With Me | Chris Sturniolo

12.

Jack and I spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out at my house.

My Mom came home not long after Jack woke up, but she doesn't say anything. It's lunch time and we cleaned up, so it didn't look like he slept here. She made some small talk before going to bed as she just got home from work, but I don't miss her glaring at Jack.

When he left, my Mom came downstairs to give me 'the talk'

"I know I'm not home often, Sabrina" she said. "But I have to be able to trust you"

"You can trust me"

"I'm not so sure- parties and staying out late. It seems like your life before we got to Boston" she stared at me. "I can't move again. I can't go through it one more time"

"I'm being careful" I told her. "Being a normal kid is a way of blending in. It'd be just as weird if I hid and didn't talk to anyone"

My Mom's version of 'the talk' had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with her blaming me. We had this argument every time she saw me getting close to someone in a new town. Jack is the first guy friend she's met since we moved.

"On your best behaviour, no messing up, no secret talks, let no one in- you are Sabrina Gold, you can't forget it"

It's the same talk- over and over again.

"Part of me realises you can't not be who you are so I'm glad you're having fun, but-"

"I know, Mom. I can't get close to anyone"

My Mom's face aged disproportionally to her age- the stress of the last year weighing on her and the bags under her eyes never went away. It made me feel terrible, and as she goes on about how I can't trust Jack- even though he's just a friend, he isn't her and she's the only one I can trust.

Deep down, she misses where I grew up. She missed my dad, our old schedule, our normal grocery store we could walk to, the school behind our house, our everyday life. Lately I've noticed her getting into a car with some guy in the drivers seat. Maybe she's dating?

I hate that she has to remind me to stay away from people. I hate how I know I'll never be able to be close to someone like Madison is with Mike.

After hitting the punching bag for hours, I feel a bit better. I take a drink, then steady the punching bag.

I hate him.

I always pretend he is the punching bag.

I hate that I can't be close to people.

I hate that I can't be myself. That I can't get in pictures with Callie and Madison. I hate that I can't let someone in.

As I'm leaving, I recognise another person at one of the punching bags, hitting with abandon. Her technique isn't great, but she's here out of anger and frustration.

When she takes a drink of her water, I tap her on the shoulder. "Sabrina?" Madison furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"Hey, I didn't know you came here"

"Sometimes" she shrugged. "It's a good way to blow off steam, you know?"

"I know" I said, letting out a dry laugh.

She hit the bag again, the chains holding the bag squeaking.

"So, who pissed you off?" I asked, genuinely wanting to know.

She wiped the sweat off her head and turned to face me. "Someone I thought was my brother, but who ended up ruining my life"

I get the hint she wants to be alone, so I leave her be and her words replayed in my mind.