Love Letters to You [On Hold]

five.

Entry #5
October 8th, 2034

My mom did it again.

Every once in awhile, she likes to play our old home movies so she can reflect on the good days, or something cliche like that. Her routine is always the same. She makes a pie, offers Dad and I some (but we never want any) and she watches the videos while scarfing down the whole pie. After she's done watching them, she cries for about an hour then goes back to being well ... Mom.

But there's something different about the way she did it today. She didn't bake a pie and she didn't cry after watching the videos. She just sat on the sofa with a straight posture and dead brown eyes glued to the TV, but it didn't actually look like she was watching it. More like she was looking right through it.

"Mom?" I asked her as I strolled into the family room, still keeping my distance. She didn't even acknowledge my presence when I spoke, so I moved closer. "Mom. Are you all right?"

She sucked in a steady breath and finally met my gaze with her glistening eyes. "Yes, Cal."

I knew she wasn't all right. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She blinked a few times before she buried her head in her hands, whimpering silently. "Carla.."

Now I knew something was really wrong. My mother loved Carla endlessly, as a friend of course. Ever since I've known her, she's been a close friend of the family. They went to school together and she introduced my mom to my dad so I feel really grateful for her. Without her, I wouldn't have been here.

If Mom was crying about her best friend, something had to be wrong. I sat beside her and patted her back in a soothing manner. "What happened to Carla?"

She was sobbing heavier now. "They killed her! Sh-she w-was one of t-them!" Her words drowned themselves in her tears, but they were still audible. She doubled over as she let out strained screams in between her sobs. I wrapped my skinny arms around her and pulled her onto my lap, burying my head in her short, tousled brown hair.

She has hair like mine. Always twisting and curling into neverending spirals and always impossible to comb. Dad calls us lions because of our manes.

I kissed the top of my mom's forehead, taking in the scent of her strawberry shampoo. "Was she a lesbian?"

Mom nodded slightly, still losing herself into her tears.

I never suspected Carla to be interested in girls. I guess I should have, considering she never had a boyfriend. But it just doesn't seem real. She can't really be dead. That stuff never happens to people we know.

I rubbed my mom's back. "You can't cry," I reminded her and as soon as I did, she straightened in her seat and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

She forced a smile at me. "You're right."

"If anyone finds out that you-"

"I know, Cal," she snapped at me. Her brown eyes darkened into an intense black as she gave me a silencing stare. After a long palpable moment of silence, her cheerful smile was back. She stood abruptly and sauntered into the kitchen, while asking me what I wanted for dinner.

And that's what I want to talk to you about.

Is it okay for my mom to suppress her feelings?

Is it okay for me to suppress my feelings?

I drive myself crazy just thinking about how effortlessly perfect you look all the time. It can't be okay to keep this a secret.

I know I just met you and I know you might think I am being too straight forward, but I want to tell the world that I love you.

But the world doesn't want to hear it.