WILEY

"Anna Wiley Stuber?"

"It's just Wiley."

Wiley heard the other girls giggle at the mention of her first name. This had happened every first day of school she'd ever had, every year, for nine years. And for week or so, this new teacher would continue to call her Anna, only to be corrected every time. "It takes me a couple weeks, people! I'll get there; I just have a lot of students." Is there a teacher's hand book that has this phrase in it? It's like every teacher gets together and rehearses stupid teacher phrases like that and, like, "Don't you mean 'may you go to the bathroom?'" Wiley didn't know why things like this pissed her off, they just did. She mused on what it was that made her so surly until the bell rang. Being raised by her father you'd think she'd be very docile, very Zen. Mark Stuber was playful and fun, never took anything too seriously. He was carefree. Wiley had inherited no such trait. She was very no-bullshit, straight to business and sarcastic. Even her grandparents, whose house was her second home, were mild, not fiery, like her. But she was funny and sweet and kind, when she wanted to be. She often wondered where she got it from.

MARY

The flight had been long. Albuquerque to New Jersey was a trip that always made Mary think. About her past, her choices, the future, everything. She thought about Brandi and Jinx, their successes and failures, strides and setbacks. How they went from leaning on her completely, pushing her down with their full weight to treading water on their own, keeping their noses and mouths beyond the surface alone. She thought about her daughter. About her ex-husband. Getting married and divorced all in a course of three months in the seventeenth year of your life is stressful. Finding out you're pregnant, even more so. They had been lucky though, her and Mark. His parents understood, despite their disappointment, and willingly agreed to provide for their son's unexpected daughter. Mary would agree to their terms, leaving her baby in the Stuber's care, to insure a brighter future then that of repeating her mother's destructive cycle. She'd graduate high school; move on to college and advance, eventually, to a high ranking law enforcement position. While it took some convincing, Jinx and Brandi had respected Mary's wishes, keeping a minimal involvement in her child's life. They knew where they were was no place for a child, or even for them. They were present at the proper events; all three of the Shannon women, until Wiley was 4 and Mary left Jersey with Jinx and Brandi following after her. Even then, Mary's encounters with the child were brief, awkward and tense. Her daughter would grow up without her. It was the plan and they had stuck to it for fifteen years. If someone asked what it was that made her suddenly board a plane to New Jersey to visit her estranged daughter, Mary could not provide a straight answer. Mainly because it was probably none of their business but also because she just did not know. Maybe it was her unending curiosity or her need to take care of those her around that had finally done her in. Maybe it was the countless families she helped to rebuild every day that made her wonder about her own. Or maybe it was the simple fact that something was missing. Someone. She had Raph. She had Marshall. A great, good-looking boyfriend, an even better best friend. She had a fulfilling job she loved and her hands full with her newly-sober mother, a time bomb in Mary's eyes, and scatter brained sister. And yet she still felt a void.

WILEY

"Just open, sweet Jesus!" Wiley screamed, bringing her fist down on her locker.

"What seems to be the trouble here, ma'am?" Wiley looked up to see what asshole was getting in her face now. Her expression softened when she saw Maddy. She should have known. With the exception of her best friend, who she met in the 3rd grade, when he asked her to be on his team during a game of playground kickball, people didn't usually talk to Wiley. She was private and stand-offish most days and when she wasn't, she was biting and witty. People didn't take well to this. By the way, she totally won that game of kickball for the team. No, people didn't take well to Anna Wiley Shannon. Except for Maddy. "Public school lockers! That's the trouble!"

"Did you do the combination right?" She threw her best friend a what-the-fuck-do-you-think look before turning her attention back the culprit. "36, 32, 17! I'm right! It's the locker that's having issues. Not me."

"You aren't doing a full circle."

"What?" Wiley hissed.

"You do '36', '32', full circle '17.' You forget every year." The door swung open and a goofy grin spread on Maddy's face.

"I'll kill you."

"Dually noted," he said, lifting her bag out of the locker and onto her shoulder. He knew better than to try and carry for her.

As they headed out to where their parents would meet them to bring them home, past the cool seniors and juniors who would be driving themselves and the kids moseying to detention, they discussed everything, like always. Wiley bitched about the soccer practice she'd had earlier that morning and how the coached had sentenced the entire team to 40 suicide drills to make up for last week's loss. Maddy told her about his developments in getting Kristy Machullan to notice him during 3rd period Spanish. "She asked for a pencil and I gave her one and I tried to be smooth and say 'you're welcome' in Spanish but then I got nervous said it before she said thank you so I just seemed like a total dick." Wiley laughed at her sweet, sweet friend while wondering if Mark would forget to pick her up again. "Oh, Mads, I wouldn't sweat it. She's not even that great."

"Wiley, you can't not like someone because of how they spell their name!"

"Who spells 'Christy' with a 'K', Maddy? I mean really! It's ridiculous and to be honest, it makes her seem like a real tool." Maddy smiled at his stubborn friend.

