Troubled

29: Talks.

Megan Crawford.
Thursday, September 10th 2015.
19:12.

It was not long before my mom noticed.

She made lasagna one night, because she knew how much I loved it and she thought it would cheer me up. But I just moved the meat around the plate and took sips from my glass of water. When she was picking up the dishes from the table and saw that I had not so much as touched the vegetables she had made, she said that we had to talk.

Mom sent Catherine to her room, telling her that she could play with her dolls for an hour before going to bed. My sister ran with a smile on her face down the halls, and the kitchen became silent. I sat on one of the chairs with my hands intertwined in front of me as she made her way towards the sink and turned the faucet on. Her voice echoed around the room when she talked.

"What has got you so upset and quiet? Is this about he fight we had a few days ago?" Mom wondered, her tone skeptical and firm. "Are you still mad at me because I accused you of sleeping with your boyfriend?"

"No," I assured her, but my voice broke. I cleared my throat and then spoke again, this time, it came out louder, "You were right. I'm really sorry I yelled at you. I should listen to you, you only want what is best for me."

"Well," she exclaimed, because she had not expected me to apologize. But I did not want to argue anymore, it had been dumb and immature, and I had other things in my mind now. Mom rested her hands on her hips and went on, "That is true, I suppose. It doesn't mean that what you did was fine, I just haven't decided how to punish you."

She waited for me to say something but I never did. She was used to be answering back, she was used to me being argumentative and determined to prove my points. But I was tired. So I shut my mouth until she decided to talk again, "You will not leave the house for the next week. You can go to work and Blake can come over if you want. But you will not be seeing your boyfriend, you may only spend time with him in the bookstore."

"Actually, I quit my job," I admitted. "And I no longer have a boyfriend. Kyle broke up with me."

"What?" Mom had never seemed so confused. She raised her eyebrows and then scrunched them up. I only stared at her, my expression dull and emotionless. She gave me a suspicious look and questioned, "Wait, are you only telling me this to get back at me?"

"No, I'm serious," I said to her, still not showing how much pain I really was in. I glanced down at my fingernails and scratched the red nail polish on them, feeling a bit anxious. "Why do you think I have been so quiet these days?"

"I thought you were just mad at me," Mom confessed, making her way towards me and wrapping her arms around me, the way she always did when I was sad. I took in the scent of her vanilla perfume and felt the fabric of her blouse against my cheek. She whispered into my ear, "Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry. What happened? Why did he break up with you?"

"I'm not quite ready to talk about it,"  I muttered. I had had to explain the break up countless times now and I was becoming exhausted with it. I just wanted to distract myself and stop overthinking it, since I could not even change it. I nodded towards the sink and said, "Can I help you wash those?"

"Meg, you should have said something," Mom sighed, making her way towards the sink. I followed her there, I stood on one side and she did on the other. I grabbed a pitcher in my hands and turned on the water again. We cleaned in silence, I would pass her the dishes and she would run a towel through them. She seemed uncomfortable, as if she was searching her mind for things to talk about. All of a sudden, her pale blue eyes glinted as she remembered something she had to tell me.