Bella:
My first memory of my mother's drinking dates back to an innocent age. I was eleven years old, sitting in her bedroom waiting for her to braid my hair.
It was a tradition on Sunday nights for school, our little bonding time to actually sit with each other and talk about vague memories. It was maybe the only time my mother and I got together without one of my siblings interrupting.
I brushed my damp hair and turned my head to look at her. Age had gotten the best of her these past few years, but I couldn't have been more blessed to have a mother like her. She was everything I wanted to be at the time.
My mother gently grasped the hairbrush from my fingers and began to take over the mindless job of brushing my hair. It was a comforting feeling, finally being tended to.
My mother brushed and brushed the long strands of my hair before resting the midsection of my hair. "You're so beautiful, I'll love you forever."
Indistinctly, it made me roll my eyes. I was at that age where any compliments or commentary from my mother had me nearly gagging. "Mom, can you just braid my hair? I have to review my math study guide before my quiz tomorrow."
My mother began to brush through my hair once more, finally sectioning my hair into parts and began the process of braiding. I couldn't help but notice how agonizingly slow she was going, always pausing to take a sip of water. Her shaky hands became a plausible way to stop her from continuing more.
I held onto the section that my mother was working on while she got up once more to reach for her water.
"Are you okay, mom?" I glanced over to her face and I saw her squint an eye shut. It appeared as though she was trying to catch her eyesight from doubling over.
She gasped in a breath of air, overly dramatic, and swayed a bit. "Yeah, I just need a minute."
I held on to my hair and examined her carefully. It was like the woman I knew was disappearing. She was riddling away into a different, distant version of herself and I couldn't stop it. It was the first time I saw her crack like the light was seeping out from her eyes. She was losing the aspect of her that made her my mother. It was an agonizing pain in my side I chose to ignore. She was everything I looked up to and more, and at the time I thought she was going to be around forever. It was an easier thought that way.
The ice cubes in her water clinked to her glass as she twirled the clear liquid. She stared at it for a bit, wondering if the next sip was worth it or not. "Don't you ever fall in love, you hear me? It'll fucking ruin your life."
I was too stunned to respond so I dropped my hands to my lap, letting go of my half-braided hair. I felt the tight pattern unwrap against my hair, and I just stared at my mother. "We can just braid it tomorrow, mom. I'm really tired anyways." I rushed to stand on my feet, forgetting about my silly damp hair.
She slammed the drink down once more, and with a shaky breath, she began to cry. "I love him, you know? And he won't even look at me!" She cried out, her raspy voice breaking free.
And like any normal eleven-year-old, I left. It is maybe one of the hardest things in my past to come to terms with. It haunts me in my sleep, keeps me up at night knowing that if maybe I said something that early on maybe she wouldn't have drunk so much. Maybe she'd still be here and my family would still have a mother, but selfishly I fled the scene. I didn't know how to react to my mother confiding in me, as I was usually the one confiding in her.
Her words that night crept up on me in ways I can't imagine.
Love.
It only causes pain and hurt. Sorrow and regret.
I would know, I saw it through my mother. It was drilled into me for five years until the day she was kicked out of the house.
It was maybe the only memory I could remember from my mother, don't fall in love.
Don't have a relationship.
If a man promises something, anything, he's lying.
It was easier for me to believe, and want to follow through with them.
Before Logan.
The thought caught my breath in my throat, constricting my lungs from budging.
I was getting increasingly close to him, and I knew there was no way of avoiding me falling for him the more he came around.
There was no way it was mutual either. I was a merely fallen leaf in a meadow of wildflowers, I did not compare to his lifestyle.
I glanced down at my phone, like an alarm of shivers going off in me every time I heard that notification sound.
Logan: When can I see you again?
My breathing became rigged as I thought of his deep eyes. He invaded every aspect of my life now. I chewed on the inside of my cheeks as I thought back to my mother.
Bella: I'm not sure :P
A pit in my stomach was forming, feeling worse as I knew I needed to grow distant from him. It was too dangerous to get this close, what was I thinking?
Logan: I'll come to pick you up from work today and we can get dinner.
I bit my tongue at the thought of seeing him within the next two hours. He could snap his fingers and I'd listen like a small puppy.
Bella: Okay.
The hours dragged on and on ticking by ever so slowly. I was determined to make an arrangement for the both of us once and for all. I'd set Logan on his way and I'd be the lonely cat girl who stayed in my routines.
It would be easier, pulling off the bandaid than getting scorched by fire. I anxiously played with my thumbs as I thought harshly about the next few hours of my life.
I quickly locked up the building as Logan texted me a "five minutes away" text. My heart seemed to slump heavier in my chest, feeling caged in.
I examined the street carefully as I watched Logan's sleek black car trail down Weeden Street. It was like someone poured a bucket of ice on me.
Logan easily climbed out of his car with a big grin on his face. "Hey, beautiful."
"Hey."
Logan rushed over to me and slipped his warm hand in mine and gave me a squeeze. "Are you ready to go?"
I couldn't help but nod my head quickly. Logan's long legs took the necessary strides to make it back to his glossy BMW. Logan reached over to the handle of the car and held the door open for me. I was blessed with the heat enclosed in the car.
Logan made his way back into the driver's side and ignited the engine. "How has your day been?"
I shrugged my shoulders a bit and twirled my thumbs. "It was good. Yours?"
"Mine was good too." His cologne had me nearly melting into my seat. It was woodsy and clean. Intoxicating and indulging.
We sat in comfortable silence for a bit as Logan started driving. I held my breath as I thought more about my daydreaming from earlier.
"What are you thinking about up there?"
I chewed my lip carefully as I thought out my next words. "Do you believe in love?" I rushed out like I was spilling a secret.
The question had Logan paused for a minute, thinking of ways someone would even respond to that. "I think that's a pretty broad question." He paused before carrying on, "I don't believe we can love inanimate things like cars or money. Sure I can like pizza, and I can like fresh air. Yet none of these items will ever compare to a person or a pet. It's just not practical. Love is tricky and ruthless, but it exists whether we want to believe it or not."
My eyebrows felt heavy as I tied them together. "Have you been in love?" The question I spoke came out in a hushed whisper.
"No, not yet." Logan glanced over at me, "have you." I watched his eyebrow tweak up in question.
I hesitantly shook my head no, "I can't." I whispered.
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