The rolling hills of the Wyoming wilderness screamed Izzy's name to Emma.
Harsh wind scorched her wounds. She could not leave Pinedale, not just yet.
As she ran onto her street, a multitude of questions flew in and out of her mind: What can she do?
How can she face her mother? How can she have peace? How will Izzy's parents cope? What about the people at school? How will they react?
Emma came to a slow, jutted pace as she toggled into her front yard. Her mother was sitting in the hand-me-down rocking chair on the front porch.
Snow was beginning to set forth onto the frozen soil.
The locket Izzy gave Emma for her birthday bobbed in rhythm. She held it as she came to a halt, and stared at her enemy.
Silence fell upon mother and daughter. Finally, Ms. Seymour spoke.
"Emma, baby, can we talk?" she asked in a forgiving voice.
Emma tossed her backpack onto the edge of the closed front door.
"Why, Mom? Why? Izzy is dead, and she's not coming back, all thanks to you."
She coldly spiked a death stare at her mother. Her eyes were sore.
"I...I've had time to think. You have to understand, this is all new to me. I don't know what to...I never spoke any rumor to anyone, Emma. I informed Izzy's mother, for her own good as well as yours. I never told anyone else."
Emma's cheeks flushed.
"How am I supposed to believe you? Izzy was harassed and shunned just for being who she is. It's because she liked girls! Don't you see anything wrong with that?"
Emma's mother stayed silent.
"You didn't know Izzy like I did. I...I fell in love with her, and you..."
Emma began to raise her voice.
"...you took her away from me. Now how am I supposed to believe you? Huh? Tell me, Mom!"
A tear paved a trail down Ms. Seymour's cheek. In utter shame, she covered her face with her fingers and sobbed.
It took a few minutes for Ms. Seymour to collect her thoughts, and finally, she bundled up in her Pinedale Wranglers afghan and stood up.
"Because...because I'm your mother, and I love you."
She shivered.
The crippling Wyoming wind came across the vast prairie and flooded the front porch. The gears in Emma's mind turned, and she concluded that, just maybe, her mother wasn't her enemy after all.
Finally, silence broke.
"It's pretty cold out here. Do we still have apple cider in the refrigerator?" Emma asked.
Ms. Seymour nodded, red with frost.
Mother and daughter entered the disheveled house and after microwaving mugs of cider, they met on the living room couch to savor in its comfort. Both began to heal.
"Mom, why did you call me a faggot?"
No reply.
"It...it made me felt...like I wasn't your child. Just a nuisance. It hurt." Emma exclaimed with fearfulness, sipping from her mug.
"I didn't mean to...I was scared. I am...I'm sorry. Em, you are a...?" Ms. Seymour asked with a sneeze.
"Lesbian?"
"Yes...I still don't understand. Why are you choosing something that leads to a tough life?"
Her worries showed cross her forehead.
Emma sipped again.
"Mom, it's something I never chose. Sexuality...you can't pick what or who you like. No one can. I cannot make that any clearer. If I..."
"I don't know what else to say, so I'll say what I know: Emma Seymour, you are my daughter and I love you, no matter what you are or who...who you like."
They both placed their mugs onto the center table. Emma stared at her mother with peace.
"We can work through this, Mom." She started to cry.
"I...I just wanted Izzy to be beside me when we had this talk." She held back her sorrow no longer.
"Oh God, she's gone, Mom!" Emma fell to her mother's arms and she released all of her built-up emotions.
"Hush baby, hush. It'll be all right."
"I miss her so much!"
Her cries flushed the pain away. Emma fell to her mother's lap, and Ms. Seymour comforted her daughter by stroking the side her neck.
Mother and daughter reconnected, and in Emma's mind, she knew everything was going to be just that as her mother said.
Everything was going to be all right.....
