Stepping away from the car, I walked toward Alex. “Hon, if I could take you, I so would. But I love you too much to introduce you to my crazy world in Pennsylvania. Stay here and stay safe,” I stated, grabbing her into a fierce hug.
She started tearing up against my shoulder. “Five days. That’s all I’m giving you, Claire. If you are not at your desk Monday morning, I’m coming for you.”
I nodded my head and stepped out of her tight embrace. I took one last look at her before starting my car and driving away. I had a gut feeling that when I came back, I wouldn’t be the same person. There was just something about returning home that felt off to me. I’d felt that way since waking up this morning. It wasn’t a feeling that I was familiar with, which shocked the shit out of me.
I made it all of five minutes before I turned on the radio. I was never one who could just drive in pure silence, leaving me to my thoughts. Sometimes my thoughts were pretty damn scary, more so today. I was ecstatic that I was going to be seeing my mother after all the time we’d been apart. But I was not looking forward to returning home. If she would have let me, I would have paid for the whole affair if she got married in New York. But that didn’t happen. She wanted to get married in the town she was born and raised in.
It was kind of cliché, if you ask me. Getting married in the town that you have lived for the past—almost fifty—years. But I wasn’t going to speak out against my mother’s wishes. She’s done so much for me since I left, there was no way I could say no. Before going to bed last night, I thought it would be good for me and her if I arrived a little earlier than planned. I decided to leave at the butt crack of dawn—six a.m.—so I would arrive no later than three in the afternoon.
Considering the roads were still quiet, I was glad I made the choice. I didn’t need to run into any problems along the way. Having a clear head on my shoulders was the only way I would get through what I was sure would be one sham of a wedding. Then afterwards, I would come back to New York, hang out with Alex, and confess the whole sordid tale. Which, I was sure, was going to be quite extensive and require about three pitchers of margaritas.
Just as I was about to change the radio station, my favorite song came on, Fight Song by Rachel Platten. My mood shifted, drastically. Instead of feeling like I was in over my head, the chorus made me stronger. I started singing so loud, thinking about all the things that’s happened to me. This wasn’t just my favorite song; it was my life theme. I had fought, turned over a new leaf. I was the only person that could dictate where my life ended. After the song ended, I hooked up my phone to the car stereo, putting the song on repeat, and that’s what stayed on the radio the rest of the way to my mother’s house.
Coming to a stop in front of the two-story colonial where my mother lived, I studied it—weathered shutters still graced every window. The pea green door, that I knew would still hang at a crooked angle from Brad’s escapades at being a do-it-yourselfer to the pathway that had seen too many storms in its time and needed to be revamped. It would not be anything to most people, but that house meant everything to me.
Or at least, it used to.
Stepping out of the car, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. When I reopened them, a smile bloomed over my face. It felt so different being here, but in a good way. I was home—where everything that ranged from good to bad had transpired. It was in this house that I shared my first kiss with Brad, first birthday, pretty much my first everything. Just being here dragged up painful memories. But I was going to take that song's advice. I was going to fight. I was ready to take back all the things that Brad and his mother stole from me. No one, and I do mean no one, was going to take it away from me.
After gathering my luggage, I made my way to the front door. Just before I got to the top step my mother threw the front door open, running in her haste to get to me. It has been at least six months since I saw her last. She was one hell of a sight for sore eyes. Dropping my bags, I caught her when she leapt into my arms. Tears started falling down our faces. I missed her so much. I went from seeing her every day, to only seeing her every few months. God, I was such a terrible daughter. Her face seemed like it’d aged years.
I sniffled. “God. I’ve missed you, woman.”
She laughed through her tears. “Not as much as I’ve missed you, sweetie.”
Holding on to her for a bit longer, I tightened my hold before releasing her. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, I smiled. I picked up my luggage and followed her inside. She showed me up to my room and left me to get ready for dinner. Closing the door behind me, it felt like I was transported back in time. Nothing. Had. Changed. All the posters were still taped to the wall. All my pictures were still taped to my mirror. I sighed, running my fingers over the picture of Brad and me on our prom night.
Many good things happened to me in the ten years that I’d been gone. But that day, even though my heart still hurt from his distrust in me, was the best day of my life. I could still feel his hands roaming over me to this day. His soft, gentle caresses. I shivered, closing my eyes. Just being with him left me breathless, even thinking about my time with him all these years later still took my breath away. I felt a tear slide down my cheek.
Opening my eyes to take one last look at the picture, I took it off the mirror and stashed it in my bedside table. I opened my luggage, getting freshened up from my long drive. I headed out of my room and went down to the kitchen when I was done. I could hear my mother in there cooking and singing. I smiled, noting the good mood that she was in. Was that because of me or her upcoming wedding? I wanted desperately to believe that it was because I was home. But something told me that it wasn’t. She was just happy that I could be here for her on her big day.
I made my way to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. She had apparently heard me enter the kitchen because she stopped what she had been doing and looked at me. Meeting her eyes, I saw such longing that I began to get choked up. It was not supposed to be like this; I was supposed to be strong. Not show how much I truly missed being here. Damn her for making me cry, damn this house and all the overwhelming memories. Last, but not least, motherfucking damn this hellacious wedding. Pulling out a chair from the old worn table, I sat. Breaking eye contact with her had been strictly out of necessity, I didn’t want her to see how torn up I was on the inside.
A comfortable silence overcame the room. It was as if we didn’t know how to act around each other. In all truth, from the short visits she made to New York we haven’t been around each other more than a few hours at a time in almost ten years. Clearing my suddenly dry throat, I figured the best way to get past the emotionally-charged silence would be to nip the problem in the bud.
“I’m sorry for not coming back to visit. I just … couldn’t.” I stared down at my fidgeting hands in my lap.
She sighed, coming over to kneel in front of me. Tapping my chin, I looked at her. “I know, baby. I know. I was just glad that you came here for me. I know it’s hard, and I shouldn’t have asked, but I wanted my little girl here.”
I nodded. “I should have visited. I shouldn’t have let him ruin what we had.”
“Ruin what? You’re still my partner in crime, don’t you ever forget that. It’s not like we didn’t see each other. I came to visit when I could, and I’m sure you would have done the same if your heart would have allowed it. Don’t focus on the past, sweetie; look toward the future. You have so much to offer. Any man will be glad to marry you,” she finished with a smile.