beam | a ray or shaft of light
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3/22/17
"I CAN'T BELIEVE we are actually doing this," my mother repeats for the millionth time excitingly this week as we cruise down the interstate in a rented jeep with the windows down. A warm laugh escapes my mother and a smile spreads across her lips making the skin around her eyes crinkle.
"You've said that," I remind her with a smile I can't stop. I haven't seen my mother this happy and carefree in a long while and my heart expands in my chest at the sight of it now. Content winds through my bones knowing even though I will be leaving her soon she will be okay without me so close.
"I know," she laughs. "It's just something we've talked about for years and I can't believe we're actually doing it," she tells me as she shakes her head as if still in awe we kept our word on this trip.
Since I was a freshman in high school we've had this plan to drive across the country for my senior year spring break. Drive from Easton to California, and stop in different cities in between. See towns we've never heard of, stop at random food stands along the way, meet interesting people and gain new friends, and of course celebrate my eighteenth birthday. This was always going to be our last grand adventure together. Well at least until I graduate college. European backpacking here we come.
My teeth graze my bottom lip with pause. "Mom," I start slowly pulling my wind blown hair into a ponytail.
Sensing my more serious tone she rolls up the windows all of the way so she can hear me. "Yeah?" she asks, her eyebrows drawing together in questioning.
Her similar eyes meet mine, watching me. "Thank you," I tell her earnestly.
My mother tilts her head in confusion. "For what?" she questions with a chuckle.
"For this," I say, lifting my hands and motioning at the car, the trip we are on. "For everything," I clarify. "For taking time off work to do this with me. For pushing me to go to a school far away and supporting me through the next part of my life." My words fall off towards the end as my throat clogs with overwhelming emotions.
Water lines my mother's eyes as she flickers her gaze between the road and me. She sniffles a few times as if trying to push the tears away. "You're going to make me cry Maeleigh," she complains playfully.
"Don't cry," I tell her with a laugh. "I just want you to know I appreciate you," I say, needing her to know how grateful I am for her in my life, and what she's done for me to get where I am today.
My mother places a hand over mine and squeezes. "I'm glad we are doing this also," she agrees. "I'm going to miss you," she says with a hint of sadness passing through her eyes.
"Same," I breathe as a small flash of pain strikes my chest. My head falls against the headrest as a blur of trees pass by and the sky begins to turn pink as the sun starts to set. We left early to get a head start on the drive and it's crazy to think the day is almost drawing to a close.
I've been ignoring texts from Francesca all day because the guilt of being with Asher has been gnawing away at me. This darkness that's been growing inside me I've come to hate just as much as I love, and I fear what it may turn me into. "Mom, I think I've done something bad," I say before I can stop myself. The words fall out as if I need to speak them to someone, as if I need to get this weight off of my chest.
My mother scoffs at me. "I doubt that," she says in disbelief. I almost want to laugh, if only she knew what I've done, what I've become under Asher's flaming touch.
I chew on the inside of my cheek as worry rushes through me. Should I tell my mother, should I come clean? "I did...I am," I tell her with a sigh as heat pricks my skin in shame.
The smile drops from my mother's face and a wave of seriousness takes over. "What is it?" she asks quickly.
I pick at my nails as anxiety weaves it's way through my veins. I never thought I would share even a piece of my relationship with Asher with anyone, let alone my mother. But here I am realizing I need to tell someone, I need to feel less isolated. "I think I like someone," I admit to my mother and myself slowly. The first time I've spoken those words aloud. "I didn't think I would. I thought being around him wouldn't change me, or my heart..." I trail hating myself for feeling this way. I keep telling myself Asher and I will only be physical. Only be for fun. But somewhere along the way things have changed and morphed and become something more.
My mother nods slowly as if she understands, though I don't know how. But I guess they do say mothers know best for a reason. "But it has," she finishes for me as if recalling from her own personal experience.
"Yeah," I disclose in agreement. "But I can't be with him," I state with a small shake of my head as if I have to remind myself that Asher isn't mine. That he never will be.
"Why not?" she asks not following my random admission.
I shrug as my tongue darts out to wet my lips. "Because he isn't right for me. We are going to different schools and he isn't the type of person I should be with," I tell my mother the facts of why Asher and I cannot be together. But as the words leave my lips my heart wants to protest. It beats loudly in my chest as if trying to yell at me and acknowledge a truth. A truth I've been keeping buried beneath the surface ever since that day in his kitchen.
"Why not?" she questions again trying to follow the train of thought of my random outburst.
I swallow the lump of emotions in my throat. "He's just different and kind of an ass," I tell her truthfully with a dry chuckle.
