Girlfriend

17. Butterflies

After talking to Michael for hours and hours I feel like a new person. He's genuinely interested in me and he's so sweet. I still can't believe he asked me out. My life seems to be looking up for once.

"Alright, well, I'll call you later," Michael said, closing our two hour conversation. He called me at six this morning.

"Okay," I sighed, not wanting this to end. He called to tell me to have a good day but then it evolved into a whole other discussion.

"Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up and fell back onto my bed. Whenever he calls, the butterflies in my stomach go crazy and it's hard to control them. Honestly, I don't want to control them. I've never liked anyone as much as I like Michael. Maybe it's because he likes me back.

"Who were you talking to?" Mom asked, bringing me fresh laundry.

"No one."

"Was it David?"

"Please, Mom," I grumbled.

"Don't be embarrassed!"

"I'm not embarrassed. I wouldn't call David because I wanted to."

"Then who was that?"

"No one." I got up and hung some clothes back up in my closet.

"Well, then if you're not gonna tell me anything, I'll tell you something."

The butterflies from Michael vanished and were replaced with new butterflies but not the good kind. They're the kind that sit at the bottom of your stomach and eat away at you like you're some kind of prey. Whatever she had to tell me wasn't good at all.

"I made you an appointment," she said, taking my hand.

"Okay?" I took her hand off of mine.

"With a therapist."

"You're finally coming around?" I said crossing my arms.

"I'm really worried about you, Cathy Jean," Mom admitted.

"You weren't worried before. I'm just moody, remember?" I retorted.

"Now don't throw that back in my face, young lady. I don't know everything," Mom said, getting defensive.

"You should know your own daughter. But I'll go to the doctor to make you happy. Even though I know I'm depressed. I knew that a long time ago."

I continued to hang up clothes in my closet now that I knew there was no major life changing news. Mom finally wants to know what's wrong with me.

"Why didn't you say anything then?"

"I know you did not just say that," I gasped, whipping around to face Mom. "I've told you that a million times! You just didn't believe me!"

"Calm down, Cathy Jean."

"Calm down?! I'll calm down when you start caring about me. Get out of my room."

"Girl, I oughta slap you. You need to watch that smart mouth of yours," Mom snapped.

"Then I'll leave," I said, swiping my purse off my doorknob.

"Cathy Jean!"

"Please just leave me alone," I pleaded, basically sprinting down the stairs. I needed to get out of here before I dug myself a deeper grave.

"Cathy Jean." Mom clamped onto my wrist and yanked me back. "Listen to me."

"Mom, seriously, let me go," I growled, prying her fingers off.