The Art of Letting You Go

i hate to do this

"I knew this was my fault." My mom suddenly breaks the silence that was no doubt haunting the room moments before. "You're acting up because your dad left," She continues, plopping down on the end of my bed and holding her head with her hands. "And I'm the reason he left." My notebook slips from the grasp of her thigh and lands on the wooden floor.

I eye my mother cautiously. She thinks I skipped school because of her? No, I skipped because I hadn't seen Olly in a week and all of my emotions took over me. 

She sighs and I stand still, not sure how to comfort her. I tuck my hair behind my ears and sit down next to her. She feels the bed sink the further I sit down, yet neglects to look at me as she lets out a faint sniffle. 

"Mom?" I ask, resting my hand on her shoulder and rubbing slow circles. She looks up at me, tears in her eyes, probably begging me to say something. "It wasn't because of you, or dad." I begin. "I skipped because I missed Olly." I say, not knowing that my response would be her huffing and standing so that my arm falls to my side. 

She bends down and grabs my notebook, making my palms suddenly grow sweaty. Though to my surprise, she gently tucks the scattered pages in the book and closes it carefully. I eye her actions as she places it on my lap and looks down at me.

Her blonde hair was falling messily from her bun, making it look as though she hadn't slept in days. Her tan cardigan was barely hanging on to her thin figure, her dark sweatpants and white tank top completing her sleepy look. 

"Av," She whispers, catching my attention. I see something peculiar in her eyes, but I can't exactly pin point what it is. 

"I hate to do this," She lets out a heavy sigh. Now I can recognize the look. 

Pity.

"But I have to be your mother, not your friend." She announces weakly, taking away from the authority she was hoping to give off. I watch intently as she pushes her hair back from her face.

"You can't see Oliver anymore."

I blink rapidly. Was I dreaming? I pinch my thigh just in case, and hiss in response to the pain. But what held more pain? The pinch, or what my mother had just said?

"No," I coward below her stare, not understanding how my skipping once could possibly take the best thing away from me.

"He's a bad influence, Av." She replies to my whimper. I stand from the bed and stumble before pulling myself together. I don't even bother to pick up my notebook that had slipped off my lap. My breathing begins to increase, making it hard for me to form any words.

She must have taken my silence as my giving in, when it reality I just had to calm myself down before something bad happened. She takes a single look at me before a tear slides down her cheek and she eyes the floor. I was internally begging for her to either take back what she had said or notice that I was beginning to not be able to breathe. 

Why couldn't my own mother see?

The wood beneath her feet creaks as she turns on her heel and slowly begins to walk away, expecting more of a fight from me. I wince when the door to my bedroom shuts, with her on the other side of it. 

I begin to take in my surroundings before I'm stumbling to find my phone. If I have to sit in this damn bedroom for one more night I might not make it to morning. 

Before I know it, I'm dialing Olly's number. I don't give a shit about me "not being able to see him anymore". 

I rock myself back and forth patiently on the floor as my heart sinks with every beep that's not answered. I let out a cry when it goes to voicemail.

My rapid breathing comes back to play as I scroll to find Logan's contact. My finger roams over it for a split second before I realize Olly probably wouldn't like me going to Logan for help. 

I had to think quick before my panic becomes too much to bare. I quickly click on Mason's number and don't have to wait five seconds before I hear his voice on the other line.

"Avery?" His voice sounds groggy, and I mentally curse myself for not being able to get my stuff together. Now here I am waking people up in the middle of the night to burden them with my problems. 

"Mason, p-please." I choke on a cry as I continue rocking, hoping to coax myself down. 

"Av-Avery? What's wrong? Are you crying?" He sounds more awake now. I hear shuffling and think it must be his covers.

"C-come get m-me." I manage to let out. 

"Okay, okay. I'll be there in a second okay? Stay on the phone with me Avery." He speaks in a rushed tone as I hear him opening drawers and probably pulling out a pair of jeans. I realize I'm still crying when small droplets are landing on my jeans. I'm trying to steady my breathing now, but I'm failing incredibly. 

Come on Avery, you can do this. Just pack a bag, okay? That's all you have to do. You love packing things, right?

I hum in contentment with myself, though still crying, as I crawl from the floor to my closet. I grab a pair of leggings, along with Olly's sweatshirt from my floor, and the makeup pouch from my bathroom. I toss all of them into a black tote bag and grab my charger, not bothering to look at myself in any mirrors.

"Avery? Are you still there?" I hear Mason speaking into the phone on the other side of my room. I reply with a weak 'yes' and sit on my bed, curling up into a ball.

I notice my notebook and quickly throw it into my bag. 

I've somehow managed to calm myself down, and it makes me feel... proud? Perhaps of myself.

"I'm here, Av."