Misalignment | ✔

right

Matty and I
don't go back
to school
until the Monday after
the holiday.
On Saturday,
my mother has
an executive of
the company
she works for
to meet with,
so after Matty arrives
(still sighing about
her aunt's empty house),
we head out
for the day.

A destination
hadn't really been
decided on beforehand,
but we soon end up
in the playground
we had talked in
months before.
Picking up the vibe,
Matty starts by asking,
"So,
how is your
grandma doing?"

"My mother
visited her
a few weeks ago,"
I tell her.
"I don't think they
have completely
made up,
and her health isn't
improving much, either,
but it's something."

It had been
rather miraculous,
actually.
My mother had returned
from a two-hour
'shopping trip'
with a huge grin
and an excited recounting
of her conversation
with her once-estranged
mother.

"It was amazing,
Cam!"
she had gushed
to me.
"I could almost imagine
that the past few years
had never been."
Of course,
at the time,
I hadn't paid much heed
to that small
victory;
I had still been
too entrenched in my
Matty-induced gloom.

"How's the situation
with your family?"
I ask the girl
beside me
at length.
We're seated on
the swings again,
our booted feet
kicking up snow
and loose bits
of sodden mulch
as we slowly sway
back and forth,
back and forth.

Immediately,
Matty looks down
as though the question
pains her to confront.
"The same,"
she mutters.
"I haven't talked
to any of them
but Eunice
in a while.
She's moving out
next week,
getting an apartment
as near to
my school
and her internship
as she can."

I vaguely remember
hearing about
her sister before,
and how she,
like Matty,
hadn't agreed much with
their parents' ideals.
In my mind,
she and Matty are
at one end of the rift
separating her family,
while her parents
and brother
are at the other.
"Is she much
like you?"
I wonder aloud
after a moment of thought.

"No,"
Matty replies
with a tiny laugh
that almost sounds forced.
"She's so much
more outgoing
than I am -
stubborn, too.
She wouldn't budge when
my parents tried to
call her out on
her beliefs once.
My mom calls her
the rebel of
our family..."
She trails off there,
once again looking
rather downcast.
"I miss them,"
she says at length.
"My brothers,
Mom and Dad...
Eddie is going to be
eleven
this week,
and I can't even
congratulate him
or give him his gift
in person..."

Before I can
say anything,
her hands ball
into fists
and her gaze
flies up,
surprisingly angry
behind her
pain-filled eyes.
"Is this
my fault?"
she asks of
no one in particular.
"Did I bring this
upon myself
for being different
and not agreeing
with what they've
taught me
my whole life?
Why else would I
be suffering
like this -
making everyone else
suffer
so much?
It's just not
fair-"

"No,"
I interrupt her,
"it isn't fair.
But you can't
blame yourself
for it.
They're your opinions,
not theirs.
Your beliefs are
who you are -
and they can't
take that away
from you
or tell you that
you're wrong
for thinking
the way you do."

"But what if I
think that it's wrong?
What if I'm
ashamed
of myself,
of the fact that
I'm different
and can't bring myself
to feel the same as
they do?
What then,
Cam?"

I've never heard
Matty sound
so lost
and unsure
of herself.
It's disconcerting
to think that
the girl who has
stabilized me
so much
in the past few months
could be anything
but stable
herself.
She's been
a constant
for me -
but now,
I'm not so sure.

"I can't
fix it for you,"
I tell her
after a long bout
of conflicted silence.
"We both
know that.
Only you can
tell yourself
whether or not
what you believe in
and who you are
is wrong.
But I myself
am certain
that you are
in the right -
because otherwise,
you wouldn't care so much
about something
you can't control.
That's just
how you are."

She just looks at me
for a long time after,
as though searching
my eyes,
my soul,
for something
that will confirm
or deny
my words -
which exactly
she's looking for,
I can't say.
At long last,
though,
she just nods
numbly
and digs her feet
into the snow below
to stop her swing's
back-and-forth movement.
Her knuckles,
I can't help but notice,
are a bright white
against the cold metal links,
matching the pale snow
surrounding us.

"Maybe
you're right,"
she murmurs
haltingly,
"but I still can't
help but feel
as though I
am still
in the wrong."

"Then do what
you've told me
to do before.
Go back,
talk it out
with your family.
Make amends
for what's happened -
but let them know
that you won't
back down
from what you believe
just because they
don't agree with it."

And for the first time
since we've started talking,
she smiles -
a small, tired smile,
but it's something,
nonetheless,
as genuine as she
can seem to muster.
"You're right,"
she tells me.
"As always,
you're completely right.

Her boots scuff the
snow-covered mulch
underfoot
as she starts swinging
again -
and she says
nothing more
on the topic.

×

Heyyyyy y'all I couldn't figure out a way to break this up, so here's a long, angsty chapter for ya. I'm still trying to figure out a way to taper this story down so the ending I have planned doesn't seem so abrupt or forced, so expect shitty filler chapters in the near future. I'll try to make them somewhat decent, though.

If you guys liked this chapter, I would love if you would vote and leave me some feedback below! It would be much appreciated c:

Alsooooo I'm going to vote tonight, it's exciting stuff. I actually don't care, but my parents are super anti-Trump, so I'm just kind of going along with them because he actually is a bag of shit. Oops, did I say that out loud?

Am I the only one who wishes none of the candidates in either party will win? I honestly hate them all, lmao.