the slightest tinge of a laugh on the other end. Heather leaned against the kitchen island and looked out the window.

“Casey, you can always come home. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Everybody misses you and hopes you’re doing okay.”

“That’s nice of everybody.”

“Promise me that if it ever feels like it’s too much, just come home. You can always come home.”

“I know. I know. I should be okay, though. I need to push through.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“I’m gonna go, though. I might walk around the neighborhood while the sun’s still out.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s good. Okay, get some fresh air.”

“I will. Thanks, Mom.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

She heard the sound of the call ending in her ear and clutched her phone into her chest while she cried her eyes out. Nobody was home, so she braced the storm all alone. After two full minutes of crying, she wiped her eyes and looked out the window. Her eyes stung and her heart hurt.

Then she debated if she should look up flights to Los Angeles.