Beatrice Nims didn't know she was beautiful. Miles showed her that. They had a short living love before he disappeared. Just because it was short doesn't mean it didn't mean everything to her. It did. She spends month trying to figure out why he lef...
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I APOLOGIZE AHEAD OF TIME FOR THE SUCKY CHAPTER I'M SORRY! THEY WILL GET BETTER!!
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I rushed down the stairs as soon as my mom truck pulled into the driveway, opening the door for her before she could even stick the key into the lock - we need to talk, I said pulling her on through the door. I could see her eyes getting bigger with every tug of her arm, as I escorted her to the couch.
While I slammed against the couch, she firmly stood in front of me, but we continued holding hands, "Carmen, you better not be pregnant." She barked, squeezing my hand a little harder with every second that passed in all seriousness.
"That's not what we do around here, mom." I jokingly replied, lighting the mood a little. But she was serious, concern written up and down her face and I was scared to speak. I told her everything. Everything.
"Carmen Nims, spite it out!" She said, ignoring my irritable nature towards her calling me by my real name.
I bounced on the couch struggling to word it, although Miles had once made me the happiest I've ever been, he's also the one who caused me the most pain these last few months. My mom wasn't happy about that, when I cried she cried and we both cried and we hate crying.
She isn't his biggest fan, anymore.
"He came here today," I didn't wanna cry but the tears had already started brewing. "he was in the yard, mom."
"He was here!"
I couldn't control the tears that were staining my face, as I stared helplessly at my mom. Miles had torn through me, a child raised, tough as nails and fierce, brave and courageous, optimistic and smiles, where now I just cry to my mama when he breaks my heart or doesn't show up (or in this case does show up) - but, in the Nims', household full of strong women, us women don't cry over boys.
"What am I suppose to do?" I could feel myself crying the ugly cry where I sniffled every second to stop the snot from running down onto my top lip.
Mama looked at me for a long while before she reached over and pulled me into her famous bear hug, the one I loved so much, my black mascara staining her light blue scrubs, but she didn't care.
"Tears don't last, babe." She reminded me, stroking my back like I was her newborn child who was fighting it's sleep.
"We're not going through this again..."
But I felt like it had already begun, the rush had started the moment I heard his raspy voice in the driveway and there was no way to stop it now, knowing it had to stop on its own - I was even going to work against it or with it. We were already going through this. Again, mom.
Before today, I was learning to love myself again, and accept that in his absence I could, indeed, survive on my own.I could still be the pretty girl, Bea without him. I could be something without Miles. At the same time. I hadn't yet learned that having a boyfriend doesn't make you any more beautiful than you already were, just like not having one doesn't make you ugly - you are who you are before the boy and after.
I'm in an constant battle with myself on whether or not I love myself enough to work with this rush and risk falling apart, yet again, for my first love, or working against it and ignoring the fact that he ever came back to town.
But, I know I'd continue to jump off this cliff a million times over, for him, crashing against the rigid rocks, scarring and bruising - leaving permanent marks upon my skin, only to get back up and start all over again because the love for myself isn't there, yet, so I will continue to start over and jump knowing nothing's ever going to pull me back before I splatter all over those rocks.
