Burning Bridges

Burning Bridges-- Chapter 16

Him
I fumbled for my bag, trying to find my passport. Darn, I hope I didn't forget it on the plane. Gosh, Immigration was such a pain in the unmentionable.

I walked out of the airport, feeling hopeful. Ah, New York City. Well, not really. The airport was pretty desolate from the jungle of concrete. But still.

As I made my way through Arrival, I saw her.

"Mom?"

There she was. She looked so beautiful, and her hair looked a bit silver now. She didn't believe in dyeing her hair, she said it was a toxic procedure.

"Daniel." She said.

Before she knew it, I had dropped my luggage and I was already hugging her, and was this close to crying. I missed the way she always smelled. I missed the way she would do anything for me. I had missed her so much.

"Why did you come all the way here?" I said, still holding her tight.

"Why wouldn't I come to see my only child, who I haven't seen in almost a year?" She said, letting me go.

I looked at her, speechless. It really had been about a year since I last saw her.

And that was the moment I truly despised myself.

"How was Brazil?" She asked, trying to make me forget what she just said.

"It was...amazing. Mom, the people there are so friendly. And the food is amazing over there. And it was a great experience living there. But mom..."

"Yes, honey?"

"I missed you so much." I said, trying to hold the thunderstorm inside me.

"Come on. Let's take you home, sweetie." She said, putting her arm over me, as we walked toward my car.

Mom didn't believe in owning a car. She said the subway was an amazing place to see different kinds of people, and cultures. And she appreciated the underground graffiti way too much to travel above ground.

Home. That was the only place I really wanted to be.

Seeing my home after such a long time reminded me of how simple things used to be. And how I would not have to worry about anything other than following my dreams. It reminded me of how close I was to my mom, how my mom was my dad for me too. It reminded me how I would feel so protective of her, because of what had happened.
I was born when my mom was quite young. And I never really knew who my real dad was. He supported us for a while, then one day, my mom told me, when I was about 3 years old, he disappeared.

He was apparently into car-stealing, so we never really found out what happened to him. My mom would work shifts at a diner, trying to make ends meet and after some years she married this guy, Dave.

I just. I couldn't even imagine what I would do to Dave if I met him now. I...can't.

In brief, the 5 years of my life that we spent with him were terrible. I was very glad when mom and him seperated. Very.

After that divorce, she moved with me to a small apartment, which was earlier a bakery (now that I think about it, it was a pretty cool place) which was thankfully in a safe neighbourhood. I think I had the best times of my life while living in that house. I felt like a normal school-going child, for the first time over there.

I didn't care about anything else other than my mother. And she was my world. We would go to watch movies together, she would help me in my homework. We didn't have much money then, so I had to work hard in high school. I never thought I would get into such a good college, considering my financial condition. But, somehow I got a full scholarship. It's pretty rare to get a scholarship like that, but I didn't care. I was just happy I would finally be able to do something for her.