"So, plans for tonight?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Well, I want to stay close to home in case Mark needs something, which he will." She said, for the umpteenth time. "But if you want to come over later we can watch Dog the B-"

"No, Wiley!"

"Fine. You can pick what we watch." She agreed bitterly, knowing she had picked the last three times and he hadn't even fought her. They usually had a rotation, I go, you go, I go and so on. But it didn't really matter because no matter what was happening on the screen they always had their attention turned on each other. "But no Jane Austen movies, Madeline."

"Fine." He laughed. "Hey, who's that blonde lady leaning on your dad's car with him?" Wiley followed her friends gaze, expecting to see another new girlfriend, shallow and transient, until her eyes stopped on the subject at hand. She had seen her before, in pictures, distance, blurry memories and stories. But she had never been more than that. Never been more than a phone call, a post card, an email. A memory. It was her mom.

MARY

Mark was late picking her up, of course. But for some reason she didn't mind. A part of her wanted this wait outside of the airport to last forever, the desperate cabbies and frantic travelers amongst the smog and exhaust. To avoid what was to come in these next few days. When her Ex finally showed, a wave of nostalgia and regret washed over her. He still drove a beat up Chevy pick-up and he still drove it like he stole it. There was only one, subtle difference. It was small and the only other person that would've noticed it would be Marshall. It was a bumper sticker, small and silver, in the form of a girl kicking a soccer ball with the words 'Proud Parent of a Varsity Soccer Player' printed beneath. She felt pride, for a second and then instantly scolded herself. You had nothing to do with that, Mary Shannon. You were not there. Not for a single try-out, practice or game.

"Hey there!" Mark called, as he jumped out of the red truck (after jamming it into park with much difficulty), smiling. After a long hug that Mary hated, Mark grabbed her bags, despite her protest, and threw them in the back of his truck with a thud. "Ready to go?" Mary nodded but didn't move right away. She took him in, how he was now. He had bald slightly, on the top of his head; he still had the eyes and mannerisms of the 22 year old man she'd married fifteen years ago. "You look just the same." She breathed. She hadn't meant it romantically. It scared her. It meant that he hadn't changed, that he raised their daughter recklessly, like he'd done everything else. She hoped she was wrong, but she usually never was. "Aw, thanks Mary! You don't look so bad yourself." He said, breaking her from her thoughts, a playful smile on his lips. "Shut it and let's go." They loaded into the truck and drove off, leaving the travelers, the smog. "I hope you don't mind, we have to go pick up Wiley from school." Mary froze in terror. She knew it was why she came here, to know her daughter but she hadn't expected it to be so rushed. She couldn't do this. Not now. Everything in her body was telling her to run. What are you going to do? Toss yourself out the door of this moving jalopy? Mary seriously considered this option. No. You will not run. Not again. You have to do this for you. For Wiley. "Wait. Wiley?"

"She doesn't let anyone call her Anna. Ever since she was five." Mark laughed. Mary stared at her hands, mouth open. Every letter, email and phone call she had called her daughter Anna and she never protested. Why hadn't she corrected her? Why did she even want to be called Wiley? Mark sensed her confusion. "She's just not an Anna. You'll understand when you meet her."

"I've met her before." Mary said defensively. The words left her mouth without permission.

"No- no I know. It wasn't what I meant." He back-peddled. For the rest of the ride Mary was quiet, half listening to Mark's ramblings about his newest business venture or crazy night out. Mostly she was thinking. Thinking about Anna. Thinking about Wiley.

They pulled up to the school. Mary saw her instantly. She saw her through the seniors and juniors, the jocks and the nerds, the teachers and hall monitors. She wore a big gray t-shirt with a black silhouette of Marilyn Monroe that hung on her skinny frame. Her wrists were bare except for a single chain with a pendant hanging from it. Mary knew that too, instantly. It was a gift from Jinx, given through tears upon the thought of losing her first grandchild to another family, the day she was born. Mary wore the same one around her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to forget her mistakes, her guilt. I did what was needed. The Shannons are no good. Under her t-shirt, Wiley's legs, muscled from years of soccer, were clad with black leggings. Her shoes were converse knock-offs, maroon, with dirty laces. Her hair was her fathers, chestnut brown and down to her waist in delicate waves. But her eyes, Mary saw, even from her distance, were Shannon. Green, fierce and curious. Sad. She saw her daughter's body tense at the sight of her and felt her own body do the same.

The drive home had been the oddest thing Wiley had ever experience. After awkward introductions and small talk the family-of-sorts loaded into the car and headed home. Mark rambled on about how Mary came to visit for a little and that they would all have a lot of fun together. As if her arrival was random or strange but routine and expected. Wiley sat, lost in thought. Mary sat, lost in thought.

I cannot believe she's here.

I cannot believe I'm here.

What is she doing here?

What am I doing here?

What does she think? That she'll show up and we'll insta-bond and be the best of friends? Like, does she think this is the beginning of a Gilmore Girls episode?

What did I even think? That we'd frolic around like those Gilmore Girls and forget that I gave her up, fifteen years ago?

This is-

-a mistake.