Haley
I have never envied anyone in my life like I envy Maggie. Lying next to me, Maggie’s arms are flung over her head. One socked foot hangs off the bed; the other sockless foot has broken free of the blankets. Only her middle is covered. She breathes lightly, rhythmically and I wish I could share such deep, dreamless sleep.
When I sleep, I dream of West: of his smile, his laughter, his hands on me. We kiss and we touch and when our bodies are intertwined, West whispers he loves me and every time...I wake up feeling cold and alone and with tears.
Tonight, maybe I won’t sleep. Insomnia sounds like a wonderful habit.
For once, sleep isn’t a problem for my father. He’s turned away from me, tucked tightly in a ball on the other bed. Maybe this will mean he’s on some sort of road to recovery. Unfortunately, I’m pretty numb on hope.
“I don’t know, Dad...” Mom dragged the phone with her into the bathroom. She’s called John every night since we left and each night she emerges with red, puffy eyes. After John’s car broke down, we spent almost a week at my mother’s cousin’s house. Now, we’re back on the road. The door to the bathroom clicks open and a ray of light floods the cramped room.
“Haley,” whispers Mom. “Kaden wants to talk to you.”
I slide off the bed and Mom squeezes out of the bathroom as I slip in.
“Are you sure?” I ask. Kaden avoids conversation in person. He loathes phones.
Her answer is the closed door. Limited on options, I sit on the edge of the tub and press the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“You need to come home, Hays. It’s West. He’s taking the fight.”
West Young broke up with me in a deal he made with his father. He was to leave the life he built behind and his dad would have paid for my college tuition. I briefly close my eyes. Stupid boy. Stupid, insanely sweet, going to get his ass kicked by me, stupid boy and I’m in love with him and West lied to me knowing I’d never agree.
He’s right. I wouldn’t have and I wonder how he thought I would have accepted the money, but none of that matters now.
Sitting on a bench outside the bus station, I grip the backpack hanging between my bouncing knees. It’s full of my clothes and the few precious items I won’t be separated with. When our house foreclosed, I had boxes and boxes of stuff I claimed as important. Funny how priorities change.
In the space in front of me, the bus’s motor purrs. Mom and I left a half hour ago, leaving a note for Dad. Maggie’s curled up on the bench beside mine, sound asleep and cradling her American Girl doll. The early morning air nips at my skin and I rub at the forming goose bumps.
Mom exits the office, sits on the bench next to me and lays the ticket on my lap. “Tell your grandfather I’m now trusting him with over half of my heart. It was hard enough to leave Kaden and Jax behind. Now the scale is completely imbalanced.”
Guilt eats at me as I handle the ticket. It was cheap, but it’s still money we don’t have. But Mom agreed. Returning for me is necessary. My knees continue to bounce as a chaotic ticker crosses my mind: I’m leaving my parents... I’m leaving my mom.
“Will you promise me something?” she asks.
“Sure.” Anything.
“Don’t listen to the lie in your head keeping you from discussing what happened with you and Matt. Speaking out takes courage, but fear can make a compelling argument. I’m not saying it will be easy, but telling the truth gives you power...It sets you free.”
I nod, unable to say anything back. I can’t imagine saying the words out loud, but I can’t imagine living like this forever.
“Are you going back for West?” she asks.
“Yes... No...” The answer is both, but I say the simple truth. “I’m doing this for me.”
“Good. You’re a strong girl. Please don’t forget that.”
But I don’t feel strong. A huge part of me wants to crawl onto my mother’s lap and cling to her for dear life. All those years of holding her hand, the squeeze of her fingers stopping me when I attempted to cross the street before looking, the glances of approval, the hug after a hard day...her gentle presence in my life... I’m willingly leaving it behind.
My throat tightens. “What if I’m not ready to be on my own?”
“You’ve been on your own for a while and you’re just now figuring it out. You’ll always be my baby, Haley, just like I’ll always be your mom.”
She wraps her arm around me and I rest my head on her shoulder. When I was younger, my mom read to me every night. Back in our old home, back when life was simpler. She snuggled in my bed and brought peace and security. “Why did it have to change?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “But it did and all we can do is go forward.”
“I’m trying.” Air is harder to inhale. “But how do I walk away from you?”
“You aren’t walking away, baby. You’re growing up. But remember, I don’t care if you’re eighty and I’m a hundred and thirteen. I will always hold you, I will always love you and I will always be right here.”