Traffic Jam

the first

"Mom, calm down. Everything is fine," I sigh into my cellphone as I open my car door, pulling my sunglasses down off my head and over my eyes. 

I can hear my mother on the other line, and her breathing is quick and fast. "I just worry about you two so much," She says, and I roll my eyes as I turn the car on and put it in reverse. The air conditioning comes on and I turn it down a bit.

My mom tends to worry about everything way too much. She always was the paranoid member of our family. One day she thought she smelled coffee, only no one had made any, so she announced that she thought she had a brain tumor. Apparently a symptom of a brain tumor is smelling things that aren't there. Yeah, she's a bit whacked. 

I mentioned the fact that we were out of hairspray and she went crazy on me. I was just trying to make conversation, and she acted like it was World War 3 and the victims of the war were going to be every stand of our hair.

I turn the steering wheel down the main road leading to my house and all my bracelets jangle on my wrist, alerting my eyes to my watch. I need to be at Lizzie's dance studio in an hour to pick her up, which means I have to go to the store and do all the shopping and then take it all back to the house and put it all away before picking her up.

My mom continues on about how much fun she's having and I'm half listening, but I'm also concentrated on driving more so. My mom would kill me if she knew I was talking to her on the phone while driving. Even though I'm eighteen she still worries about me like I'm five.

"Okay, mom, I have to go now," I say as I pull into the parking lot of the grocery store and begin searching the aisles for a clear parking space. 

"Alright, I'll call you tomorrow." My mom says and then we say our goodbyes and I hang up the phone. I drag my purse over from the passenger seat and throw my phone into it before opening the door and climbing out of my massive truck. Well, it's not really mine, it's my dad's. But when my parents left for their summer in Hawaii, I got to use whichever car I wanted to drive me and my younger sister around, and so I chose the truck. My parents have already been gone for almost two months, and they have about a month more before they'll come home.

They were so hesitant about leaving me and Lizzie all alone, but we have a ton of neighbors that love us and know us, and so in the end they went. Granted, my mother calls every single day and the neighbors practically live at my house, my mom makes them come check on us so often, but they still left. 

I walk inside the store, and plop my sunglasses into my purse and dig out my list at the same time. Grabbing a grocery cart, I blow my bangs out of my eyes and start down the first aisle. 

I throw three boxes of mac and cheese in the cart, and then bite my lip before throwing three more in. Lizzie and I try to eat healthy most of the time and not take advantage of not being under mom and dad's thumb this summer, but every once in a while, we don't have enough time to make a proper lunch or dinner. And that's where the delicious meal of starches and cheese that isn't really cheese comes in.

The stuff of heaven.

I continue on, grabbing milk and eggs and nutella. You know, the basic food groups.When I reach the register I dig out my credit card and swipe it through. My parents made sure we had plenty of money when they left, so I don't have to worry about that sort of thing. Just getting myself and Lizzie on time everywhere, that's all.

When all my groceries have been bagged, I wheel the cart out to my car and start loading them up in the place between the front seat and the back of the cab part. I get back in and throw my purse back over to the other side of the car and start it.

I turn on the radio and drive out of the parking lot, trying to decide how long it'll take me to get home, get the groceries put away, and drive over to get Lizzie. The dance studio is a few miles from the house, but I think I can do it if I go fast enough.