Beautiful Thing

Two

It was cold enough to give you goosebumps. The sun peeked over the tops of the trees revealing little drops of dew on the grass around the patio. You sat in a patio chair and pulled up another to prop your feet on. Birds chirped, welcoming the warmth of the sun. Cars honked in the distance as Friday morning rush hour began.

You adjusted the notebook on your lap, adjusting your arm so you could write comfortably. With a deep breath, you wrote the first word. Soon, more came and before you were aware of it, you'd filled the page and needed to turn over to a clean sheet. This was your escape. When the world seemed to close in on you, drowning you in sorrows and regrets, you'd write poetry. You'd turn the ugliness inside into something tangible. It was a way to cleanse your heart of the heavy stuff. A way to keep going.

Truth be told, since graduating from high school, you were never hit with a lightbulb moment that led you to that thing you wanted to do with your life. You had an interest in many things, but nothing you could see yourself doing for money. For a career. Nothing seemed like it was good enough. Something you could be proud of if someone asked.

Still, your dad pressured you to go to college. General Studies seemed like a good idea at the time...

You exhaled hard, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes. You wouldn't cry again. You don't need his approval. You don't need anyone's approval. You don't need anyone.

Yet, the tears still flowed.

'Why am I like this?' you thought miserably.

The patio door slid open. Mama poked her head out, "You're up early. I thought you'd be in bed."

You blinked rapidly in some attempt to dry your eyes before you looked at her. "No. I felt like writing."

Her gaze lingered on your face for a bit longer than necessary, and she disappeared behind the blinds. You looked back at your notebook, annoyed to see tear stains on the page. Again. One day, you'll write something that doesn't make you cry. Dishes clinked and clanked as Mama moved around in the kitchen. You caught her mumbling to herself and, for a brief moment, wondered if you'd pissed her off, too.

You were in the middle of a new poem when she came back outside. "You looked like you needed this." She set a cup of tea in front of you as she placed her own cup down in front of an empty chair.

"Thanks, Mama." You took a second to admire the steam that rose from the smooth pink porcelain cup before blowing it away. She took a seat next to you. "I do."

She hummed and pulled a small, rectangular white box from under her arm. She placed it on the table between you. SEOULMATE. Mama picked up her cup with care and blew on it, stirring her drink with a small spoon. "Have you heard of it?"

"Yeah." You nodded as you eyed the box. "There's all sorts of reviews on it on YouTube. It helps you locate and contact your soulmate. It's being promoted by one of my favorite Kpop groups, GOT7." The pieces clicked, and you frowned. "You want me to find my soulmate?"

She nodded and put her cup down with a sad frown. "I feel like I should do more to protect you, but I just don't know how without going to jail."

You squeezed her hand, touched. She rarely cried in front of you or Aubrey. "Mama, don't. You're doing everything you can. And I appreciate and love you for it."

Mama wiped her eyes. "I thought this might make up for the shit storm of parenting we're doing. I planned to give it to you later, but after last night, I thought you could use a positive distraction." She pushed the box towards you. "So take it. Go find your person."

"And then what?" You looked at her. "I don't wanna leave you to deal with him on your own."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "I can deal with him just fine. Besides, I have Aubrey as backup. But you," she stood up and came around the table to take your face in her hands, "you need a break. I know school's tough. You didn't say anything, but I could tell his words cut you." She kissed your forehead and let go. "I'll keep telling you until I turn blue in the face, but baby, you gotta do what makes you happy. You! Do you remember how many times I asked if you were sure about college? About taking general studies?"