How I Met my Kidnap-I Mean Your Father

::31:: Love is...

My mom's house is, of course, much smaller than my dad's, but it some how feels more like a home. My room is comfortable, but I don't mind going out into the living room to watch TV. My mom doesn't have money for things like maids and butlers, but I don't really mind that. They always made me feel awkward when they were cleaning up my messes.

In my opinion, as long as the bed is comfortable, it's perfect.

But all I can think about lately are the things that Matt said. I mean, how could I not? If I hadn't already been through so much crap I might have been traumatized. But I guess I'm too tired to become really worried about it.

Tyson's also been on my mind so much more. After the incident with Matt I'm not sure what caved inside my brain, but it's like every third thought isn't of Tyson. I had a craving to see him. Even just his picture, or a sentence that he typed.

"Is this what 'love' is?" I wondered out loud. "Do I love Tyson?" I used to know what love was supposed to feel like. But then my only role models went and set fire to the picture, and now I'm just left with what the ashes look like.

I've also found myself staring at the white ceiling more often. I'm not sure why but the absence of color is somewhat comforting. It makes me feel less pressured to do things, and like it's okay not to know. but then my mind goes and begin to see images of Tyson's face on the ceiling. And sometimes that just gets weird.

Maybe it's more like an obsession or something rather than love. That'd make more sense.

There was a light knock on my door, and I knew that it was my mother, coming to check on me to be sure that I hadn't killed myself from stress or something.

"Come in, Mom." I rolled over to my stomach to stare at the door, waiting to make eye contact with my mother.

"Hey, Sweetie, how are you doing?" My mom offered me a smile, while shutting my door beind her to come and sit down next to me on my bed. She seemed to be doing fine with the whole 'divorce' thing. She was dealing with it much better than my father was if you ask me.

"I'm fine, Mom. Just trying to figure out what I might have done in my past life to have all these bad things happen to me and not someone else." I sighed and rolled back over to stare at the ceiling.

"But Alex, you are someone else to someone else," my mother pointed out, "But it does horrify me as your mother who seems to be the last one to find out the traumatizing news."

"Yeah...," I trailed off. I really wanted to ask my mother if she thought I was in love. I mean, she was my mom, she's supposed to know these kinds of things right? But I was too embarrassed to ask. What if I got a different answer than what I was looking for. I also wasn't quite sure if I had the right words planned out. How could I possibly tell my mom everything that's happened to me. Most of it is just plain embarrassing to think about, so how to I form it into words to tell my own mother?

"Honey, you have your constipated thinking face on again. What are you thinking about?" That's my mom for you. What a jokester.

"Thanks, Mom. You just get me," I rolled my eyes and paused. She's my mom so she won't judge me, right? So I should just go for it? "I'm thinking about how to ask you a question." I answered finally.

She seemed relieved and smiles at me, "Ask away, Pumpkin."

"Mom, do you still love Dad? I mean, obviously you're getting a divorce and stuff, but is it really just because of what he's done. And why didn't you turn him in then?" I blurted out rapidly. Well, it wasn't what I was going for, but that was okay. I'd eventually work my way there. Slowly but surely. Like a turtle.

"Well," my mother paused, aqnd seemed to think about it a bit. I don't know if that's what she expected me to ask, but it feels like she's been thinking about the question for a while too. "Yes," she said finally, "I do still love your dad, but it's not the same kind of love that we used to have as a husband and wife. And because of that love we used to have, and because of you kids, that the thought of turning your father in never occured to me."

"How did you know that you were in love with Dad? And how did you know that you weren't anymore?" I asked quickly.

"Those are tough questions. Love is different for each person. You only know when you feel it. It's not really something so simple that you can explain everything and make sense, but one day I know you'll realize what I'm talking about. But the only thing I can say is that when you love someone, no matter how many hoops you have to jump through to be with them, if you really love them you wouldn't even have to debate about it. It'd be a choice that you could make as easily as if you were going to make your bed or not. Which you need to do by the way." My mom patted my hand, and kissed my forehead before standing up.

"I'm sorry to leave you after such a deep convorsation, and I'ms ure you have tons of burning questions to ask me in that head of yours, but burning food is more important." My mother winked at me and hurried out of my room to go save whatever she had cooking from burning.

And then all I could do is sit there and turn over her words in my head to try and completely understand what she had told me and apply it to myself. I'd know when I feel it myself? Well obviously I don't know or I wouldn't have asked her. I swear that woman talks in circles sometimes.

I'd jump through hoops for him? Does that mean he'd jump through hoops for me too? What if he didn't? Would that mean that my love is a waste of time, or would I have to keep jumping and hope that he's going to catch up to me?

Did Tyson let me go because he loves me, or did he let me go beack he didn't? What was he going to say to me? Why did I come back to this broken home anyway? It probably wouldn't have been safe for me, but at lease it'd be better at Tyson's house than in a house by myself.

I sat up, and then threw myself back down onto a pillow. I couldn't take thinking anymore. It was starting to give me a headache, but thinking is all I could do. And the one thing I realize that I'm thinking about more than anything is how much I want to see Tyson again.

"If this isn't love, then God is cruel for putting these feelings in my body." I growled in frustration.

I made up my mind, or I guess I finally understood what was going on in my mind. I mean I always had that one thought in the back of my mind, but that was where I had thought it would have stayed: in the back of my mind.

"Oh my God I think I'm in love with Tyson." I left my hands up into the air, and dropped them back down on my face. I repeated this for a while because I got distracted and thought it was amusing, and it distacted me from embarrassment about my new found feelings.

'Well I guess there's only one thing left to do. I'm going to have to start jumping,' I thought to myself, 'Because now there is no way I'm allowing myself not to see him again. That would be rediculous.'

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I hope you didn't mind the too boring chapter. But it had to be done. One person can only be in denail for so long before they get annoying. And I am so sorry to those of you who think she already passed that point.

Also, I'm curious as to what you all think:

Do more people read author's notes at the beginning or at the end of a chapter?

I was just thinking about it myself when I realized that I, myself, only really read author's notes when they're at the beginning of a chapter.

THE STORY WILL BE COMING TO AN END SOON!

It stops on an even number, don't worry. My OCD wouldn't let me have it any other way. Get excited people! Because once I finish this you can get on with your lives instead of hating my horrible updating habits!

But please, Please, PLEASE, don't stop reading my stories all together. People get better with motivation, and trust me when I say I have a few ideas that might get you interested if you liked this story ;)

PEACE OFF,

Mooneh.