Reject

The Farewell

' GET HERE RIGHT NOW'

I shudder at the thought of mum's blotchy face.

'NOW. RIGHT NOW YOUNG LADY'

I sigh and run a hand through unkept tuffs of hair. With a dismayed look, I glance over at the furniture-barricaded bedroom door. Not that I have much furniture, but it'll hold.

'I REALLY DON'T WANT TO DO THIS JORDANA BUT I WILL IF YOU MAKE ME.'

You can tell mum's really mad this time round. She never calls me Jordana unless I've been especially bad- which is becoming more and more often. I suppose I can't barricade myself in my room every time something goes wrong, some time or another I'll have to go for good. Why not now? It's been long enough.

'THIS KIND OF BEHAVIOUR IS ENOUGH. I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS. I'M COMING UP THERE IF YOU DON'T COME RIGHT THIS MINUTE!'

With a final sigh and fleeting look around my closet-of-a-room, I push aside the cheap drawers and bed. After strapping on a pre-packed backpack, I throw open the door and take determined steps down the stairs.

A normal mum would have grit her teeth and tried to sort out the situation and punishments deserved. A normal mum would have tried to be patient with her only child and calmly ask for explanations when she sees them coming down the stairs dutifully. My mum does neither of these things. Almost the complete opposite. Like a crazy mother, she full-out slaps me with a strike that leaves bruises for weeks. I am left stumbling, just catching the edge of the kitchen slab. Typical, really. I should have expected that coming.

'I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO WORDS FOR YOU. NONE. NO NO NO.'

'Mum...mum-please, mum...I can- I can explain. Please let me explain.' I play weak-girl, as per usual. She tends to let me off more easily like that.

The woman stands back, breathing heavily. Snake eyes follow me staggering to my feet. I notice my backpack has fallen to the ground. 'An explanation-oh, is that what you have?'

The little devil. 'Course I don't have a freaking explanation.

Well, I'm not going to let her win this time. I'm getting out of this good-for-nothing house even if it means I have to watch it burn to the ground. I stand up a little straighter.

'Uh, yeah. All actions have motivations behind them, right? Isn't that what dad taught us?'

That's when she starts fuming-for real, you can almost see the white puffs of rage. I really got her this time. Bringing dad to the conversation gets her instantly to her guard. When she starts speaking, it's impossible not to see her trying to pick her words carefully. 'Well, of course, dear. All actions...yes, dear, motivation behind them. Of course, darling. That's what dad...yes, dear, that's what dad said. That's right, dear.'

Ha. Pathetic. Now she's going nice-mum. Keep-it-cool-and-nothing-bad-will-happen-mum. She said 'dear' like five times. Ha. Could she be any more pathetic than she already is?

'Yeah, okay. I love you mum, I really do,' I literally had to choke out the words. 'I just-I just can't do this any longer. I hope you'll forgive me.' I pick up the backpack. Her eyes widen with understanding.

'Oh, oh no. No! Jordan...please don't. I couldn't live with myself.' Liar. She's really trying to sound genuine. I didn't think she'd bother.

I rummage through my things just to annoy her. And when my eyes look up to meet hers-I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was gratitude for all these years she had to put with me? To her credit, I wouldn't be able to put up with myself if I was someone else. But that's not it. I think maybe it was that little child deep down somewhere. Maybe that child wanted a real mother. Maybe that child can never really grow up without the mother it has always longed for. Maybe. I go run across the kitchen and wrap my arms around the woman who was never a mother to me, but the one closest to one that I've ever had.

She's surprised, but she gently, cautiously, eases her arms around me. 'Jordan...,' she whispers.

I step back quickly as soon as her hands reach my back. I am embarrassed to find tears wetting my face. Ugh. Guess that child inside me came up at long last. I can't even meet her face(or her shoulders for that matter.) I am embarrassed beyond anything. I've let her know at long last that I am capable of breaking. And I can't break. Ever. Not even when I made the school powerless for a month and the principal publicly expelled me, did I feel so humiliated as I do now.I've let my mum know I can break!

I don't realise I'm shaking till I bring an arm to hastily wipe the tears. Swallowing the stone in my throat, I pick up the backpack that has once more fallen to the ground(damn you, backpack). 'I'm going, mum. See you.' Hopefully I don't.

She doesn't try to stop me. For that at least I'm thankful. I couldn't bear walking away with her pulling my sleeve and begging me not to leave after what happened. So I push open the front door and walk out. Just like that. No screaming, no shoving, no bruises. Huh. I suppose I was expecting a little more suspense in the great farewell.

That's that, I guess. I get to the pathway before looking back. Mum's gone from the kitchen. Yesterday, I'd have said she'd be having a party in the living room. I seriously doubt that now. I walk away.