I'm 16, jacketless (youthful vanity), and alone in a car park. It's cold. The wind prickles my neck. The concert is over; the audience has scattered. She's not picking up. I cross my arms for warmth, simultaneously attempting to appear unbothered. There’s a yell from behind me, followed by a loud clang. I flinch, sneak a peek. Two guys are fumbling with an amp. I take a breath. I’m not alone. I try her again. Nothing. “It’s midnight and Cinderella is about to get murdered,” I think. Then I see the headlights. She’s here. My mother. She didn’t forget me.
Olga Grudinina is an avid reader, writer, traveler, and dog lover. She has been published in The New York Times and Journal of Marketing Management.