"Young love tends to be based on nothing but feelings. The couple has not yet faced and overcome a challenge or difficulty together. They are passionate about each other. They think about each other constantly and want to spend all their time"
Isaac...
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It was just another basic day of waking up for school. Honestly, probably one of the worst things ever — well, other than all the other shitty stuff going on in my life. But maybe school wasn't that bad.
It was the waking up part I hated.
I dragged myself out of bed, showered, got ready, and headed downstairs. The part I dreaded most wasn't even school. It was having to look my mother in the eye every day like she wasn't actively ruining my life.
But lately, I'd decided not to talk about her in a bad way anymore — at least not out loud. It was just making it harder to be happy, and I didn't want to keep carrying that weight. Her divorce wasn't mine. I wasn't going to let her ruin another thing for me.
When I got downstairs, she was already about to walk out the door. Sometimes she left first, sometimes it depended on how long I took to get myself ready.
At the entrance table, there was a box that caught my eye.
"What's that?" I asked, making her glance up from the stack of mail she was sorting through.
"Don't know. Your dad sent it. It's for you." She went back to the mail like she didn't care, even though I knew she did.
That's how my mom worked. If she wasn't speaking to someone, she expected everyone else to fall in line and hate them too. Kinda hard, though, when the person she was talking about was my dad.
I picked up the box and opened it. Inside was a necklace — one of those fragrance ones with herbs tucked inside. It was honestly beautiful. It made me smile, which was rare these days.
My dad was always more affectionate than my mom. I never knew why. I couldn't even tell you the last time she showed me a sliver of affection. But my dad? He always did little things like this.
"That's pretty," she said, her voice edged in bitterness. Of course she was bothered. This was my dad's quiet way of reminding her that when custody came up, he'd win.
"Yeah. Can you put it on?" I asked, holding it out to her. I might've done that on purpose — just to get under her skin.
But she didn't even flinch. No emotion on her face. She took it, fastened it around my neck, and went right back to what she was doing.
"I'm leaving. I'll be home late. Just... don't get in trouble," she muttered as she grabbed her bag and opened the door.
'Just don't get in trouble.' That's all she ever cared about.
"Yeah, whatever," I mumbled under my breath, heading into the kitchen.
Sometimes it got exhausting — pretending it didn't bother me. I didn't know what happened to her to make her so cold and careless. Now that I think about it, I don't remember her being affectionate with my dad either. Or anyone. It was like she wasn't capable of it.
