Passion for Perfection | Open Novella Contest 2019

4. A Mother's Love

Life lost meaning like a tree loses leaves. It started to crumble slowly, but accelerating more with each passing day.

I had always enjoyed being alone, and I always will, but at that moment I realised that being alone and being lonely wasn't the same thing. Loneliness was sitting in a coffee shop full of people and feeling detached. Loneliness felt like I didn't have a purpose in life anymore. Loneliness hurt. I was alone in a way I realised I didn't enjoy.

Time flew past. I woke up in the mornings and didn't know what day it was. Weeks passed and I didn't remember a single moment of it. Food appeared in my fridge but I didn't remember leaving the house. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay in bed and disappear. I simply didn't care about anything anymore.

I first started thinking about my mother again while watching television, although I'm not sure if it counts as watching since I wasn't really paying attention to what was on the screen. The scene showed a child running into her mother's arms when she hurt her knee, tears streaming down her face. I watched, entranced by the complete trust a child had in their mother. Guilt washed over me like a wave over an unfortunate swimmer. I hadn't been back to my home town in almost ten years and I hadn't spoken to my mother in almost eight. I was always scared of having to confront my father again. I didn't know if he would be satisfied with my success.

I wondered what he'd think if he saw me at that moment. No job, no partner, no life. I knew exactly what he'd think. He'd call me a failure. A disappointment. A mistake. Exactly what I felt like.

However, I longed to see my mum. I longed to see her smile and tell me it's going to be alright. I wanted her to reassure me. I needed her to reassure me.

Before I knew what I was doing, I shoved some clothes and essentials in a backpack. I grabbed an apple and a packet of biscuits for the journey and swiftly walked out of the apartment, not making a single glance back.

I walked out into the street and squinted around. I hadn't been outside in a week and my eyes refused to accustom themselves to the daylight again. Still half blind, I headed in the general direction of the train station.

The two-hour journey passed quickly, mostly because I was engrossed in my own conflicting thoughts. I could hear my common sense screaming at me, telling me to stop and turn around. Run to safety. Save myself. It knew what was coming. However, something inside me was reaching out for help. I wanted to be like the child in the commercial: under the care and total protection of my mother. She was all I had left.

The bus reached my stop and I got off, backpack safely strapped to my back and my feet planted firmly into the footpath. I looked around the estate and the bad memories came flooding back in a rush, almost suffocating me. It was almost summertime but a cloud hung over the estate like a bad omen and a chill ran down my spine despite the heat that the sun provided. The bus lurched and moved off, the sudden noise making me jump and bringing me back to reality.

I walked down the path, my hands gripping the straps of my backpack until my knuckles turned white. I reached the front door of my old house much sooner than I'd anticipated and I had to pause to compose myself. Instead I started panicking. What do I say? How do I greet them? What if Father opens the door?

As my brain went into overdrive, my hand went into autopilot. Somehow it moved by itself and knocked on the door as if it had a life of its own. I braced myself as I heard the door unlock.

I was greeted with a surprised expression belonging to my mother. She seemed frozen in place. Her eyes wandered from my face, down to my toes and back to my face again. A second dragged by as took in the sight of me at her door, something she probably thought she'd never see again.