Stephanie

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"Is something bothering you, sweetie?"

An older version of myself sat down beside me, that same warm smile I always had.

Snow was covering everything. Cheesy Christmas music was playing through the house because for some reason my Dad liked the stuff. There was ham. Potatoes. There were countless relatives, some of which I avoided because I didn’t know who they were.

Then there was Mom. Calmly throwing her arm over my shoulder, massaging me, reminding me of the terrible thing I was wearing.

I was wearing a gaudy sweater she knitted for me. She deliberately made it awful, catching on that kids nowadays think they're kinda ugly as hell. Orange with blue, yellow against purple, she made it deliberately clash as much as possible, while staying on theme with random snowmen and Christmas trees.

My Mom was really cool.

Which is why I hated lying to her.

The next few weeks after my incognito visit to Trevor? Totally rough. Like, hellish even.

I had gone home to visit my parents. Usually, that wouldn't be hellish. I really did love my parents, and what's more, I liked them. There was a distinction there. I saw all too many cases of people who loved their parents, held them dear, but the last thing they ever wanted to do was spend time with them.

"No, no, everything's fine, Mom." Despite all of that goodwill I had toward them, I was faking a smile. I was lying to them.

Really, I was surprised at how fine with lying I was becoming which after everything I've been through, was another outlier for me. I was the honest one, because I didn't need to lie. I wasn't out all night in high school, making them worried I was in drug-fueled parties where I would make them worry that I wouldn't come home, and if I did, it would be actively overdosing on some sort of drug and pregnant.

"You don't look fine. You look greener than your sweater."

"I don't think you used any green on this sweater, Mom."

"Doesn't mean you don't look green."

"I don't know, maybe I ate some bad Chinese food." A half-truth. I dined on some borderline sesame chicken. Apparently I also didn't get paid when I was suspended, so I was stretching the money I did have. That sesame chicken was the last thing I had before reverting to my college diet of ramen and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

It wasn't the best diet really, and maybe the shock of living off Mom's cooking over the summer and fall and reverting back to it knocked my system loopy, so I was a bit queasy. It likely had a whole lot to do with the general stress of life at the moment too, I supposed.

Mom, though, knew there was more. "Okay, maybe I meant you looked a bit blue."

"Blue and green aren't the same colors, Mom."

"Stephanie Margaret Casey, stop being pedantic. You know better than to dance around the questions."

I didn't want to talk about. What did I say to her? 'Oh hey, I met a guy. He's my student. I'm fucking my student, Mom.'

"A boy? It's about a boy, isn't it?"

"Um, uh, Mom," My fake grin became wider. 'Yes, this student is a boy. Who I got suspended because there are now explicit photos of me on the internet of me fucking him.'

"You can talk to me about boys, sweetie. Don't treat me like I'm completely oblivious to you being a woman."

"Mooom," I said, as groan-worthy as I could. I didn't even tell her about Ryan. 'My career is over because of him, and yet I still am madly in love with the guy.'

"Did he dump you? He dumped you, didn’t he? It's totally heartbreak."

"No, no, it's not like that, he didn't."

"So it is a boy." She grinned, happy about her cunning.

"Mom, please."

"It's hurting you to be away from him, isn't it? He's away at Christmas. How sad."

"Um... I guess."

"Um... I guess? So he didn't dump you, and he's not with you now? Are you stalking someone, Stephanie?"

"What the hell, Mom?"

"If you're interested in a boy, just tell him, don't follow him around like you're a crazy person. Boys really like when a girl takes the initiative. It's how I met your father, you know."

"It's not that. Yes, there is someone," I admitted. "No, I'm not stalking him or anything like that. He's well aware of me. Too well aware. He has feelings for me too, I know this."

"Then what's the problem?"

"There are sometimes people you really shouldn't be with, you know. Like, you know it's totally and completely wrong."

Mom took her time, as I knew she was deep in thought. "Are you having an affair with your married boss?"

"Mom, really. What the hell?" She came up with the strangest stuff sometimes. "No, I'm not a homewrecker, and no, I'm not trying to sleep my way to the top." It was pretty much the exact opposite, if anything.

"Then what's the problem, sweetie?"

This is why I didn't want to talk about it. There was no way to tell her without it coming off as skeevy on my end. "I just... don't know. It's not right, okay?"

"Then break it off..."

"It's not that either. I have feelings for him. I desire him. I want him. I can't shake him, and I think about him all the time. That's the textbook definition of the L-word if I ever heard one."

"I don't like sounding like a broken record, but what's the problem, sweetie?"

Grunts. "Mom... you know how you told me there's some things you can't really give advice for, and that I'll have to figure out on my own?"

"Yes. Experience is a hell of a thing."

"This is one of those things."

I didn't need to say anymore. She pulled me close, that motherly hug, and for a brief moment, I thought everything would be okay.

"You'll make it through. You'll find love. You'll get married. Then you'll give me lots of grandchildren that I can spoil so I don't have to deal with consequences of spoiling them, and I dump that on you, just like my own mother did to me."

"Mom, you make it seem so alluring." I remembered going to my grandmother’s all too often. I remember getting way too many cookies. I remember Mom and Grandma having a private conversation before we drove off, and that when I got home, I ran up some walls. Grandparents, eh?

Still, even with her comfort, I didn't really know how to feel. It was more the uncertainty. I wanted Trevor. I wanted more of him. Yet, I also wanted my career. I think I wanted the former more, but I still wasn't remotely sure I could have it.

Why did I come back home? Why did I want to teach in my home college?

Because of her. The woman holding me so tightly. If I didn't, I would have never met Trevor either.

The New Year's game was coming soon. I usually didn't care one bit about a football game, but this was one I knew I had to go to. I had to see Trevor, even if it was only on the field and obscured by ten pounds of pads.

"Now, there's all that, but there's still the fact you look kinda sick, sweetie."

I yawned. It was a legitimate yawn. Maybe it was everything depressing me. "Yeah, I've been super lethargic the past week or so."

"It takes a lot to get used to a new job."

"Um, yeah, it's totally that, Mom." Another fake smile. I stood up, gave her another hug. "I think I'll go try to sleep through the Christmas music. Maybe for an hour or two."

"You do what you need to take care of yourself."

"Thanks, Mom. Love you."

"Love you too, sweetie."

I headed up the stairs to my teenage bed. I really was tired. I knew that I'd be asleep soon enough.

All my dreams would be about Trevor.