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May. 26th, 2008
[OTC] Mommy issues
May. 26th, 2008 06:37 pmThe last time you really see your mom—as in really talk to her, without your Everworld self getting in the way—you don’t even see her at all. You’re getting ready to go for a run, clear your head and get away from it all, and all you see as you’re heading down the stairs is the man’s leg sticking out from between the sheets.
Suddenly, you have whole new reason to run.
You look away, not wanting to see what’s there, almost as though that if you don’t see it, you can pretend it doesn’t exist, but your subconscious knows. It’s in the way you pound the pavement a little harder on the way down to the lake, or the way you grit your teeth as you hit a particularly rough uphill climb. Your head is still somewhat reeling from the fight the night before, and although you don’t remember all of it—it’s not your main concern at the moment. You just want to run, get away from the rest of the world and pretend like the man in your mother’s bed doesn’t exist. That he wasn’t planning on marrying her and that your mother suddenly wanted everyone to magically get along. It was impossible, really—he hated you and you hated him. That was just the way things were.
If anything you wished you could run backwards in time. Run back to when your father remembered that you existed and you had that boat out on the lake. When you were a family, without Eddie or your father’s second family in the picture. You know that your parents were unhappy when they were together, and that this was better for both of them, but you’d still like to see your father. You’d like your mother to find someone who wasn’t a total tool. You’d like things to actually be normal, and for them not to be falling apart.
So you run away.
You work your frustrations out into the pounding of the pavement, and you run away. You switch over into autopilot, letting something unknown pull you closer to the edge of the water, to familiarity or memory, or towards the woman you swore you’d save, no matter what the cost. When you arrive, there she is, sitting on the edge of the pier, just seconds before your world gets torn apart.
Yet the only regret you have when it comes to your mother is that you never got the chance to say goodbye.
418 words
Suddenly, you have whole new reason to run.
You look away, not wanting to see what’s there, almost as though that if you don’t see it, you can pretend it doesn’t exist, but your subconscious knows. It’s in the way you pound the pavement a little harder on the way down to the lake, or the way you grit your teeth as you hit a particularly rough uphill climb. Your head is still somewhat reeling from the fight the night before, and although you don’t remember all of it—it’s not your main concern at the moment. You just want to run, get away from the rest of the world and pretend like the man in your mother’s bed doesn’t exist. That he wasn’t planning on marrying her and that your mother suddenly wanted everyone to magically get along. It was impossible, really—he hated you and you hated him. That was just the way things were.
If anything you wished you could run backwards in time. Run back to when your father remembered that you existed and you had that boat out on the lake. When you were a family, without Eddie or your father’s second family in the picture. You know that your parents were unhappy when they were together, and that this was better for both of them, but you’d still like to see your father. You’d like your mother to find someone who wasn’t a total tool. You’d like things to actually be normal, and for them not to be falling apart.
So you run away.
You work your frustrations out into the pounding of the pavement, and you run away. You switch over into autopilot, letting something unknown pull you closer to the edge of the water, to familiarity or memory, or towards the woman you swore you’d save, no matter what the cost. When you arrive, there she is, sitting on the edge of the pier, just seconds before your world gets torn apart.
Yet the only regret you have when it comes to your mother is that you never got the chance to say goodbye.
418 words