Disarming Dakota | ✓

»1. West Coast«

It was the month before my senior year when my mother came to the conclusion that something—something that she had knowingly dismissed for most of the summer—was wrong with me. And somehow, that was how I ended up moving in with my biological father in Crescent Heights before I'd be off for my last year of high school. If it was up to me, I'd still be in Maine, waking up at three in the afternoon and inhaling cheese puffs for breakfast.

"Silvia, at least smile a little more," Mom said as she loaded the last of my stuff in the back of our minivan. "I know this trip away from here isn't what you want, but it's for the best. I'll miss you every second, you know that."

That wasn't what she really said. It was what I'd like for her to have said to me--being my mom and all. Instead, she stood silently, smoking a cigarette to it's stub. White puffs streamed out of her mouth, tilting her head slightly up in the air. She glanced down at me after and smiled weakly. For a heartbeat, I could actually see how dad would've found her pretty.

She used to model, or so she told me. She did some photo shoots down in New York for a few years while taking classes at a local college. Not NYU, if that's what you're thinking. Some state college or something. It doesn't matter because she never finished her course. She did--however--meet my father that way.

"Do you have the money for your plane ticket?" She asked, heading toward the driver's seat.

"Yeah, I've got it." I'd taken it upon myself to save up for a trip I didn't want to go on. I'd never leave it up to my mother.

Mom froze before the driver's door, hand on handle. "Can I see how much you've got?"

"No." I stated firmly. "I've enough, that's all that should matter."

She grumbled something incoherent under her breath and jerked open the door, jumping inside. "Get the fuck in, then. I don't have all day. I've got to pick up Kevin at noon."

Kevin was her deadbeat of a boyfriend that mooched off our small amount of money she got from child support from my dad. It was money she should be using on me, but that wasn't the case. She used it for her boyfriend instead.

Now that I was leaving, I knew mom would be missing one thing about me. The constant child support checks. She'll be fine, I assured myself, she still has unemployment checks coming in.

"Kevin is a grown man." I spat. "Why doesn't he drive himself back to his place? Or take the damn bus for all I care," I murmured my last words.

"Hey, I heard that. You don't talk about Kevin like that. He's gonna be your step-father one of these days," She shouted.

I rolled my eyes, You've been saying that for the past four years. If he wanted to marry you, he would've done it already. I didn't say this out loud, though.

"You better at least have some gas money."

"The tank is full," I told her, sliding into the passenger seat. "I filled it up last night." I quickly added before she'd ask. I made sure I had enough money to have filled up the tank before my trip to the airport.

She scoffed, buckling herself in. "You didn't have to do that. I could've done it myself."

"I'm aware of that."

"You know I don't like you messing with my car," she huffed.

This was her form of a 'thank you.' I liked to pretend that she was a typical mom sometimes. Like the ones I saw on TV and in movies. The kind of mom that made cookies in the kitchen, and not Meth. The kind that talked boys with her daughter and sneaked a quarter under your pillow, pretending to be the Tooth Fairy--instead of stealing money. It was pretty lame to admit, but I would constantly make-up fake conversations on how it would feel to have a real mother.

During the long drive toward the airport, I counted all of the reasons why I was glad for departing Maine. A lot of them ended with how ecstatic I'd be to not have to babysit adults. Another reoccurring thought was that, for the first time in my entire life, I could finally be a normal teenager. What did that even mean?

. . .

No tears were shed as I left my mother's car and entered the airport. She didn't exit her car to follow me to the check-in point. I entered the building like how I went in for most important things in my life, alone. I paused after I stepped inside, turning around slightly to see her drive off into the busy traffic. I'd like to say that I was heartbroken by her incapability to show care for me, but that would be a complete lie.

I'd lost my mother the same day I'd lost my father. He'd stolen her sanity as he swept up a second woman, leaving us in the dust. I rushed to reattach her heart to her chest, but there wasn't much I could've done for the unrecognizable monster he'd created.

. . .

I'd never seen Crescent Heights for myself. Dad had shown me photos growing up a few times and mom spoke about their wedding there, and how elegant it had been, but other than that, I was clueless on how the place looked.

The reunion between my father and I was nothing to sob over. There was quite a lot of restrained tension to be honest. And when we did decide to talk, we would interrupt each other, wanting to speak at the same time. This happened about twelve times. Yes, I counted. I had a tendency of counting. Backward and forward; words and numbers.

You name it, I've counted it.

"How was the trip over?" Dad inquired softly and turned on the smooth jazz radio in his shiny BMW. His world was so calm compared to mine, and I could tell simply by the choice of music he picked and the gorgeous car he drove with its minimal scratches and dents. Unlike my mom's dusty minivan (the only thing she had that identified her as a mother).

"Well I slept for the most part," I said while yawning. "So I guess it was alright."

His laughter filled up the space inside the car. "That's good indeed. Did your mother buy any school supplies for you? School is starting pretty soon for us here." I huffed. "I'll take that as a no then. That's all right. I know Hunter and Maven are all ready for their senior year. So I can have Evelyn take you school shopping before classes next Monday."

Hunter and Maven were my twin step-brothers. I'd planned on meeting them at my dad's wedding to their mother, but mom wouldn't let me take the plane over. Even after dad paid for the plane ticket.

I agreed to the little shopping trip for school supplies with his wife Evelyn. I'd never met her either and was hoping she wasn't some wicked step-mom from those fairy tales we all read as children.

The wheels crunched over gravel, easing into a quiet neighborhood. Two story homes with beautiful, well-manicured front lawns were lined up before me.

I hadn't taken note of the way my nails clawed against the leather seats as we neared my father's house, but I did notice my heartbeat, pounding louder and louder. My stomach churning and mouth popping open as we got closer and closer. I gazed up at the three story structure that stood tall into the cloudless sky.

Breathe, I told myself. They are already family. It's no big deal.

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Song: West Coast by Coconut Records

The "West Coast" song by Lana Del Rey is amazing also.

Lyrics:

❝For a second there I thought you disappeared

It rains a lot this time of year

And we both go together if one falls down

I talk out loud like you're still around.

No, No,

And I miss you.❞