She called me after every time you didn’t answer.
“Oh,” I said, realising he had likely been trying to contact me for hours. “I was trying to avoid your mom and you haven’t been answering your phone.” “You do know I have a front door, right?” I managed to laugh, prodding him with my foot. Grabbing the back of his shirt, I pulled him into the room where tumbled and lay flat on his back against the carpet. “Took your time, this is a precarious thing I’m doing here.” Oliver said, dangling from the window ledge having lost his footing from the ivy-covered trellis. What potential burglar, murderer or evil clown would knock before entering?īarefoot, I padded across the room and unlocked the window. I jumped out of bed, grabbing the closest potential weapon and then scolded myself. And then it came more urgently, repetitive. Gentle, as if afraid they would wake the inhabitant. That somehow, in the midst of the humiliation and the heartbreak, I had my first kiss with a girl. I didn’t tell her how I stupidly, utterly and deeply fucked I was by being in stupid love with my stupid best friend who continually prioritised a stupid popstar alter-ego. I didn’t tell her everything, of course I didn’t tell her everything. It will hurt until it doesn’t and then everything will be okay.Īs I lay in bed, thinking of my worried mother laying in hers, I felt guilt chew at my stomach. That’s what she told me as she finally managed to peel me off of the couch and send me up to bed. It will keep hurting but I promise, one day, it won’t.” The pet name and the affection are a rarity but one I allowed myself to be swallowed up in. “Oh sweetheart,” she had uttered, softly stroking my hair. That I wasn’t adult enough to face my problems head on.
That I’d wasted the money she’d worked double and triple shifts to pay for. Sobbing and apologising over and over about how I’d ruined everything that she’d helped me create. The outfit she’d helped me pick out, spent too much of her hard-earned dollars on, was covered in gross purple berry flavoured splotches. My bare legs covered in painful, red friction burns from knee to ankle. My hair stuck to me from where my helmet had been. “Oh, honey,” she’d said as she took in my dishevelled appearance. She found me, still sniffling on the front porch and without a key. She was more than a little surprised to find out I’d run off from my own party. Mom had already gone to bed, likely to lay in the darkness and worry about her daughter.
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