Life Is (Mostly) Beautiful

2. Meant To Be

"This is the final call for flight 312. All passangers must be at the gate now, doors are closing in two minutes!" The overhead speaker called.

Huffing and shufflling up to the terminal, I handed my ticket to the airline gate agent at the last minute.

"Barely made it," he tsked, and waved me through to the gate.

It's not that I wanted to be late, but between finding a decent airbnb, buying a ticket, and making the 40 minute drive to the airport via Lyft, it was a lot to do. It was just my luck that I'd managed to find a last minute ticket to Minneapolis anyways.

Minneapolis.

I'd woken up that morning in the motel with a renewed sense of purpose. I wanted the life I knew I deserved, and the reconnection with my mom that I desperately needed. I could only do that in Minneapolis, the city I'd left so long ago.

***

Seven Years Ago

"Mom, mom!" I yelled from the bottom of the basement staircase. Without waiting for a response, I bounded up the stairs toward my parent's bedroom on the main floor. "Mama!" I yelled, frantically banging on the door.

"Girl you betta be shot or dying to be banging on my door like this! And what I tell you about running up the stairs--are you trying to break this house some more?" My mama chatised from the other side of the door with her bathrobe wrapped around her.

"Mama-"

"Is yo daddy back? I need the EBT cards for my medicine," she said, before erupting into a violent coughing fit. She was trying to quit smoking, and called the nicotene patches she used to help her, "medicine".

"Mama no-" I said impatiently, clutching the envelope tightly in my hand.

"Then what's all this yelling for? Shit chile, I'm trying to get some sleep!"

She was fixing to slam the door in my face, so I just let it out, "Mama I got in!"

"Got into where? You ain't becoming no gangbanger, you hear me girl?"

"Nooo, I got into USC, the school I told you about. I talked to the financial aid office, they think they can get me a sc-"

"Whatchu say girl?" my mother asked, dangerously low.

"I-I'm going to school, mama," I said softly.

"Well ain't this some shit?" she wheezed. The last time I brought it up, she made it clear to me that she didn't raise "no uppity brat", and almost convinced me that I wasn't smart enough to get in. I hadn't told her that I was applying anyway, and I thought me getting in would change her mind.

"Mama, it's a good thing," I said perking up. "I can get a good education and get a good job-"

"Because yo mama ain't good enough for you? Girl, I've worked my ass off since I was 14 having you and putting food on the table so you could survive, and this is how you treat me? You want to leave and be some uppity brat because I aint good enough for you? Well let me tell you something Miss Alena Mae Parker...you ain't shit either! You ain't gon make it out there, and if you leave, you ain't welcome here!"

By the time she was done with her rant, tears were spilling softly down my cheeks. I wasn't even phased when she snatched my acceptance letter from my hands and tore it up.

"Now I'm trying to help you girl. No need letting no high exceptions bring you down," she said softly. "Now go on and finish your chores before you get me back to smoking again."

With a heavy feeling in my stomach and breakdown coming on, I trudged back to the basement where my room was. Everything down here was cold, damp, and smelt moldy, but it was the only place for me to sleep.