Not Quite Sure Yet

Chapter 21

Dear Joey

I stormed through the door when I got home, slamming it behind me. I caught sight of my myself in the mirror on the wall, and cringed at how pathetic I looked. My breathing came out in ragged pants, and my previous tears had dried to my cheeks in patterns. My hair was messy from the amount of times I ran my hand through it, waves of dark drown sticking up all over the place. In other words, I looked like complete shit.

Obviously hearing the door slam, mom came rushing out of the kitchen, hands still holding a wooden spoon covered in sauce. When her worried eyes caught sight of me, her hands went limp, and the spoon dropped to the floor with a thud. Mom usually took things in her stride pretty well, so I guess I really did look that bad. She scanned my face quickly, but didn't come forward to hug me or anything, and I was very grateful. As you know, physically comforting me doesn't do me any good, and I tend to freak out slightly. Being hugged brings on the sensation of being trapped when I'm like this, and so people end up getting offended when I push them off.

"Cole," Mom whispered, eyes glazing over with tears. "What the hell, darling?" I felt my knees buckle and I fell down, staring directly ahead and holding in tears. I slowly shook my head, telling her I couldn't talk about it. It was taking all my will power not to cry right now, bringing my knees up to hug my chest, squeezing hard. Mom started forward, but stopped herself with a pained expression. I saw how hard it was for her to see me so upset and not even be able to hug me. I felt awful for making her feel so helpless, as I felt right now.

After a few seconds of silence, as mom watched me rock back and forth, not letting myself cry, I took a deep breath. I stood up fluidly, flinching at Mom's saddened expression. There was still silence as I slipped my shoes off, and pushed my hair back. I knew I was stalling, putting off the step I wanted to take, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to not be so selfish for once, to make Mom feel better. I couldn't explain what had happened yet, without breaking down anyways, but I wanted to try something. The frustration I felt with myself was about to bubble over.

I took a deep breath and turned to face Mom. Quickly, I pulled her shorter figure into my arms, quick enough that I couldn't stop myself. Mom stiffened at first, but soon relaxed into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I relaxed and rubbed her back, feeling a little bit less guilty as I held my mother in comfort for the first time in months. After a few seconds, I felt a coldness spread over my t-shirt, and realized my Mom was shaking with tears. I panicked. Oh fuck, what did I do? Did she not want to be hugged? Fuck.

I grabbed Mom's shoulders and pulled her away, so I could look at her face. Obviously it was wet with tears, her bottom lip wobbling. "Fuck, Mom, are you okay?" I nearly shook her. "Did I do something?" I rambled, brushing her tears away with my hands. Mom shook her head and gave me a shakey grin. She took a deep breath and placed her hands on either sides of my face.

"Thank you," She whispered, happily. "You have no idea what that meant to me." I shook my head, still confused. Why the fuck was she crying then?

"Oh, darling," She clocked my expression. "These are happy tears. I know how hard that was for you, and I am so proud of you." I sighed and smiled. So that was it. Fucking happy tears? God, women are so fucking hard to understand, Joe.

I let her go, not really able to handle anymore at the moment. As Mom bent over to grab the spoon, I took to the stairs, only getting halfway up when I heard her voice calling me. I turned around slowly. "Yep?" I struggled to keep my voice steady and my expression neutral.

"I won't ask what happened now, darling." Mom laughed and I sighed in relief. "But just remember this: I'm proud of you for getting better." I shook my head and laughed bitterly. This can't be fucking better. I was nearly crying on the floor a few minutes ago.