Growing Pains

Chapter Three

Bridgette

I broke up with Tyler after school on Friday; he was too obnoxious. He took it the same way a toddler reacts when scolded: angry to blubbering tears. It was pathetic. He was definitely not one of my finest choices. Lunch Thursday displayed that perfectly on a silver platter for all my friends to laugh about. I even caught Duncan making some snide tennis comment on our way to Economics, which just sealed the deal of our breakup.

I went home that night ready to take a long bath, but my mom was at the door, waiting for me. We moved into a new house, thankfully staying in my school district, while dad kept the old one. This one was tinier, but I liked it better. There was something about it that was warm, and it smelled like the beach: salty and fresh.

My mom loved the beach, it's where I got it from. My dad wanted more modern decorum and architecture, but my mom loved houses that felt like they were washed on the shore by chance. The entire house was coated in sandy beiges and cool blues, making me warm up to it quickly. It reminded me of my previous home in Malibu, a place filled with sunny days and blue skies.

The only downside was my mother. I was so furious with her when I found out that she cheated that I didn't speak to her for weeks. She broke down crying, begging me to forgive her, and that's when I realized that she was a human too. This was her mistake and she was desperately trying to put the pieces of her broken life back together.

But ever since my brief silent treatment towards her, she hovered. She was constantly checking up on me, making sure I was okay. This was fine at first, but she started checking on me for the most minuscule things.

So, I made an effort to not be around as much. I even took up a job at the local surf shop, which gave me discounts on its inventory—a bonus.

My dad was just as bad, if not worse. Except he didn't hover. No, whenever I was around, he would constantly complain about my mom. He would go off on little tangents saying things about how he always knew Denise—my mother's name, which he always said when he was cross—would do this one day.

At least, my mom never complained about my dad. I think she knew better. If she said anything about how this was his fault, we would go right back into that arctic tundra, where silent dinners and cold stares lived. And she did not want that.

"Hi, honey! How was school?" Her sunshine face greeted me. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail, which let the choppy front layers of her grey-blonde hair fall out and frame her face. She wrapped her knitted beige sweater tighter around her, a nervous habit she developed since our relationship got rocky.

"It was fine," I brushed past her and made my way into the kitchen, grabbing an orange. I felt her disappointed stare following me like a ghost, needling into my guilty conscious until it was noticed. To avoid looking back I tightened my grip on the orange until its citrus scent perfumed the air.

"How are things with your friends?" She asked following me. Her voice had a higher pitch to it, which I had come to recognize as her silent pleadings. This was her wanting to talk to me, but I was just never in the mood.

"Good. I'm actually going to one of Trent's gigs tomorrow," I offered, hoping it was enough to end the conversation sooner.

"Oh, that's exciting!" Her voice was barely cheerful and her pale green eyes scanned my face in a desperate search for something. I guess she didn't find what she was looking for because she returned her eyes to my own, which now looked slightly saddened.

"Mhm," I stared down at the orange, tossing and catching it once. I looked up at her, "Alright, well I have homework." I shoved down the guilt that bubbled in the back of my throat like bile.

She frowned, "But it's the weekend. Can't you wait a little bit?" Her voice was on the edge of desperation, but there was too much I still had to say to her. After all, I had forgiven her as a person, but not as my mother. She tore my family apart. How did someone move on from that?

"I have a shift tomorrow morning, and I'm taking three on Sunday. So, that means I have to do homework tonight." I felt my heart squeeze at the sad look in her eyes.

"Okay, let me know if you need anything," she gave me a small smile in return, but it didn't reach her eyes, making me feel three inches tall.

I almost said we could watch a movie tonight or go out to lunch tomorrow, but I didn't. I just said, "Will do," and walked into my bedroom. It was the only thing I could say.

I used to be a ray of sunshine. In fact, Courtney used to cling to me whenever she was sad about her own parental issues—ones she didn't really talk about—because I was the cheery girl with the loving parents and adoring big brother. But now, I was a girl who felt broken inside with parents that resented each other and an older brother who lived on the other side of the country.

Now, I was a perpetually rainy afternoon.

I flopped down on my bed, needing a moment before I started working on the pile of physics homework I had. I looked at my blue walls, which were flooded with photos of my friends. There was one photo in particular snagged my eye, but it was of no surprise to me, as it typically did.

It was a photo of all of us on New Year's Eve last year. We had all been invited to a couple of big parties, but we opted to throw one of our own, exclusive to just the six of us, at the cabin that year.

The picture was quite cute. Duncan had an arm around both Courtney and DJ, but he was looking at DJ, laughing at something. Courtney was kissing my cheek, and I was smiling, my nose crinkled from laughing—which I would typically find unattractive, but since I was bursting from happiness, it just looked lovely. And yet, it wasn't my own private joy that constantly drew me back to this photo. It was Trent and Gwen that always pulled me in and caused me to stare for hours on end. It was the look on their faces as they stared at one another. There was such love, such devotion.

I wanted that.

I kept thinking I'd find it in the next guy I see or date or kiss, but it was never there. I have never felt that spark of connection and love.

Well, there might have been a moment that I did, but I was too drunk to know. And anyways, the guy I shared it with lived in Malibu, far far away from Wawanakwa.

I let out a sigh and rolled into a fetal position, hugging myself tightly in hopes to close the gaping hole in my chest as the fresh sting of tears welled in my eyes.

I hoped that one day I would find what they have. I hoped that I would find it soon.