Don’t Call Me Mom Novels & Stories

I muttered, surprised by the unexpected call. The phone's shrill ring shattered the peaceful silence, and a jolt of surprise shot through me. Staring at the screen, I saw my mom's name flashing – a name synonymous with both love and... well, let's just say lively conversations. We hadn't spoken since our last epic disagreement about visiting her. Look, I loved my mom, but dodging Grandma's not-so-subtle hints about grandchildren was getting exhausting. Maybe this time, a fruit basket would suffice? With a mix of trepidation and a silent prayer for a non-baby-related conversation.

That morning, I receive a call from my mother. We have a no news is good news type relationship, so when I see the voice mail on my phone I'm immediately on edge. My parents are the type of people who shouldn't have had kids. They had kids because that's what you do, but they basically stopped raising us the moment their careers took off.

I can't believe he called mom on me. I have no choice but to accept the phone and take what I know is coming. I only have myself to blame, after all. "Hi, Mom." "Oh no... don't you dare 'hi, Mom' me, William Levi Adams. What on earth were you thinking? No, stop, don't tell me... you were thinking with the wrong head, clearly," she yells at me. When Mom uses my full name, I know it is very bad. "I am so disappointed in you, young man."

“Jeremy, who’s the one making a scene here? While I was away on business, you brought your little fling into our home and had our son call her ‘Mom’! And now you want me to just let it slide? Dream on!” Taking a deep breath, I tried to keep my emotions in check before delivering the final blow. “Jeremy, we’re done. Let’s get divorced.” Dan immediately started sobbing. “Mom! Mom! You can’t leave me and Dad!” He wailed, “Auntie Shannon said if I called her ‘Mom’ when she picked me up from school, she’d buy me my favorite toys! Wahhh!” Shannon looked pitifully at Jeremy. “Jeremy, it’s not what you think… I just wanted Dan to feel like he had a mother since he’s been missing his real one for so

Paul chuckled. The honest truth was, sure, in my late teens, I was a bit of whore, but lately I want more. I want a connection. I wanted love. I realized my phone was still in airplane mode and reached into my pocket. As soon as I put it back in regular mode, it went crazy with notifications. Great, my publicist, fifteen missed calls and three voicemails — one message from my mom. I, of course, dialed my mom. “Hey, Mom,” I said, smiling. “Dante Kenneth Berkley,” My mom said sternly. Shit. What did I do?

With trembling fingers, I pulled it out. I called Father. Voicemail. Mother. Voicemail. Sebastian. Voicemail. Adam. Voicemail. In the desperation, I remembered that Dr. May had given me her number before I left the hospital. She was too perceptive not to notice—no one had signed my waiver, and no one had come to pick me up. She must have sensed that I didn’t have anyone I could rely on. So she gave me her private number. But before I could dial it, a message popped up on my screen.

Bronson opened his mouth to talk but the ringing tone of my phone cut in again, interrupting our conversation and drawing our attention. I stared back at the screen, the same name flashing as the caller ID…. Madam Calantha. I angrily switched up my phone and turned to find the curious face looking at me. “Why are you not picking?" “Not necessary," I shrugged it off, honestly I am not ready for Madam Calantha’s tantrums. Mom can be a pain in the ass at times.. well, not sometimes but every damn time. She always wants things her way. Those calls smell trouble and I already know what she is up to. Mom never attended my birthday party since I got married to Victoria.

“Mom.... what's up?” “Good heavens, Meeky. Nothing's up.” Yep. She's doing it again, and there's definitely a reason she called me. Once Mom calls me by my nickname.... the one she gave me, my resolve crumbles, and she knows it. “Mom, you just called me by my nickname.” I say, and she chuckles. Like, she actually chuckles. “Stop being a baby and just come by, okay? Bring me my favorite fruits when coming. We’ll eat and talk.”

“Very well. Call her. Either way, I don’t care what you do, all that matters is I leave here with my money.” “You bet!” I quickly grabbed my phone and dialed my mom. The call rang out four times before she picked up. “Hey, baby!” “Mom!” I cried. “Where are you?! There’s some…some guys here saying you owe them money!” “Sweetie what’s that?! I can’t hear you! The connection is terrible!” “Mom! Please! What’s going on?!” “Your voice is breaking baby! I’m sorry I’ll call you back okay?!”

"But right now, we need to find her." "If the paparazzi get to her before we do..." "They'll tear her apart." She went quiet. "I'll help." The call ended. Dad called next. I declined it. I didn't have the patience for one of his lectures. Then Mom. She called once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth call... I answered. "What is it, Mom?" "Called to taunt me?" "You were right, you warned me." "Can you please give me a fucking break? Do this later,"