I opened the scrapbook my mom had made for me when I was just three years old. She had gifted it to me on my fourteenth birthday, and it felt like both a treasure and a burden. As I flipped through the pages, the vibrant images pulled me back to a time when everything seemed simpler, happier. Each snapshot told a story of our familyâsmiling faces at the beach, birthday celebrations filled with laughter, and quiet moments on the couch, just us.
But as I looked through those pictures, a deep ache settled in my chest. My dad had died when I was thirteen, leaving a void that nothing seemed to fill. Four years without him felt like a lifetime of agony, a relentless reminder of all the moments we would never share again. I often replayed our last road trip, a sunny day in Southern California that I had thought would be just another adventure. I never imagined it would be our final memory together.
I lingered on a photo of my dad and me standing beside a roller coaster, my face alight with joy. As I smiled at the memory, tears prickled at the corners of my eyes. It felt so fresh, as if he were just a phone call away. But each day, the weight of his absence grew heavier, and I found it increasingly difficult to hold onto the pieces of him that lingered in my mind.
I set the scrapbook aside, placing it gently on the bed beside me. Gathering my strength, I slipped on some slippers and made my way out of my room. As I descended the stairs, the rich aroma of marinara sauce wafted through the air, beckoning me toward the kitchen. But midway down, I paused, caught sight of my mom standing in front of the hallway mirror, applying makeup.
"What are you doing?" I asked, tilting my head to the side as I studied her reflection.
She dropped the foundation she had been holding, turning her head to meet my gaze. "The usual," she replied, her voice light, but I could hear the tension beneath it.
"The usual" meant another date, another guy from one of the countless dating apps she'd been using. Ever since my dad passed away, she had tried to fill the emptiness in her life with the attention of strangers. I had met several of these men, and with each introduction, I felt a mix of anger and sadness churning in my stomach. I wanted her to move on, but the idea of her with someone else made me sick.
At first, I'd tried to voice my concerns, but my words fell on deaf ears. She insisted that she was simply trying to forget the past and move forward, and that dating was her way of coping. But for me, it felt like an unreasonable escape from our shared grief.
"I bought pizza, by the way," she added, breaking the silence as she finished applying a bright red lipstick.
I glanced at the clock on the wallâit read 7:15. "Please wash the dishes in the sink and do the laundry," she said, her tone casual, as if it were just another chore on the list.
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "I'm about to go meet Ethan," I replied, my voice laced with annoyance.
Ethan had been my best friend since kindergarten. We met in Pennsylvania, thanks to our moms, who were friends. From the moment we met, it felt like we had a connection that transcended time. But when I was seven, my mom decided we had to move again, and I left Ethan behind, along with the life we had started to build.
Three years ago, we returned to Pennsylvania, and I was determined to rekindle our friendship. Ethan and I picked up right where we left off, but everything felt different. He had changed. I had changed. And while I was grateful to be back, the return came with its own set of complications.
Now, I found myself crushing on him after all these years, but it was complicated. I never had the courage to confess my feelings, especially after discovering he had a girlfriend. They had been together for four years, and though I tried to hide my feelings, it was like carrying a weight on my chest. The more I watched him from the sidelines, the more my heart ached.
"Maybe I can pay you for doing the chores?" my mom suggested, interrupting my thoughts. Her offer caught me off guard, and a smile crept onto my face.
I had been trying to save up for college, but it seemed like every time I had money, I ended up spending it on outings with Ethan or succumbing to a sale. Finding a job now would complicate things, especially since I hadn't even started school yet.
"That sounds great, but I'm still going out today," I said, a teasing lilt in my voice. "But...you can count on me," I added with a wink, making her chuckle.
I turned and headed back upstairs, the weight of the day pressing down on me. I walked toward my nightstand to unplug my phone, which had been charging for the past few hours.
Where are you?
I'm about to leave the house. My mom just distracted me.
Hurry up or I'm not paying for your drink! >:(
Okay, mister cranky.
Are you at our usual spot?
Duh. Where else would I be?
A grin spread across my face as I read the messages. I grabbed my keys from the table and pulled on a sweatshirt before making my way back downstairs.
"Don't forget our deal," my mom reminded me as I reached the last staircase.
I stopped, smirking at her as she walked toward me. "What do you think?" I asked, taking in her outfit.
She was dressed in a silky red dress that hugged her figure, accentuating her curves. She twirled slowly, and I couldn't help but admire how stunning she looked.
"You look great," I said sincerely. "But please don't bring any of your dates home. It makes breakfast awkward."
My mom laughed, a light sound that eased some of the tension in the air. "I'll be home by eleven, and I expect the chores to be done," she said, giving me a peck on the forehead before heading toward the front door.
"You don't have to repeat it, you know," I replied, annoyance creeping into my tone.
She paused, turning back for a moment to look at me, a fond smile on her face. "I love you," she said, her voice warm.
"Love you too," I replied, trying to hide the cringe that washed over me.
As she stepped outside, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I fished it out, rolling my eyes at the name on the caller ID before answering.
"You're so impatient," I teased, putting the phone on speaker mode as I placed it on the staircase, pulling my sweatshirt over my head.
"I know, and I hate that I am," Ethan admitted, sounding exasperated. "I'm ordering without you," he added, the boredom evident in his tone.
I grabbed my phone and made my way toward the front door. I opened it, stepping outside and locking it behind me. "I told you to wait!"
"I am waiting. I'm just really thirsty," he replied.
I walked toward the garage, unlocking my car. "Why don't you just tell me what you wanted instead of going out today?" he asked, his voice taking on a whiny tone. "You know my time is precious."
"Precious because you're with your girlfriend?" I shot back, my voice laced with bitterness.
"You know that's not true," he insisted. I could hear the frustration in his voice as I climbed into the car and started the engine.
"I'm leaving now," I said, buckling my seatbelt as I shifted into drive, pulling out of the garage and onto the road.
I had invited Ethan out because I wanted to tell him something important, something I had been keeping to myself for far too long. It was time to confront my feelings. I couldn't continue to live in this limbo of unspoken emotions, watching him love someone else while my heart broke silently.
As I drove toward our usual meeting spot, my mind raced with possibilities. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if I lost him as a friend? But I couldn't let fear hold me back any longer. I didn't want to look back on my life with regrets, wishing I had been honest when I had the chance.
***