But my mom thought it was a darling decoration piece, so I didn’t have the heart to voice my anxieties.
I passed the small family car in the driveway, noting my mom was home from work. Walking through the front door, I took in a deep breath of the sweetest aromas. Citrus, vanilla, and maybe a hint of cinnamon.
Stephanie Mason, my mom, loved having a scented candle lit in each room of our home. Most people would probably get a migraine living in this wonderland of fragrances, but not Mom. She was proud of her home, smelling so vibrant.
I entered, peering into the compact, front living space to find my mom in her favorite blue armchair. She was next to the window reading a self-help book, diligently annotating the page.
I had a lot in common with my mom. We looked alike, shared a lot of the same interests, but we were especially similar in our undying love for books. Exceptwhile my genius, therapist mother, read books on mental health and the meaning of life, I would forever be drawn to my books of romance and other worlds.
“Hey Lovebug, how was the rally this morning?” Mom asked, shutting the book and leaving her highlighter in between the pages.
“It was alright. Lots of screaming. Liam did great with his whole student-body-prez thing. Speaking of which, he wanted me to let you know that he and Trey went off to surf. I’m guessing he will be back later tonight.” I dropped my bag on the floor and flopped onto the couch in front of my mom. I sprawled across the decorative pillows and cushions.
“Good to know. Wish my sweet boy had the forethought to come in and tell me so himself. But who am I but his dutiful mother, who awaits on his every whim,” Mom said, punctuating the sarcasm of her statement with a wink. “Guess that just gives me more alone time with my favorite girl. So, what arewegonna do in the meantime?” she asked, her countenance always, ever so bright. “We could go get a treat, go for a beach walk, or—spice things up and go for a bike ride.”
Smirking, I rolled from the couch to my feet. “I would love to walk the beach with you.”
***
“How was work today?”
Mom and I strolled arm in arm in the glow of the afternoon sun, near the beach walk. There were hordes of people laying out, playing volleyball, biking, and running.
“It was amazing. We did an activity with the women called ice bathing today. It taught them how to breathe, overcome their fight, flight, or freeze responses, and they all did so well. I was so proud.”
My mom was a very skilled and well-known licensedMarriage and Family Therapist in the area. She specialized in Betrayal Trauma Healing for women. She held groups where women came together to learn how to live with their trauma and heal with a gained support system.
After everything she’d been through, my mom was a resilient powerhouse of a human being.
“Sounds cool. You’ll have to teach me a bit about that,” I said. Unbidden, my thoughts slithered back to my personal dilemma with freezing and the disgusting touch of Clayton’s hand. A slight shiver ran down my whole body with the reminder.
Smiling, Mom pulled me closer as we continued our walk down the beach. “And how are you feeling about high school ending? It’s insane that you’re already here.”
Nodding my head, I willed my train of thought not to be distracted by the incredible smell of churros being sold by a vendor we passed. “Yeah, crazy. I’m fine. I don’t really know what I’m going to do with myself once I graduate, but I’ll figure it out.”
I sent out a few college applications because—well, everyone else was. A few colleges, including Southern Desert University, accepted me and Liam. SDU was my first choice in schools, but I didn’t see a reason to rush into college if I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Seemed like a waste of time and money not to have a plan or goal in mind.
A sharp tug on one of my stray curls had me whirling to find my mom trying and failing to be discreet as she pointed to a street corner. “Your team,” she snickered.
This was one of our games, a favorite, especially in a crowded scene such as this. The game was only playable in a setting where we could easily watch copious amounts of people. As we studied our surroundings, we would point out only the most obscenely odd people, forcing our opponent to accept the individual as “their team”. No one really ever won or lost the game. Well—whoeverfound the most absurd person usually got bragging rights, I guess.
Once, I pointed out a man making out with his chihuahua. That find had earned me a whole week of gloating, reminding my mom of the horrid scene.
I followed her pointed finger to a woman who stood waiting at an intersection. The woman was nearly two knuckles deep, digging up her nostril.
I grimaced and slanted my mother a look. “Your sixth sense for finding strange people is impressive.”
She snorted, her gaze still eating up the sight. “Takes a weirdo to know a weirdo.”
Mom tugged me along our path, picking up the conversation where we had left off. “I was going to say there’s no rush. If you’re not sure what you want to do yet, that’s okay. You’ll figure it out. I’m just so proud of you; I hope you know that. You amaze me.”
My mother only stood about an inch shorter than me. Short enough to rest her head of blonde wavy hair onto my shoulder as we continued arm in arm.
“I know, Mom. I’m proud of you, too.”
She kept her head on my shoulder as we approached a vacant bench just off the beach. Guiding me to the bench, she sat first, patting the spot for me to join. I did.
“You know,” she started, her eyes looking out on the burning horizon. “Your dad would be proud of you too if he were here.”
