hopefully this is long enough idk
My father had told me that men did not cry so I listened to him, even if my jaw did burn from the effort of stopping my tears.
Chapter Seventeen- Mama
Ryan's POV
"I guess I need to get a job soon," I said as I shielded my eyes from the bright sun. I couldn't erase the smile that was etched into my face. The thought of living with Logan and taking care of him made my heart sing with joy. I could imagine waking up in the morning to a beautiful boy in my bed or even, watching Logan as he cooked breakfast for us.
"You could help at one of those repair places. I know you're really good at bikes," he suggested as he turned to his side, his head leaning against his palm so he could see my face.
I turned my face towards him, taking in his beauty as the sun's rays illuminated his face. "I guess I could. Is your mother paying for your college?"
"I got a scholarship so she won't have to pay as much. She's also paying for the apartment until I am able to pay for it myself."
"You didn't talk to her about us living together, did you?"
He glanced down at his lap before looking out at the blue ocean. "I didn't get a chance to tell her but I think she'll be accepting." I continued to stare at him, wondering what he was thinking about it. I could tell there was something on his mind but I decided against asking him.
"How's your father?" he asked.
"I was actually about to go home. He's probably worried about me, if he's even there or even noticed that I was gone."
"He called my mother and asked where you were." I sat up, confused and surprised that my father actually cared about where I was. If he was suddenly worried about where I was, then something was definitely going on.
"I have to go." I stood up, brushing off the sand that had accumulated on my jeans. Logan stood up as well.
"I'll go with you."
"I think it's best if you didn't come with me." He seemed disappointed but also understanding. With one last kiss on his cheek, I turned to leave, heading towards my bike that was parked in the parking lot.
"What about a ride home?" he called out, reminding me that he had ran all the way here. I nodded my head before he ran to join me, his hair bouncing in the wind with his cheeks turning a bright red.
With our hands intertwined, we walked to my bike until we eventually hopped on and drove off towards his home. The image of his smiling mother came into mind, reminding me of my own dead mother. That was when I realized how long it had been since I had last seen my mother. I decided today was the day.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" Logan asked as he got off my motorcycle. A smile crept onto my face again as I watched Logan. He seemed so small and fragile, making me want to protect him to my best ability.
"Probably," I replied as I started the engine again.
"Probably?" He crossed his arms, a pout forming on his face as he diverted his eyes. It was obvious that he wanted to see me again and it was incredibly adorable to me. That was one thing that I loved about Logan. He made me feel wanted, considering I was always unwanted when I was younger.
"I mean if you insist, I guess so."
"But wait, we have school tomorrow. You have to go."
"Do I really?" With a smile and a shake of his head, he turned away before entering his household. I left after that.
On my way home, I couldn't stop thinking Logan. I had never felt so loved and wanted in my lifetime. The last time I was shown love was before my mother died because at that time, I actually had a loving family. My heart ached every time I thought about those times and it yearned to see those days again.
Once back at home, I prepared myself for whatever punishment I might receive. I knew my father was going to be angry with me and I knew he was probably preparing his fist so he could harm me as much as possible.
But when I entered the home, I noticed how silent it was. My first thought was that my father was just asleep, a beer can in his hand like usual. But when I entered the living room, he was no where to be seen. I checked the kitchen, the garage, and even my parent's old bedroom that wss no longer used any more. But my father was gone.
Relieved and slightly confused, I left the home, deciding it was time to visit my mother before it became too dark. I made sure to grab some flowers from the bush in front of our house and a two cans of red soda, just to surprise her. I remembered clearly that red Fanta was her favorite drink.
I arrived at my destination in less than 20 minutes and noticed how empty the cemetery was. I walked slowly and quietly as if I was afraid I might wake the dead. But the grave I was looking for was close to where I parked so I didn't have to tip toe for long.
"Hey, mom. Sorry I'm late," I stated as I approached the familiar grave. The name 'Emilia Leonetti' was engraved on the tombstone, causing my heart to ache even more. "I know it's been awhile since I've visited you. I brought you these, though."
I placed the pink flowers over her grave, my throat constricting as I tried to hold back my tears. It was always hard for me to visit my mother and no matter how much time passed, I still cried for her.
"I brought your favorites too." I sat down in front of her, popped open the cans before placing one near her grave and taking a sip from mine. My eyes stared at the can in my hand as I tried to force myself not to cry. But I failed and a single tear rolled down my cheek before traveling until it hit the ground beneath me.
"A lot has happened since you left me, mama." I breathed deeply, my hand moving to my face to wipe my tears that had already fallen. "I met a guy. He's beautiful, really. You would love him." I chuckled to myself, remembering the amazing person.
"I think I've fallen in love. He's so smart and artistic. His art is amazing. I should bring him one day. He would love to meet you." I placed my can down, my throat unable to swallow any liquids since I was straining to keep down my own liquids.
I could imagine my mother now as she wiped my tears away with the pads of her thumbs and told me that it was okay to cry.
"It's okay to cry sometimes, Ryan. You don't always have to be strong," she had said one day after I had fallen. She clearly instructed that I not climb on the fence in our backyard but I was too stubborn to listen, thinking I was too strong to get hurt.
Once I had fallen, I refused to cry because that was a form of weakness. My father had told me that men did not cry so I listened to him, even if my jaw did burn from the effort of stopping my tears.
"But if I'm not strong, who will be? I have to be strong for mama." I had whispered the last part, mostly because I was reminding myself but it seemed to make a huge impact on her.
I tried to think of my family as a happy one when my mother was still alive but even when she was, my father was still an abusive father. What had caused him to be this way will forever stay a mystery to me.
I glanced at my jeans, noticed how soaked they were from tears, and forced myself to stop. "I have to be strong for mama," I whispered before tilting my head upwards with a huge fake smile plastered on my face.