I didn't want to head back to Aunt Abbi's apartment. I already knew what would be waiting for me when I get back.
Unfortunately there was only delaying the inevitable.
BamBam insisted that I get back to the apartment. I had told him I wasn't on good terms with my mother and he said that I shouldn't add more offenses to that. He was right, and I hated that he was.
BamBam dropped me off at the apartment and so now we stood just outside of my aunt's unit.
"You can do it, Skye," he cheered me on. I didn't express my doubt but made a face. He muttered a quick farewell before walking off.
Just when I thought he was gone, he called my name. I turned around to look at him and he just gave me a thumbs up.
I smiled at the gesture.
He had gone for a minute or so but I was still standing outside of the apartment door. I stared at the doorknob, acting as if it were covered in poison.
After a while, I finally decided to just go inside. What I hadn't expected was my mom acting as if I hadn't just came in.
I thought I woyld just walk past her but her cold voice stopped me halfway to my room.
"You were gone for a while, Skylar." Her back was to me as she was preparing the food to make lunch.
"Uh, yeah. Sorry," I muttered. What else could I have said?
I stood there awkwardly, waiting for her to say something else.
She turned around, forgetting her task before. "Is that all I'm ever going to get from you? I'm sorry?"
"Mom...."
"I'm upset over what you said, but I still worry about you Skye. I don't want you to get hurt," she said.
"Well, I'm fine," I muttered. "You shouldn't have to worry all the time. I can take care of myself."
"That's it. I don't want you to. At least, not yet," she admitted. "You're still here with me. Let me be your mother before you go and leave me. I keep trying to take responsibility. I know I messed up for a few years, but I'm trying Skye. I need your cooperation."
I didn't know I was crying until I felt her wrap her arms around me. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I murmured over and over.
I don't know how many times I muttered that word, sorry. I've said it so many times before but it seemed foreign on my tongue. Sorry couldn't even begin to describe how I felt.
After my parents' divorce, it wasn't only me who had been hurt. I knew mom had it rough, but I focused more on how it affected me. I barely noticed mom for the first two years, she'd been too busy hurting to really pay attention to me. Neither of us knew how to comfort each other. Now here she was, telling me she wanted to make up for it. For years now, she had been trying to reach out to me but I wouldn't let her.
Here we were, trying to mend that broken relationship. Trying to mend what we hid through snarky comments and false smiles. I hadn't realized how much I wished those had stopped until now.
It was so long ago when I had helped mom cook and it was weird when I got to do it again now. This was how we decided to start our renewed relationship, by cooking lunch together.
Just as we were about to start eating lunch, a knock came at the door and mom instructed me to answer it. I did, surprised to see the boy who had left just some hours ago.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"I wanted to see if you were okay," he said almost hesitantly. I smiled a bit, touched that he cared.
