Oliver Ausman Lives Again

twenty seven

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It's a big enough milestone to realize that I'm happy. But to know that I want to try to keep it that way? The whole thing is pretty monumental and definitely a little scary. I can't help thinking this looks a lot like the beginning of a road I've been trying to avoid taking-- getting happiness, losing it, and falling into an even deeper pit of sadness than I was stuck in before.

Thankfully, I've come up with a simple solution to avoid that problem: don't lose the happiness.

But if I'm going to take this seriously and really try to keep my head above the depressive funk I've been drowning in for so long, there are steps I'm going to have to take-- the first of which is so daunting that it almost makes me want to give up on the idea altogether: patching things up with Mom.

I can't stay on this road trip forever, as much as I'd like to. Soon enough I'll be back in Virginia, and I'd like to think there are ways to make living there a little less soul-sucking. Most of them go back to Mom.

Now, by "patching things up" with her, I mean reaching some kind of understanding about our differences. I don't think we'll ever have a normal relationship, but I'd like to at least get things to where we can be in the same room for more than five minutes without wanting to rip each other's head off. 

If it's what it takes to keep this feeling around, then I'm ready to be mature about things. That's why for the morning parental check-in, I decide to call Mom's phone instead of Peter's. We can talk, we can apologize, and maybe for once, we can try to be normal.

Unfortunately, just like last time, I'm sent to voicemail. Not even ten seconds later, my phone rings with a call from Peter.

I pick it up, hating the way my good mood has already dissipated. Mom has officially just snuffed out the beginning of my plan. She won't say a word to me and yet she's still managing to ruin things for me-- our relationship really is special, to put it nicely.

"Hello?" I say, sure that Peter can hear the annoyance in my voice.

"Oliver." Peter greets, sounding apologetic.  

I pause and breathe out some of my anger. I don't want to take this out on him. Still, we can't just ignore it. "What is she gonna do when I come home?" I ask, knowing he knows what I'm talking about. "Ignore me until I move out?"

"She's just... upset. I don't think it would be good for you two to talk with her like this-- give it some more time."

More time. I don't say it, but I can't help thinking that not talking is what got us into all this in the first place. 

"How is everything? You and Charlie doing okay?"

"Yeah, everything's good," I say, trying to make myself remember that it's the truth. So step one of my road to recovery was a failure-- I'll just have to focus on step two:  meeting Isaac.