sharkbait \\ h.s

17

I put off calling Harry for two hours. I didn't know what I'd say to him. I figured, "hey, sorry for waking you, my child molester mother who's been in prison my entire life, literally, i was born there, is being executed and wants me to be there to see it", wouldn't sound too pleasant.

When I finally do call, he is asleep.

He answers his phone anyways after three-and-a-half rings, but, much to my surprise, he is very grumpy when woken from his slumber.

His voice is groggy. "Hello?"

"Harry," I say, sounding tired myself. "Hi."

The blankets ruffle in the background. "What do you want?"

"Wow, Harry, it's nice hearing your voice, too."

"Cal."

"I shouldn't have called. Good night."

"Dude," Harry says, slightly annoyed. "You had to have woken me up for a reason."

I hang up the phone.

What was I thinking anyway? That he'd actually just let me come over after he just dropped me off? It's not like I can just tell him what's going on. I can't imagine how weird that would sound if it were coming from him or anyone else.

As I sit on my bed, part of me hoping Harry calls me back, I start to think about how my life would be I had a mother around.

It would've been easier, I think. If I had that support and that love that a mother can give to her daughter, my whole life could've been different. My father, of course, was great growing up, but I feel like I never really got the full experience of growing up.

Everyone I knew had a mom and a dad, and they'd come to school all the time talking about what their parents fought over this time, or what hideous shirt their mom bought for them but they just can't tell her how ugly it is because they don't want to hurt her feelings. I'd go to my friend's houses and see their moms doing things to embarrass their daughters just for a good laugh.

But I didn't have a mom to by me clothes, ugly or not; my mom doesn't even write me letters. Instead of being embarrassed by her actions while my friends are present, I'm embarrassed to be her daughter period.

Harry calls me back while I'm on the verge of tears thinking about how I didn't get to go prom dress shopping with my mother.

"What do you want?" I say when I accept the call.

Harry lets out a long sigh. "Cal, I'm sorry. You obviously called for a reason."

"I did."

"Well. Shoot."

"My mom."

"The child molester?"

Fuck. "Yeah."

"What happened?"

I sigh and look down at my lap, noticing that the seems in my jeans are beginning to separate. These jeans have always been my favorite; they fit me the best. Or used to. "Do you think I'm fat?"

I hear Harry laugh lightly. "No."

"Oh." When I realize I've changed the subject, I quickly recover and begin to inform Harry of the news my father gave me. There is nothing but quiet coming from Harry's end after I finish. "Hello?" Still quiet. "Oh God. I've bored you to sleep now."

"California," Harry says. "You could never bore me. I'm sorry about your mom."

"And the dumbest part is: when I asked my dad why he didn't tell me he's been talking to her, he said that he didn't think I'd want to know."

"Would you have?" Harry asks. "Wanted to talk to her?"

"No," I answer honestly. "But it would have been nice to have had an option."

It gets quiet again for a few seconds. "I'm gonna pick you up, Cal. Be waiting."

"I look disgusting."

"Wear your best pajamas." Ruffling of blankets and squeaking bed springs sound from the background.

-

hellooooo

its been a long time and im sorry but ive been busy with school like my grades and stuff and with family issues so i havent really been writing ... ill post again soon i promise :))))))

thanks for reading love yaaaaa

~mel x