Losing My Way (A Brian May fanfiction)

Go Your Own Way

Another reminder to read the previous chapters if you haven't yet! I've been updating a lot recently and I don't want anyone to miss any of them! ❤️ Tensions are high in this tale right now, but I promise there will be happier times to come.

-TheMrsMay

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I never did find out what Monica had told my mother. I didn't see the need to make my mum delve into those gory details when she was already so upset with me.

"I'm sick! You've made me ill!" She screeched at me over the telephone. "I want you home this instant! Do you hear me? Home! Now! Are you listening? And if you don't make it here before I see fit, I intend on sending the authorities over to collect you from that dump!"

"Yes mother." I droned.

"Yes mother." She imitated me- forcing out a seething, icy laugh. "You have no idea what you're in for young lady. No idea." With a slam, she hung up the phone. I set the one I was using down, and moped over to the stairway. Brian was waiting for me on the bottom step, his head in his hands.

I sunk down between his knees, and he pulled me into an embrace. I was completely wiped out- both emotionally and physically- and I could tell he felt the same. He stroked my back lazily, and kissed the top of my head.

"They'll never let me see you again." I mumbled into his belly. I couldn't even put emotion into my voice. I felt dead inside.

"I won't let that happen." He promised.

He was too good to me. I pressed my face into his shirt, inhaling the smell of his cologne as though it'd be the last time I'd have the chance.

Just like the story of Icarus- I had flown too close to the sun in my own naive reach for freedom. Now my wings have melted, and I'm plummeting down into a world that would meet me with the hard, crippling force of reality.

I thought bleakly about returning home- about sitting up in that room with the dusted shelves that held neatly alphabetized books, and my bed with it's ironed sheets and dainty throw pillows, and the closet full of modest, bright dresses, and the collection of records all tucked away like a bad secret. I thought of my mother breathing down my neck as she scrutinized my cooking, and my father ordering me to fetch him the newspaper or refill his glass, and of the neighbors all watching us- just waiting for some juicy tidbit of gossip to spread through the telephone lines.

Then I thought of church- where I'd listen to warnings, and old hymns, and the voices of the braggart church members who take pride in their pious, perfect lives. I'd rot in a pew, beside mother and father who would have taken great measures to sweep the news of my old boyfriend and our sinful trip together under the rug.

And finally, I thought of college. I thought of the way I'd have nothing in common with the other students there. I would be alone, and trapped in a place so focused on Catholicism- so adverse toward free thought. I'd spend my days studying, and staring at walls, and inching slowly toward a life I know I want no part of.

What a boring, dull existence I'll have.

Nancy Webster- a snuffed out flame. School teacher, home maker, mother, wife- insignificant like a single pebble on the shore of Brighton Beach.

"Should we get our stuff together?" Brian asked, not sounding too enthusiastic about the idea.

I stood and followed him numbly, like a wanted man headed off to the gallows. I saw the clothes I had thrown around earlier before setting out on my mission to find Diana. I picked up the bathing suit she had bought me, and a top she had complimented, and soon realized that almost every clothing item I brought reminded me of her. I shoved them all messily into my suitcase, and zipped it shut. There was a sleeve of a shirt that was still sticking out, but I didn't care enough to fix it.