𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆! | harry styles

𝐈𝐈

MOM is, of course, right on time. I see her beige sedan idling near the curb, making this terrible wheezing sound that all cars make when they're on their last leg. I brace myself for her bright smile, her endless stream of questions, as I open the door.

"How was it?" she's asking before I've even tossed my book-bag into the backseat.

"Nothing new," I nearly groan, rubbing my eyes. I need a nap. A Xanax. A shot of gin.

But instead, I have Anne asking me about school supplies and new friends and catching up with the curriculum, all of which are answered with zero enthusiasm. She doesn't notice.

"Rick told me there's an opening at the hospital," she says finally, grinning the crooked grin we share. Besides that smile and my green eyes, I'm a spitting image of my father. At least, that's what Mom said when I was little and still cared to find out about my deadbeat dad, bitterness always in her voice even though she tried not to let it show. She's big on "letting me make up my own mind" about him so I've been given the facts. A one night stand her freshman year of college turned into a nine-month long argument over hospital bills and permanent addresses. He was six years older than her and worked at a warehouse in upstate New York, where they both lived at the time. He stuck around for a few months but ended up running off to California or something cliché like that.

But then of course, she had to drop out of school and take care of me. But as she always assures me, "I'd never trade you for a degree anyways."

Still, her lack of a college education made it hard for her to get a decent job. Nothing like a teen pregnancy to derail your dreams of making something of yourself. She was a secretary at a law firm in Illinois and a waitress in North Carolina. Briefly, she worked at a YMCA in Ohio and that was the best summer of my life because I spent my days swimming and eating candy bars from the vending machines.

Apparently, we're about to add CPA in Washington to that list.

"It's nothing glamorous or anything," she continues, brushing a dark colored curl out of her eyes as she pulls out onto the main road in town. "But it'll get my foot in the door. Rick was telling me about this program at the community college and I think I could be really good as a nurse; don't you think?"

"Yeah, definitely."

She answers with another smile, her dimples appearing as they only do when she's really happy. Mom keeps talking about her new job, about what color she wants to paint our living room and I stare out the window. Jersey was all suburbs and old factories. Forks feels like we're fighting back the forest, the mossy trees seem to encroach more and more on us every day. It makes me a little claustrophobic. When we pull up to a stop sign, the rain starts to pick up and Mom tsks, her eyes squinting up towards the sky. I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. It hasn't stopped raining since we got here and I had been hoping for a little break.

No such luck.

I reopen my eyes, ready to come to terms with the fact that I will never see the sun again.

But then, I see Imogen Greene walking along the edge of the road, her head tipped up to the rain and her clothes are completely sagging with the torrents of water falling on her. She looks at peace. A little sad, but at peace. It's ethereal almost, like she's in a movie and she's made of magic. Her mascara is running and I feel like I could stay watching her in this moment forever.