Cherry Wine

t w o

"Bye, mom!" I yelled, ready to run out of the door. I was terribly late and even if there was no volleyball practice that day, getting yelled at by Mr. Sullivan (my new literature professor) first thing in the morning wasn't something I looked forward to. Before I could slip out, my mom stepped in front of me, her hands on her hips.

Noah had insisted that I go meet my family for the weekend, seeing that I clearly missed them. It was a great idea if I was being honest. I was feeling much, much better by the end of the weekend, even if I had an essay to finish. I should be shaking with fear, but at some point in my college life, I just stopped giving a damn.

I gulped. My mom was a very intimidating woman in her late forties. Her forest green eyes resembled my own, but other than that, we literally had nothing similar. She had a silky black mane and such sharp cheekbones that even models would be jealous of. My mom was still the most beautiful lady I've ever seen.

And probably the strongest too. Our father left us when me and my sister, Elena, were young and my mom raised us all by herself. She loved our dad but when he left, she never let us see her pain. She was strong, so strong, all through it. She was and still is our pillar of support.

Despite our very obvious height difference, she could still make me tremble like I was five, "Mom please, I'm late!" I whined, shouldering my bag.

Her glare softened into a sigh, "You never eat, Abby. One of these days you're going to work yourself to death and it's all going to be because you didn't eat breakfast. Don't expect me to drag your ass to a hospital if you faint."

"Yeah, yeah."

Her eyes were filled with love and concern when she asked, "Are you okay? Are you taking your medication properly?" I hated it when she looked at me like that. Like I was deserving of so much more than what I had, "You know you can tell me anything, right honey?"

I thought of telling her about the anxiety attacks. She would insist I go to therapy. That's what I was supposed to do. And then I remembered how warm Noah's arms felt around me and how soothing his words were. Then I decided maybe, I didn't really need therapy. Maybe I already had everything I needed.

I grinned and swooped down to give her a cheek kiss, "Stop worrying mom. I'm fine. More than fine, actually."

 She swatted me away and groaned, but I could still see the small smile on her lips. Before I could protest, mom shoved an apple in my hand. Seeing that I was going to complain again, she gave me a death glare, "I don't care if you don't like apples. You're eating it."

I saluted her, "Alright mom."

"Mooooom! Leave that loser alone! Can I have more pancakes?" Elena called out from the kitchen.

My mom rolled her eyes and yelled back, "One second, honey!"

I laughed and gave my mom a tight hug before hopping out of the house. Oh, how I loved her.

An involuntary sigh escaped my lips when I realized that I had to go back to living in my shitty dorm room and eating chips and ramen for all three meals. I promised myself that I would visit my mom at least once in every two weeks even though I knew I wouldn't.  But who cares, really? We make such big deal of saying that keeping our word matters, but we're all dirty liars and hypocrites at one moment or the other.

There's something exhilarating and absolutely delightful about lying to yourself and breaking something which isn't meant to be broken, don't you think?

The campus looked beautiful that day. The sky was so brilliant and blue and my ears were filled with the sound of birds chirping. It almost seemed like I had walked into a fairy tale. But as I walked inside my class, I couldn't help but feel as if something was going to go terribly wrong.