Westhaven

Packing it all up- Rowan

"Are you sure you're okay with this, sweetheart?" My mom asks for the tenth time. I push the cardboard flaps down harder than necessary before sealing the box with a strip of tape.

"I told you I'm fine with it, Mom." I set the box labelled Kitchen/Misc in Mom's neat handwriting down and lean my hip against the counter as I turn to face her. Her dark hair is in a messy bun, and she has a Sharpie tucked behind her ear. "I promise."

    Her shoulders loosen, but the tension around her eyes doesn't disappear. "I just..." She fiddles with the marker cap. "I want you to know that we don't have to do this if you aren't comfortable. No matter what happens, I'll always choose you and your needs over anything else." The look on her face makes my chest ache. I cross the kitchen and wrap my arms around her neck before leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

My mom is a whopping five foot one whereas I'm five foot seven thanks to my dad's genetics. I never met him. He died when I was still being formed in my mom's belly, but she tells me I'm the spitting image of him with my light hair and tall and sleek build. I love the height, but it would have been great if I were given at least some boobs and ass. I'm built like a board. Flat enough to surf on. What she lacks in height, she makes up for in curves. Unfortunately, I inherited everything except the ability to fill out a pair of jeans.

"I really am okay with moving, Mom." I squeeze her shoulders before stepping back. "Actually I'm excited about it." It's not a lie. I'm nervous, sure, but moving out of Pennsylvania to Maine feels like a fresh start. For both of us. For mom because she's finally met someone who treats her the way she deserves to be treated. For me because... well. People suck.

    "I just hate that you'll be starting over your senior year and leaving all your friends behind. It makes me feel so selfish."

I scoff before stepping back. "There's not a selfish bone in your body," I grab the tape off the counter and start taping up the rest of the boxes while she folds packing paper beside me. "Besides, Grant is cool. He practically worships the ground you walk on. I'd be disappointed if you gave that up just to stay here." Her eyes immediately go shiny, which means she's clearly trying not to cry. I hate when she does that.

Growing up, it was always the two of us against the world. Me and mom. Mom and me. No matter how hard things got, we figured them out together. She was working late? I waited up with microwaved popcorn and bad reality TV. I got sick? She slept on the floor beside my bed even when I told her she didn't have to. When I was ten and convinced monsters lived in my closet, she sat there for two hours with a flashlight proving every corner was monster-free.

We've always been each other's person. Which is why I'll never tell her the truth about my friends. Or, more accurately, my lack of them.

She doesn't need to know that I don't have friends anymore. I really only had one friend, Jacqueline, and that ship crashed and burned into a blazing inferno.

Jackie and I grew up together. We were thick as thieves our whole lives. Shared sleepovers, birthdays, secrets, inside jokes... the whole package. Then she started dating Josh, and somehow the girl I'd considered a sister turned into someone I barely recognized.

Mom loves Jackie and it would break her heart if she learned what a bitch her pseudo-daughter turned out to be. It would kill her if she knew how badly things ended.

"Besides," I continue, forcing brightness into my voice, "this will be a fun adventure we get to go on together." I tape another box shut and glance over my shoulder. "My mom caught herself a silver fox and domesticated him." She finally loses it and bursts into laughter. The goofy snort-laugh that always makes me laugh too.

"Oh my God."

"What?" I grin.

"You are ridiculous."

"You love me."

"I do."

The answer comes so quickly neither of us has to think about it. Just like breathing. Her smile softens. "You're the best daughter a mom could ask for, you know that?" She bumps her shoulder against my arm and I bump her right back.

"You're stuck with me."

"Good."

For a second, neither of us says anything. The apartment is half empty now. Boxes line the walls. Picture frames have been taken down, leaving pale rectangles behind. Every room echoes. I've lived here most of my life, and suddenly it feels like we're already ghosts in it.

Mom reaches over and smoothes a piece of hair behind my ear. It's such an automatic gesture that I don't think she even realizes she's doing it. She used to do the same thing when I was little. She still does it when she gets deep into her feelings.

My entire life it's just been us. She's never even hinted at liking a guy before. Losing my father really did a number on her.  Then, two months ago out of the blue, she came home from a work conference and couldn't stop gushing about some guy she met named Grant.

At first I was skeptical, apprehensive even, then I met him. The man survived my interrogation with impressive composure. He answered every question I threw at him and volunteered information I hadn't even thought to ask.

He's forty-five, two years older than mom, and has never been married. He doesn't have any kids of his own but he's raising his nephew, Blake, who's my age.

Grant is some hot-shot lawyer with a net worth that makes my eyes bulge out and comes from old money. So my mom, who's only ever been with my father, landed herself a genuinely good guy with no ex-wife drama and no hidden red flags. Her patience seems to have paid off. No way will I ruin this for her. She's happier than she's ever been.

Still, this move feels sudden. They haven't been dating long at all, mostly long distance, and now we're packing up our lives and moving in with him.

To his credit though, Grant has flown in almost every weekend to stay with us just so they can spend time together. It's sweet. More importantly, it gives me hope that once I'm off to college next year she won't be alone. I'll never tell her, but that's been a big fear of mine for the past few years.

Mom and I are close, basically best friends, and strangely co-dependent on one another. Mom lost my dad, the love of her life, and I'm the only part of him she has left. I'm a loner that's not great with people. We've spent years holding each other together. Maybe that's healthy. Maybe it isn't. Either way, it's ours.

Grant is a good guy and I've got a great feeling about all this. Besides, even if Maine turns out to be terrible, it will only be for a year. Just until I finish high school and then I'm off to college. I can suffer for a bit if it means my mom finally gets another chance at happiness. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to find a piece of happiness for myself too.