Clementine had become a wild child. Born in America but raised abroad, she now had little regard for the expectations of high society. But her reckless ways eventually catch up with her when she is kicked out of college in New York City and forced t...
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Her mother din't talk to her for the rest of that evening.
She was a little bit shocked, actually. Expecting an explosion or something of the usual sort.
She was also sure that she was going to talk to her father about this. She didn't.
At least not yet.
It was only later in the evening, that Clementine stumbled upon her mother on the terrae. The blue light silhouetted her, and made her look like she had an aura around her.
She was smoking, and seemed a little aloof. A little outside of herself.
Clementine had to stop in her tracks, feeling a bit taken aback. Her mother, always so composed, was having some sort of existential crisis herself. And it was then that Clementine saw so plainly the woman in her.
Clementine took a few steps towards her mother, who was leaning on the balcony, didn't turn back to look at her. But she must have heard her, because soon she said,
"You think that boy will ever love you?" She drawled a bit, obviously having had something to drink.
"What?" Clementine wasn't sure how to approach this situation so she just stayed in place, frozen to the ground.
Finally, her mother turned around, and now with her elbows against the rail, she peered into Clementine's eyes.
"You think he's ever going to love you the way you want him to? You think he will ever stay?These boys," she said, waving her hands around at some invisible entity in the midst of the smoke, "and I say boys because that's what they are - they are not men - are forever on the run. And they never take you for the reasons you wish they would. They use you," a drag, "and then discard you."
"How do you..." Clementine began, but not finding the words, gave up on saying anything. It occurred to her then that maybe her mother did have a past before her father.
"How do I know? How do I know it's a boy? Because," now she took a few steps towards Clementine and she could smell the vodka on her breath, "I was once your age. Don't think me so simple, Clementine."
Then walking past Clementine, she took a few steps and paused, turning her head to say, "I tried to stop you. I wish I could help you, but you're too far gone. So go, but remember my words when you come back running."
Clementine couldn't sleep. There was no way she could sleep. Not sure if it was from rewiring her sleep cycle the night before, but it was clear that she brought something up in her mother that was supposed to be buried for a long time.
The night cicadas ringing through the night in her garden didn't help.
Her mind was racing. Was she really too far gone?
Not again. Or maybe it didn't stop. Maybe coming home from New York did not mean that yesterday could be erased.
She was losing control, and she knew it. She could feel it slipping out of her grip. Between her feelings for Zico and her own need for control, she knew that she was at a point of no return.
Her mother was right. So if the only way out is through, how does she get through this?
