The Bus Stop

22: Unexpected

  A/N: Song attached is: Like I'm Gonna Lose You, by Meghan Trainor and John Legend.

-

  There were only two people in the kitchen but I still felt suffocated.

  The abundance of clutter in our tiny kitchen wasn't exactly helping matters.  Notebooks and files were stacked in the most random of places—on top of the microwave, underneath the sink cupboard and some were even wedged in the gap between the fridge.  I didn't even have to look at them to know that they belonged to my mom.  With her owning a law firm in central town, she was always working while still managing to find the most strangest of places to store her cases.  Honestly, it was a wonder none of her notes had been mistaken for a placemat or a tissue by now.

  And if that wasn't enough, she seemed to be completely hypocritical when it came to mine or Josh's mess.  If I was in the middle of completing my math homework and left my papers out on the dining room table for a minute as I retrieved a glass of water, mom would go ballistic and start lecturing me on the importance of organisation. 

  I was interrupted by my squishy thoughts when mom placed a steaming mug right under my nose.

  Tea.  It was clear mom hadn't taken the time to glance at the daily weather forecast today or even as simply realizing that the stuffy air was beyond hot.  A warm beverage was the last thing I felt like, especially if it came from a person who had very little cooking skills, but I took it nonetheless with an appreciative nod.

  I wasn't particularly angry at my mom anymore.  After last night had gone down in a whirlwind of heightened emotions, I found myself feeling slightly more cheery this following afternoon.  Whilst I wasn't finished discussing the whole college thing, I was willing to act fairly towards my parents in the mean time.

Considering today was the rival game for the Varsity soccer team, the entire school got the Monday off to prepare for it. I didn't particularly plan on going today, not being on the best terms with Max meant I was planning to ignore him at all costs. Going to a place where he was certain to be wasn't really the best idea for either of us.

"Listen, Clara," my mom spoke, causing my head to look up from my tea and catch sight of her cautiously peering down at me, her own mug sitting on the table, "I've thought about everything that you said yesterday and I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry, I know I was wrong."

  Wrong was not the word I would've used to describe her previous actions, but nor was it right.  Except regardless, I wasn't about to argue with my mom the first time she attempted to make an effort.

I frowned, for I couldn't remember the last time my mom admitted she was wrong or apologized to me for that matter.

"It's fine mom," I reassured her, "you don't have to explain my college plans any longer, I get it.  Community college in September—"

  "Forget about community college and becoming an accountant, I'm ready to listen about what you want."  For the first time in a long time, I felt myself genuinely smile at her words. 

  I had spent a vast majority of my high school and middle school years—and though I didn't like to put it this way— practically competing for my mother's attention.  With my father in rehab, mom turned her sole focus from her family to her work.  She spent extra hours at the office working on different cases, offering to work Sunday's for extra pay and suddenly, just like that, her old life was almost completely forgotten.

  Partly the reason I think mom spent so much of her time putting my life together was because she was afraid I'd end up like her.  I figured that in her eyes, becoming an accountant and staying close to a place very familiar, she would be able to make sure my upcoming life was perfect. Except, although deep down I was grateful for this, it wasn't at all what I wanted  Staying was never the answer, it was leaving that would bring me the life I not only dreamt of, but needed.