My mother casts me an inquisitive look. "Well then if he's not your type who is?" she asks genuinely wanting to know. My mother and I are close. Always have been. But the topic of boys and relationships has fallen to the wayside as I never had much of an interest in dating, especially with most boys in town overlooking me. And my mother's sole focus has been on me succeeding past our small beach town. Wanting the best for me always.
Without hesitation an image of brown eyes flash through my head and it surprises me so much a gasp lodges in my throat. "I don't know," I say, shaking off the image that came to me without warrant.
"Mae," my mother calls using my nickname to draw my attention back to her. "I don't get how you liking someone is bad," she says, still not completely following my half confession.
I let out a pent up sigh. "Because someone else likes him. Liked him first," I tell her truthfully.
My mother casts me a sharp glance as if she understands at least a part of what I'm saying. "Francesca?" she inquires though it comes out as if she already knows the answer.
I shrug pretending to be casual but feeling as if my heart is going to jump out of my chest at the same time.
"Just because she liked someone first doesn't mean they belong to her," my mother states. She has always liked Francesca, liked that she brought me around and expanded my horizons when I was more of a homebody. My mother wants me to experience high school and all that comes from it; she doesn't want me having any regrets in life. But she also thinks Francesca can be a touch selfish. "This boy has to want her also, and it seems like he might want you," my mother tells me with a pointed look.
My eyes fall to my lap not liking the way her words poke through my head and slide through my chest pumping my blood hot with ideas that aren't plausible. "No, he doesn't," I push tersely.
"Mae, you don't have to take second best because Francesca says so," my mother says as her hands slide against the steering wheel and slow us down to take an exit that leads to a small town outside of San Antonio.
I tongue the inside of my cheek keeping my eyes glued to the window and the darkening sky and bright glowing lights of the town. "She doesn't," I argue not liking what she's insinuating about my best friend. Not liking that some of her words are sticking with me and finding partial truths. But are they truths because I want them to be, or because they actually exist?
"Yeah," my mother mumbles in obvious disagreement.
I roll my eyes. "Mom, don't," I tell her with an edge to my words.
She lifts her hands in a show of innocence. "I didn't say anything," she says with raised eyebrows.
"Just never mind," I relent leaning my head against the cool glass of the window. I shouldn't have brought this up to my mother, to anyone. It has left me even more confused and my mind and heart even more at war with each other. Because doing what's right doesn't always equal what feels right.
Quietness expands between us as neither of us speaks. The sky around us finally dips into darkness and the moon shines brightly in the sky surrounded by a million stars. It's not that I wasn't aware of how beautiful everything is in Easton. My town is gorgeous in it's own right, but driving through these cities and small towns I've realized how much I've taken for granted in my almost eighteen years of life.
"Can I tell you something?" my mother's soft voice breaks the silence that has grown between us the last few minutes.
I nod once. "Sure," I almost whisper my eyes still fixated out the window.
"I've met someone," she tells me.
That catches my attention and my head snaps in her direction. "You have?" I question confused and maybe a bit hurt that she is only now just telling me. But I also can't blame her, as I know I just opened up about Asher, well somewhat opened up.
A smile lifts her lips. "Yeah, it's new but I like him," she confesses to me, not able to wipe the happiness from her face. Is he why she's been cheerier than usual? Is he why she's been in and out the house so much lately? So many questions wind through my head but the most present one is that I hope he treats her right, because she deserves it.
She has put her dating life on hold for the majority of my life. I was created from a one-night stand, and my father didn't want anything to do with me. In fact he wanted my mother to get an abortion, but she refused even if it meant her raising me alone. She has always put me first, and I hope she has finally met someone who will put her in that place.
"When do I get to meet him?" I ask eagerly wanting to meet the man who has obviously made a big enough impression on my mother for her to mention him to me.
A nervous laugh escapes her as she tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "Not sure. It's still new and I don't want to introduce you to anyone unless I know it's real," she tells me.
I nod understanding where she's coming from, as I was just as vague with her about Asher. "I'm happy for you," I tell her, being completely honest.
"But the reason I bring this up now is that he is someone I never would've gone for but I gave him a chance and I'm really happy I did," she says letting me know a touch more about her mystery man. "So maybe give him a chance even with Francesca," she adds but she doesn't push the subject anymore.
She drops the conversation and turns up the music a touch as we finish out our drive for the night.
Her words sit within me and grow and branch out begging more questions even as we change topics. Even as we eat dinner. Even as we fall asleep in a cheap hotel these questions tug at my head and pull at my heart in a constant war.
Should I pull away from the one thing that makes me feel alive?
Or should I give in to the boy and the feeling and fall without fear?