Change In Pressure

DIX-SEPT

               

"How do you know?"

"Well, I was walking up the stairs and saw this – Jane must've dropped it out of the laundry basket" she raised an eyebrow "care to explain?"

I sighed, then took a deep breath. There's nothing I can do now. She knows, and soon she'll know everything. There's no point in lying, because she'll see right through me. I'm terrible at hiding things, and it's my fault that I should've been more careful.

I stared at the floor "He's a boy I know"

"And is this boy just a... friend? Or is there something else you may want to tell me?" I saw her grip on the t-shirt tighten in her anger.

"Well..." I trailed off. I have no easy way of putting it, no way to ease up to telling her – I just have to find the right words.

"Alexandra! Tell me! As your mother I should know who you're having around with, and definitely who you're sharing clothes with!"

I sighed, "fine, you win' I paused "he's my boyfriend"

"What?!" her eyes widened "and when did this happen?"

"We've been seeing each other for just over a month now"

"BEHIND MY BACK?"

"Yes, because I thought you'd stop me from seeing him. And he's the best thing that's ever happened to me mother. He's so nice to me, and so genuine. Please, give us a chance"

"Well, I'll have to think about that one" she folded her arms "and anyway, I've know about him this whole time"

               

"You what?"

"Oh, come on. Did you not expect me to realize?" she laughed "2 cups of coffee in the library, only one of them with a lipstick stain on it, you going stop into that wretched basement, you not eating your full meals and sneaking them down there" she rolled her eyes "And especially that bad attitude all of a sudden, and that weird smell about you"

She knew. She knew this whole time but didn't say anything. Except she doesn't know who it properly was, and I think that's the only thing that remains a secret – apart from his name. Why isn't she mad? Is she okay with this?

"Why did you wait until now to say something?" I asked.

"This is the straw the broke the camels back. I couldn't just punish you without any evidence. Because I know you'd get really over-protective on the subject"

"Well, I am"

She stared at me blankly "I think you should go to your room, and I don't think you'll be leaving the house tomorrow"

"What?!" I said, confused.

"Just" she shook her head "go to your room" she thrusted the t-shirt into my hand, and tottered off down the hall.

Something is up – I can't tell whether she's annoyed, disappointed or happy – her face was just deadpan. I feel like she's holding in her feelings. Either that, or she just doesn't know what to say.

I slumped up the stairs and into my bedroom.

"Dammit" I muttered to myself, as I realized the window had been left open all day, and the room was cold.

I opened my wooden desk draw, and slipped out a sheet of paper, and one of my pens out of the metal pencil pot.

               

Then I flopped down on top of the sheets on my bed, and began writing.

I wrote a bucket list. It's long-ish, it has things on it that will (probably) never happen, and it's the key to my happiness.