He waited, perhaps how the moon waited for the sun.
And I chose to ask more of it-of the ceaseless hope we held in our palms. "Give me tonight, please."
"You've got tonight." It was an effortless sentence. A string of words spelling assurance, settl...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
FOUR DAYS HAD PASSED SINCE THE SURPRISE GIFT. Three days had passed since Christmas. Two days since Dad started forgetting about my potential boyfriend, and one day since Mom had stopped bringing it up in every conversation.
Not one day had passed where I hadn't fucking giggled and kicked my feet in the air because of the aftereffects of the letter. That was the level of delusionality I was conceding to.
My self-respect was touching earth's core.
And I wanted to be freed from the shackles of the man himself, but it would still be a couple days before I saw him. I tried to ignore the heaviness in my chest and work on the task at hand, but it was proving to be mighty difficult. Not only was the task the monstrosity of sending application letters to universities, but my brain had also short-circuited.
"Laura!" My mom's voice echoed until I heard knocking. "Can I come in?"
I looked at my room and the mess it was in, slight panic arising in my chest. "Uh. Sure."
Her head poked into the room. A single onceover, and her lips twisted in a scowl I had seen coming from miles away.
"Don't say it," I warned. "I am in a sensitive headspace."
She rolled her eyes before stepping in. Careful with her steps, she placed a bowl of fruit on my desk, then picked up my clothes from the floor and situated them on the bed. "When are you not?" Her hands grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks. "What are you doing?"
My arms moved before I could fathom, covering the screen showcasing a list of colleges. There was no intention; it was reflexive. Still, from the corner of her eyes, I knew she could see. She could tell. And me hiding it from her made her joyful expression fall.
"I could help," was all she offered.
I removed my hand, shutting my laptop screen. "Sorry. I know. I just," I paused. Breathed in deep. "I think I need a day or two before I talk to you and Dad. Is that okay?"
I couldn't justify hiding something this integral from her. Or maybe I could. I just felt consumed by the fear of making the wrong decision, and somebody overlooking that—someone older and wiser and more mature—made me uneasy.
It made complete and no sense all at the same time.
Mom smiled softly. "Of course, bella. I'm always here for you." She rubbed my shoulders. "I know how nerve-wracking it is. Take a break. It'll come to you. You'll figure it out, okay?"
A slow grin crept on my face. I was anxious, yes, but this wasn't a decision I was taking randomly. I had been thinking about it for a while now. I had a list. We'd had career counselling sessions, and not that it had been a great help, I had teachers who liked me enough to want to sit down with me and guide me.
I reminded myself to exhale.
"Besides, it's kind of silly for you to be expected to know everything about your future when you're so young," she waved her hand, eyes crinkling. "I mean, isn't it sort of ridiculous? In your teenage years? Don't make me laugh."
