6. Then
Then: October 10th
P hoenix, you’re needed in the front office. Your mom is here to pick you up,” says Mrs. Goode from the front of the classroom.
My cheeks burn when she calls me out in front of everyone. I quickly gather up my things and head to my locker.
My mom is here. Why would she be here? I always take the bus. It’s only one-thirty, and school doesn’t get out for another hour and a half. Is she ok? Did something happen to Dad? Are we moving and she’s picking me up early to go home and pack?
So many questions are running through my mind right now, and I do my best to shove them away as I make my way as quickly as I can to the parking lot. I’d stopped by the front office first, but apparently, Mom had already signed me out and was waiting for me outside.
As soon as I climb into her cute little red Coupe, I turn to face my mother.
“Mom, why are we leaving? Did something happen with Dad? Are you okay?” I ask, full of concern.
Music comes pouring out of the speakers the moment she turns on the car, and it's so loud I immediately cover my ears with my hands. Her lips are moving as though she doesn’t even notice the noise and is trying to speak to me through the music.
I reach over and turn the volume dial to mute. I repeat my question. Her eyes don’t seem to be filled with worry though, they flash with something else. Excitement. Exhilaration. And something unknown. They are always mixed with something I can never quite name.
She apologizes and gently squeezes my shoulder. “Nothing is wrong, P! I thought it might be fun to have a girls' day! We never get to have a day just for us anymore.”
I’m not sure what she’s talking about. We spend way more time together than I do with Dad, but I don’t feel like now is the time to correct her.
“But I wasn’t out of school yet. I still have a few classes left, and then we can have a girls' day,” I try, but she lets go of my hand and waves her own in the air like she’s waving my concerns away. After all, she gets to make the rules. I’m supposed to follow them.
“Oh, stop it, you’re ruining the fun! Come on. We never get to do this. You and me, just us girls. Please,” she begs.
I’ve never heard her beg me for anything. I should say yes, at least this once. What harm could it do?
I shrug my shoulders and fasten my seatbelt. She slaps the steering wheel and lets out a loud whoop, zipping out of the school parking lot.
We spend the rest of the day playing hooky. First, we stop at one of our favorite, local ice cream shops, Dreams of Ice. We talk the entire time. She’s always been a great listener. Between bites, we discuss the most random things. She tells me about the different kinds of places she’d like to visit someday and how she’d want some kind of souvenir from each. I tell her about these stories I get in my head sometimes, but how I’ve always been too afraid to write any of them down.
At this, she leaps out of her seat. Thankfully, no chairs crash to the ground this time, and she rushes me out the doors and back to the car. She doesn’t tell me where we are going, but stops when we pull up to the nearest gas station, which happens to be Love’s.
She hands me a crumpled twenty-dollar bill and tells me to run inside and pick up a set of pens and the prettiest journal I can find. I browse around the convenience store while she fills her car up with gas. She’s already waiting for me when I walk back to the car holding a bright pink and purple tie-dyed journal and a set of fine-point pens.
It’s a proud moment for her, because when she sees me, she has tears in her eyes as she rushes over and embraces me in a big hug. I don’t understand how buying a journal has made her this happy, but I’m grateful for the simple gesture. If something so small and simple can bring her joy, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“I’m so proud of you, Spider-Girl. You’ve got a head full of stories that deserve to be heard. Write your heart out, and let your stories shine. We were meant to create. Don’t hide your words away. Write them down, give them a purpose, and then share them. I don’t care how you choose to do it, but when you’re ready you’ll know what to do,” she says, her smile wide and her eyes bright.
I don’t know exactly what she means by that, but I tuck it away close to my heart. A place I won’t soon forget.
After that, we find ourselves hungry again and hit the mall. It’s on the outskirts of town and isn’t much of anything anymore. Most of the stores have closed over the recent years, leaving only a few still open. Our town simply isn’t big enough to support large chain franchises, other than McDonalds.
The food court has three options: Chinese, McDonalds, or a smoothie place. We end up picking Chinese. After we’re done eating, we walk around window shopping until our feet are sore. I have no idea what time it is, but I have a feeling Dad will be getting off work soon and we should be heading back.
I nudge her. “Mom, this has been a lot of fun, but shouldn’t we start heading back soon? Does Dad know that we did all of this?”
She’s looking at pretty dresses on display and turns to look at me. She scowls and folds her arms.
“This was supposed to be our day, P. Why are we talking about Dad?” She frowns.
I’m a little dumbfounded at this. Is she being serious or is she joking? Sometimes it's hard to tell.
“I know, and it was. I’ve had the best time with you. I just think we should be getting back home. I have homework,” I say.
She turns her attention back to the window.
“I was hoping we could go see a movie, but I guess we’ll just go home instead. If that’s what you want,” she retorts in a tone that sounds similar to a toddler not getting their way.
I don’t think she’s joking, but she’s impossible to read right now. It has been a great afternoon. We’ve shared a lot of laughs and talked about things we’ve never mentioned before. But she’s not acting like my mom right now, and I need my mom. I want to go home. I don’t want to be here anymore.
I tread gently because I don’t want to upset her more. “Maybe we can some other time. Just us, or Dad can come too if you want. But I would like to go home now, Mom.”
Then, she does something surprising. She’s often full of surprises, but this is something she’s never done before. She reaches into her purse and tries to hand me her car keys. I’m sixteen but don’t have my license yet. I’ve practiced driving some, but never this far. We are thirty minutes from home.
“If you want to go home so badly, you can drive yourself. You know how to get home, right?” She doesn’t face me, her eyes still glued to the dress. The keys jingle in her hand as she holds them out to me. I don’t take them from her.
I’m not sure I understand. “Yes, but Mom…” I start. She doesn’t let me finish.
“You can drive home since that’s where you want to go,” she says flatly.
“But what about you? How will you get home?”
She shrugs, as though it’s not really a big deal to her. And maybe it isn’t. But how could it not be?
“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to watch a movie and then I’ll come home.”
I’ve seen my Mom in many moods, but never like this. I don’t want to leave without her. Should I call Dad? I don’t know what to do. I’m hoping to get my license in a few months, but I’m not ready yet. If I get caught…
“Mom… Please. Don’t do this.”
She turns to face me once more. “Go, P. I’ll come in and kiss you goodnight when I get home, okay? I need some time alone.”
I don’t understand any of this, but I don’t argue. I silently say a prayer that she’ll change her mind as I’m walking away and come running after me and drive us home.
But she doesn’t. Instead, I drive home scared and alone. Dad isn’t home yet when I arrive. I attempt to distract myself by preparing dinner. Maybe somehow it’ll lure both of my parents back into this tainted space. Music turned up, apron on, I do my best to drown out any hint of loneliness and worry. It’s all I can do, and for now, it’ll have to be enough.