having to go to work the day after my day with hermela was very unfortunate especially since it had been fairly slow today.
now that i'm home, i peel my clothes off of my body and get dressed into more comfortable ones. as i sit down on my bed to relax, i hear a knock on the door.
"come in."
in comes my mother, "hey jamie."
lately, i've been too busy actually living my life to interact with my mother. while we only talk about surface level things, i do feel a little guilty that i haven't seen her much. maybe one of these days we could go out and try to talk things out.
"hey. how have you been?"
her face looks a bit surprised and that may be because i rarely initiate conversation, "i've been pretty good. just going to and from work, but it's pretty peaceful. i know you've been going out more. that's good. i'm happy you're enjoying yourself, because you always struggled with letting yourself go." she seems to be rambling.
"yeah," i nod slowly.
did she decide to randomly come in my room to talk about my crippling anxiety?
"your dad wants to-"
"i don't care," i pause, then face her directly while trying to keep my anger in a ball, "and you know what, i thought you really wanted to bond with me but you're too busy kissing his ass to even care really care about what i've got going on."
"you watch your mouth when you're speaking to me," her voice shakes, but her face still remains stoic, "now what the hell do you want from him, from me? you're angry when he keeps his distance, you're angry when he lets you in, you're angry no matter what. you're never satisfied."
tears are burning my eyes, threatening to spill down my face, but i will myself not to cry.
i'm so tired of talking about this with her and having her lecture me about this shit every time we talk. she never wants to see it from my side and only takes his. i'm her daughter. why can't she try to understand me?
"jamie?"
"mom," my heart is racing, my throat is clogged with tears, my face is burning as i struggle to get my words out, "sometimes i wish you had the same energy that you have taking up for him as you could for me. you're always taking his side. you can't even see through his bullshit!"
tears are prickling down my face, but i still go on, "he left you to be with a man and you still can't see that he doesn't give a damn about you."
"get out."
huh?
"i said get out!"
she stares me down like i've completely betrayed her which is ironic to say the least.
there's no way in hell that she's kicking me out right now. because she can't handle the truth? because she's so far up his ass she can't even see what he's putting her through?
i shoot up from my bed, my phone in my grip as tears continuously stream down my face, " i can't believe you're picking him over your own daughter."
i grab my car keys off my desk, then slipping on my shoes before letting myself out of my room and out the front door.
the moment i'm sat in the driver seat of my car, i immediately break down into tears the way i've been needing to for months now.
my mom and i have always had a rocky relationship, but not once have i ever thought that this day would come. the day where she would kick me out over an argument, an argument about a man that just up and left one day. the man that hasn't been able to face neither of us in half a year. the same man that got engaged not long after his disappearance.
growing up, my father and i were two peas in a pod, so to be feeling the way i am on this day feels bizarre. he was my best friend.
i use my palms to rid the tears from my eyes so i can see clearly before i reach for my phone. i dial up brandon's number and place the speaker to my ear. after the second ring, the line picks up.
"hey jay. how you been?"
i clear my throat so it doesn't sound like i've been bawling my eyes out, "not that great. my mom just kicked me out."
"what the fuck? come over, i'll leave the door open."
the corner of my mouth twitches. he's always been there for me.
i nod, "okay."
on the way to his house, i work hard to gather myself. to stuff my feelings back so he'll think i'm taking things well. i hate people seeing me this way, broken and sad. he's my best friend and he's seen me at some of my worst times, but i don't want him to think that i'm back where i used to be. i don't want him to worry.
so when i open the door and he shoots up from the table before pulling me in for a tight embrace, i'm angry at myself for losing it. i sob violently into his chest while i grip at his ribbed tank top and he holds me tighter.
it feels like everything i've done to build myself up over the past year has amounted to nothing. with just one bad day i'm back where i'm started. in the back of my mind, i try to reassure myself that a bad day doesn't erase all of my hard work. that i'm allowed to feel my feelings and be angry or sad or occasionally depressed.
it's not your fault. it's not your fault. it's not your fault.
except it is. like everything else.
his arm is wrapped around my neck, while his other hand rubs my back in soothing circles. his shirt is wet with my tears now, as they flow down my cheeks in never ending streams. tears i've held back for way too long, i allow out during this time, because i don't get many moments to just cry.
"i know jay, just let it out."
