Partnered Up☕︎

#45 Growing 'up' can be quite a horrendous topic.

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#45 Growing 'up' can be quite a horrendous topic.
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Fay

My mother is very prominently known to be controlling. That's the way she's always been. When it comes to us living things, or anything else. Especially since my older brother pasted away nine years ago.

You see. My mother is very important to me. Not just because she's my mom, or because she gave birth to me or all the normal reasons why your mom would usually be important to you. But because my mom was the only person who understood what I was going through. She was the only one who understood I was so lost without him. Because she was going through it with me. We were in that together. 

When kids in my neighborhood would make fun, or tell stories about the Winfreys house and how it was haunted by the broken, scary, robot girl who couldn't speak, she was the one who told them off. She would go to countless coffee meets with their parents. She would get in countless arguments. She was the one who never let them get to me. And she was the one who always protected me.

Even though at times it felt like she didn't care about me, or that I was just another burden to her, or I was unimportant, she was always there. My mom. My shield. And I now understand that. I understand that all the working, leaving me all alone, bringing me to therapy, keeping me homeschooled, not letting me go out to play with the other kids in our neighborhood, or not letting me go out at all, was all to protect me.

Because she loved, and still loves me.

It's so hysterical. Hysterical because I now fully understand it all.

The day I left on a plane to New York, she still looked strong, and she still tried everything to get me to stay. She tried to bribe me with the idea of going to any school in Cali, or that I would be permitted to get a job at our nearby book store. I thought she didn't have hope in me, or that she thought I was still broken, and I wanted to prove her wrong.

I wanted to prove to everyone who ever thought I was some broken freak that I could be normal, and make it on my own. And I did. Truthfully, I did. Even if it doesn't look like it, I did. And I'm proud of myself.

I'm proud because I did figure out what to do when I had no dorm room, I did actually make friends, I did get a job, and I did stay strong. Even when my father just magically appeared and made me remember all the things that I tried so very hard to forget, I still stayed strong and pushed myself. And that's something I'll always be proud of myself for. As silly as it may sound.

But the thing I'm most proud about, is that I've actually changed.

"Fay. Can you set the table? Breakfast is ready," My mother's calm voice echoes throughout the small hotel room, breaking threw my strong barrier of thoughts. She's relaxed a lot more since I've been cooperating with anything and everything she's said. 

"Sure," I state, getting up from the seat by the only window in this small, empty room, that I was staring off into. It's calming to watch the snow as it falls heavily onto the ground, and it keeps the mind busy.

For the past day and a half that's been my calming screen, as I think about all the things I have to say. There's so much.

Slowly, I walk over to the small cabinet, that only has a few plain white dishes and silverware. I place them on the small wooden table neatly, with some napkins. I can feel my mother's gaze watch over me, as she butters the toast, seated on one of the three chairs this small room has to offer.

"Here. You've been looking quite pale, and haven't been eating very much," she states, placing a piece of toast on my plate, watching me in a confused manner, as I play with the hem of my plain, grey sweater.

"I'm not very hungry," I state, still playing with my sweater, trying to put my words into place.

She sighs. "Why not? You've got to eat something; it's been about a day."

"Stop being a coward! Say what you feel! This isn't fair! Not to you! Or them!"

"It's because I'm home sick," I state, finally allowing my eyes to meet hers. They're a dark brown, leaning towards a hazel, like Beth, but the shape is large, and wide. Which I've inherited from her.

She laughs. "Well. We're leaving this afternoon, so eat something."

"I'm home sick because you took me away," I state, still looking her in the eye.

She swallows, lifting her brows amusedly. "Fay. You can't be serious. That old, creepy, run down building? You're such a child," She laughs, picking up her fork to stab a piece of scrambled egg. "We're going home, and then you'll feel much better.

"You see mom. That's the thing. I'm not a child, and where you want to take me, it's not my home anymore," I explain, trying to keep my voice firm.

She sighs, putting her fork down. "Fay-."

"N-no. I'm sorry, I don't want to disrespect you. That's the last thing I would ever want, but you can't do that anymore, you can't just say what my opinion is anymore, and you can't just tell me how to live my life!" I exclaim, standing to my feet. Her eyes widen, due to the fact I've never said no to her before, let alone shouted.

"I'm not a child. Physically, mentally and legally. And I know you don't see it, but the truth is you'll never see it. Mom I've learned so much, just by being here. On my own," I explain, feeling a smile form on my lips. "I've learned how to live on my own, I've learned to speak with people, I've learned to keep trying and keep my fears under control. I've learned more about myself, and I've learned more about us human beings then I ever imagined I could!"

She sighs agitatedly. "What are you saying Fay? That you want to go back to living in that trashy apartment with that boy, who does goodness knows what! Don't you see? This is child's talk, and a child's mentality."

"Yes. Yes, I do. If it means I get to stay here, then yes," I state, laughing.

"Why are you laughing?"

Because I never thought telling the raw truth could feel so good.

"What's wrong with you?! Don't you care? Don't you care that people are looking at you oddly?! You're working at small, minimum wage cafe, and living in an area where only trash live!" She exclaims, standing to her feet, while running her hands threw her hair.

I laugh. "I don't care at all. Because you know what? I love that little, strange café; where the manger is some overly cheerful lady, and where the staff is odd but just fun to be around. I love that creepy looking apartment complex, where the old, nosy manger is usually eating his donut happily, and where there are joyful kids running around and marking the pavement with vibrant chalk. I also love my loud, sometimes annoying group of friends, who attend the same university that I've longed to attend for so long." I smile, taking a step forward, and placing my hands on her shoulders.

She shakes her head, and watches me like I'm crazy. Because I most likely am. "And you know what I love the most out of it all? I love this shy, clumsy, annoying, rude, but intriguing guy, who's just as weird as I am," I laugh.

She blinks astonished, and I hug her, I hug her tight.

After I step back, I look her straight into her brown eyes, noticing the look of shock and a hint of disappointment swirl in them. "Mom I love you. And I want you to be proud of me and a part of my life. But I'm going back, and I'm staying there."

And with that. I left. I left my shielding, beloved mother, shocked to the core.

And I left to go find the boy I love. 

Thank you for reading (: If you'd like to leave a comment or vote it's much appreciated.

-nisa