After experiencing a life-altering tragedy, Emersyn feels as if her world has collapsed. Attempting to accept her new reality, Emersyn wonders how she can possibly keep going when it feels like her life ended months ago. Until she meets Haven, and s...
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"I was thinking of making dinner Friday night," Mom says out of the blue.
I glance up from my notebooks, as I have been studying in the kitchen. I furrow my eyebrows at my mother's statement, exhaling confused laughter as I murmur, "Um . . . okay?"
"And I was thinking you could maybe invite Haven," Mom adds on after a brief pause. Her eyes are expectant as she takes a long sip from the mug in her hand to avoid answering the questions she undoubtedly knows I am about to hound her with.
I set down the pen in my hand, too freaked out to think clearly. "For what reason?" I manage to ask finally.
Inviting Haven into my home feels like a ludicrous thought. It is always her house we hang out at, and this is just a ritual that has gone unspoken between the two of us. I don't know exactly why I don't want to bring Haven here. Maybe because I don't want her to see Dad's belongings and ask questions about why my father is not around. Maybe because I don't want my mother to scare her off with her crazy personality. Or maybe because I don't want her to see through the facade of this pretty new house and into the reality of my broken home. No matter the reason, allowing Haven insight into my personal life is something I have carefully tried to avoid, and so far I have been pretty successful in doing so.
"Because," Mom starts off, her tone pleading as her voice rips through my thoughts, "she's clearly important to you. I see how happy she makes you, Em. Even if you think you're good at hiding things from me, you're not. I literally created you. I know you better than you may think."
I want to scoff at this. Surely, Mom cannot expect me to take her seriously. There are loads of insults I could throw her way right now, like if she knows me so well then where was she when I was mourning the loss of my father? Why did she lock herself away and drink herself nearly to death when I was already experiencing and grieving the loss of one parent? Why couldn't she see how badly I needed her in those moments?
However, I know better than to voice these thoughts. I know Mom is trying, and if I have chosen to forgive her then there is no use in holding the past over her head.
Instead, I say, "It's not like we're . . . dating. We're just . . ." I trail off, unsure of how to describe what Haven and I are to one another. She has confessed to having feelings for me, and we've kissed more than once. But things haven't really gone any further than that. I long for more, but becoming serious with Haven would mean having to be vulnerable. I can't truly have much of a relationship with her if I'm not willing to open up and allow her to know who I really am. I don't think I'm ready for such a thing. Telling Haven the truth seems too scary, because what if she realizes that I'm too much? I can't lose her. Not when she has been the only thing that has given me a reason to keep going lately. She is like the moon to my dreary night sky, the only source of light guiding my path.
Mom rolls her eyes in an amused manner at my former remark. "I don't care what you are. I've seen the way you look at her. And I see those smiles you get whenever you're typing away at that phone of yours. That's enough for a mother to know something's going on."
