63rd St.

Chapter 5

Some nights I lay awake and stare at my ceiling. I contemplate every word i've said, every choice i've ever made. Every outfit I've ever worn, every boy I talked to.

I analyze and criticize every move I've ever made until the stress gets to be too much to handle, and I break.

God, why can't I just be grateful.

I spent the night at Andrews house last night. While I was making him breakfast my mom called me.

She rarely ever calls me and when she does I don't answer, but for some reason I felt the need to hear what she had to say.

She told me she wanted to spend the day with me, like a girl's day or whatever. I suppose it's because she doesn't have work today.

In the last few years, she's spent more time at work than ever. Secretly, I believe it's to get away from the man she has inhabiting her home. It's her only escape from the life she's made for herself.

I really didn't want to say yes, oh how much I wanted to hang up the phone and go back to my morning.

But I didn't, because at the same time, I also want to start the journey of bettering myself.

That starts with not resenting her anymore. It starts with accepting her apologies and moving on, being willing to spend time with her.

So I told her I'd go with her then I hung up.

We're meeting at 11 for brunch. I already know how dreadful it's going to be. She doesn't know me.

During my younger years she spent her time doing... other things, instead of getting to know me.

We won't have anything to talk about and I bet I'll be ready to leave within the first 20 minutes.

But that's not the point right?

Maybe doing these like this will give me a chance to get to know her.

I was always jealous of the girls at school, the ones who came to school and talked about the embarrassing conversations they'd have with their moms about puberty.

I didn't have those. I would've killed to have a mom to talk to me about boys, lead me through woman hood. I would've done anything to sit through one of those embarrassing conversations.

I just wanted a mom. Maybe now I can have one.

Andrew's driving me home now so I can get ready, he made sure to remind me to be done by 3, for his football practice.

He said he's not mad about yesterday anymore, so I'm in a better mood.

Life is going okay.

Okay...
I think I use the word 'okay' a little too much in my everyday life but I can't help it, it's perfect.

"My mental health is doing okay."

"Schools going okay."

"I'm doing okay."

"My life is okay"

"My relationship is okay"

I don't want to admit this, but it's the perfect way to lie to myself. If I don't say I'm doing bad, then it doesn't have to be true right?

Before I knew it, Andrew was pulling up in front of my house. I saw my moms car parked in the driveway.

I said bye to Andrew and got out of the car, I heard his tires screeching down the street before I even got in the door.

Once I got into the house I hurried upstairs, trying my best to avoid any possibility that'd I'd run into my mom and the couch potato that is my mom's boyfriend.