Stay

21

“This happens every year.”

“And every year I get what I actually asked for. Tradition, baby…”

“At least we have a tradition.”

“Just call me Tevye."

Giggling our way through the mall, we walk towards the Sephora. Mom lets go of our linked arms, skipping her way past the store doors. I couldn’t take her anywhere. She was like a child at a candy shop, bright blue eyes wide in sheer joy.

-

There was a reason why I always hesitated going shopping with my mother. As much as I loved spending time with her, she was a ball of unreleased energy. For someone that didn’t enjoy the taste of coffee, she always seemed to be on a caffeine kick. I was beginning to suspect that dad was switching her decaffeinated herbal teas for caffeinated black teas. She put so much sugar in those things anyways that she would have never known the difference.

Either that or she was secretly a four year old child in a forty year old body. That was the only explanation that I had for her hyped behaviour. However, regardless of my mother’s overzealousness, the day was still fantastic.

There was something refreshing about spending time with your mom. They understood you… knew you the best. She wasn’t afraid to call you out on your crap and tell you how it is. I had been so far gone in my head that I hadn’t realized how stressed I was becoming. I was running myself dry – one thing that I had promised myself and everyone else that I knew I wouldn’t do that.  I am in desperate need of a holiday.

The drive from the restaurant was loud. The Go-Go’s Our Lips Are Sealed blasts from the speakers while my mother sings along with them.

“Can you hear them? They talk about us, telling lies well that’s no surprise…” Mom shouts, her body wiggling around in her seat. “I can’t hear you Evie,” she scolds.

“Mom…”

“Evie…”

“Fine,” I grumble. “Our lips are sealed. Pay no mind to what they say, doesn’t bother anyway…” I sing along softly under my breath.

“I can’t hear you,” she shouts.

“Well it’s because my lips are sealed.”

“Fine then… it doesn’t bother me anyway,” she huffs.

I peek over at her at the corner of my eye to see her sneaking a glance back at me. This then results in both of us bursting out into a chorus of giggles.

“We’re practically living out the music video right now,” Mom comments, “Driving in the car with our sassy hair and too-cool-for-you attitudes.”

“All we need to do now is jump into a fountain.”  

“No thank you. I refuse to jump into a pool of ice cold water in this weather,” she replies, shaking her head frantically.

“Belinda…”

“Sorry Gina.”

I lean back against the seat, my lips quirked into a content smile. Mom continues to drive back to our house, the music now switched over to a slow Pat Benatar song. I look out the window, searching behind the nighttime darkness for a glimpse of the ocean. I crack open the window, breathing in the fresh ocean air.

There was something comforting about the ocean salt encrusted winds. It always brought back memories of childhood and the happiness that tagged along with it. I was blessed in that sense. I didn’t have a terrible childhood. When I think back to when I was a kid, I am only greeted with happy memories. Not many people could say that about their childhood. It was a calming feeling. I couldn’t have asked for a better set of parents and a better hometown.

The familiar house that I had spent all twenty years of my life comes into my line of vision. The anxiety that never seemed to leave my chest eases when we drive past the familiar white picket fence.

“Home sweet home hon,” mom whispers.

“It’s good to be home,” I say back. Even though I was only home for the weekend, there was no place I’d rather be.  

-

It’s funny. When you’re a kid you can’t wait to grow up and move out. Your own space, your own food… living on your own was the dream. But the moment that you grow up, graduate high school and move out, you can’t wait to go back home. Sure it’s great having your own place.  I love having my own apartment and car… but it was still nice to have that one place you can always go back to. I don’t know what I would do with myself if I didn’t have home.

I bring my duvet up to my cheeks, cuddling underneath it and soaking up its warmth. My head lays against the pillows… did my bed get comfier? It must have. I don’t remember it ever being this comfortable.

My eyes begin to fall shut. Sleep begins to fight to win me over, and I could feel my body releasing me to its arms. But before I fully shut down, my phone begins to vibrate.

“You’re kidding me,” I groan, reaching over towards my nightstand and unplugging my phone from the charger.

A text from Niall?

“You’re not home.”

My forehead scrunches in confusion,

“No… I went home for the weekend. What’s up?”

His reply comes quickly after: “Shit. Right you went home. I was outside your door for fifteen minutes.”

I search my memory for any past conversations that I recently had with Niall. Did we make plans to hang out? Lately I’ve been forgetting these things. I’m such a terrible friend. “Oh… everything okay?”

“Ya! Bought a new record and wanted to show you” he replies soon after.

I smile even though he can’t see it. Of course he had a new record. How typical of him.

"Sorry you waited outside for nothing! I’ll be home Sunday. Show me then?”

“All good Jones. Can’t wait!” he texts back, a smiley face added soon after.

I set my phone back on top of the nightstand, already excited to go back. Maybe coming home wasn’t always great after all…

 -

VOTE + COMMENT please! 

A-N: Shorter Chapter today!

First off - I love all of you. You're the best readers a girl could ever ask for. Thank you for your constant support, encouraging words, and feedback. It means a ton to hear what you think about this story! 

Second off - Who is going to the Vancouver OTRA show July 17th? I'm curious! 

(Elizabeth Banks as Estelle Jones)