Oh, Birdie, my Birdie

41

Dear you,

I was in bed until the sun hit the middle of the sky. I couldn't deny it. I was moping. And my mother, who was home strangely enough, noticed right away.

I'm a morning person and I guess that was the biggest tell for my mother that something was wrong. Or maybe it was the mother's intuition. The world will never know.

She opened the door and peeked her head in, she never was one for knocking. To other kids, they would be annoyed that their parent didn't knock. But me, I couldn't care less. It's their house, they pay the bills and I have nothing to hide. Not even my moping.

"What's wrong," her smooth voice echoed throughout my plain walls, begging to capture my attention.

I merely blinked at the ceiling. "Everything and anything," was my vague reply. Oh, how I wanted to tell her everything, Birdie. But, I couldn't get the right words out. If I spoke of what's wrong, it wouldn't make sense and my mother would think I'm just moping over nothing. I guess, in a way, I was. But you aren't nothing, Birdie. You are everything and anything.

How can I explain that? No amount of words will be enough to express how I'm feeling right now. You did nothing wrong, so why am I sad?

"Is this perhaps about the person you were sleeping with the other night?"

"Mother!"

She laughed, something that I haven't heard in years. Though, it's only been weeks.

"We didn't sleep together."

"I suppose not in the way you were thinking, but you did sleep with them."

A groan escaped my dry mouth and I forced my body to roll over to my stomach. "You're insufferable, I swear," I mumbled, though I couldn't help the smile that leaked onto my face.