49. Different Goals
DIFFERENT GOALS
Machine [Imagine Dragons]
Mum is asleep on the couch when I leave my room early Monday morning. After I shower and dress, I sit on the armrest and take a deep, encouraging breath.
“Mum,” I whisper while touching her arm. She flinches, yet she doesn’t move or say anything further. “Mum, we need to talk about what I heard last night.”
“Noya. Leave me alone.” Mum’s muffled voice comes from underneath the blankets.
“Mum,” I hiss.
“Go away!” she cries.
“Mum, I… I can help you.”
She sits up, livid. Mum grits her teeth and spits, “What do you know about help, Noya? You’re stuck in the same place as I am. There’s no getting out. There’s no escaping him.” She tucks her legs up to her chest and glowers at the TV screen. “Accept that.”
“No.. When I have the chance, I’m fucking leaving here. And even after everything he and you put me through, I still want to help. But if you’re going to throw it in my face and not even try.” I shake my head. “Then you can wither in this darkness while watching me thrive in the light.”
She scoffs, “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Well… It’s better than sitting here and turning to dust without trying.” I grab my bag from my room and say, “I’m going to school. Think about what I said and give me an answer before my birthday.”
“Noya,” she calls when I open the front door. “There’s nothing else out there for me.”
I grit my teeth, whirl around and cry, “There’s me!” I touch my chest, feeling many emotions of anger, frustration, and hurt swirling around inside me. “Aren’t I not enough?”
She lowers her gaze and tugs the blanket over her head.
As I walk towards the bus stop, many emotions and thoughts collide. Some part of me wishes I had said nothing. I should have grabbed my bag and left for school, but… she’s my mum, and she’s in deep.
I had to say something—anything. At least now I know that I’ve done everything I could. I even extended my hand to her and offered her a solution. I will know her answer if I hear nothing by the time I leave.
Conner parks at the bus stop. Knowing how late I am, I quickly enter the car and close the door once I’m inside.
Conner leans in when I buckle my seatbelt.
His lips make me blush, reminding me of where he placed them the day before, and I shy away.
How do I kiss those lips without thinking about where they’ve been? Without feeling the heat and the lust.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he pulls away from the bus stop before the bus comes.
“Nothing,” I stammer.
Conner arches an eyebrow, not believing a word.
I sigh, slump my shoulders and answer, “Yesterday, um… I’m just a little… uh… embarrassed.”
“You weren’t yesterday when you were moaning my name. Loudly, I must add.” He chuckles when I grip his arm and hiss his name.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. What happened yesterday was normal.”
I sag my shoulders and lean more comfortably back in the chair. We sing to “Machine” by Imagine Dragons and talk about the talent show we’re attending this Friday.
I’ve never been to one of the school functions. My life comprised school, work, and hiding at home. These past few weeks have shown me how much I’ve missed because of my dad’s impending fear and lashing out.
When we get to school, Samantha is waiting by the gate. Before I can say hi to her, she links her arm with mine, yanks me away from Conner, and declares, “I’m stealing your girlfriend!”
I turn, waving goodbye. Conner smiles, waves back, and then heads to Aaron and Finch hovering around one of the cars in the parking lot.
“Tell me everything.” Samantha squeals with glee. “Did it hurt? You used protection, right… or are you on the pill?”
“W-what?” I blink a few times and suddenly understand what she’s talking about. “We didn’t have sex,” I whisper, hoping no one near us hears.
“Really?” she asks, surprised. “You did absolutely nothing?”
I look away and bite my lip.
When I look at Samantha again, her jaw drops, and her brown eyes widen to their full extent, reaching their limit. “What did you do? Did you…” She leaves it hanging and waddles her brows.
“No! I didn’t do anything.”
“He did!” She jumps up and down, and it frightens me how excited she is about my sexual encounter. “Noya, you’re growing up so fast!”
“Sammy,” I hiss, shaking her arm. “Stop. It’s embarrassing!”
She stops walking, and her long lashes flutter when she eyes me. “You just called me Sammy. You’ve never called me by my nickname before.”
“Oh…” Haven’t I?
I think back through the memories, but she’s right. I’ve always called her and known her as Samantha. I’ve never used her nickname, even though everyone who knows her knows to call her Sammy. My stomach churns as I wonder what she thought this whole time I’d been calling her by her actual name.
She grins when she says, “All right, I won’t persist anymore. Just make sure to use protection. You don’t want an unexpected pregnancy.”
“I will. I don’t want children,” I admit.
“Huh?” She blinks a few times. “You don’t want baby Conners when you’re older?”
I grimace.
“I play this game called ‘The Sims’, and I make Dylan and me, and I play house. It gets me so excited about our future!”
Sometimes… just sometimes, Samantha worries me.
“I’ve never thought about that kind of stuff. It’s too early,” I then rephrase.
I never thought about my future. I realised I have short-term goals in life.
Before meeting Conner, my goal was to fix the air-con and survive day by day.
After meeting Conner, it was the same until he wanted us to move into his apartment together.
My longest goal has been two weeks: two weeks until I move into an apartment with Conner and start my life.
I don’t think about marriage, buying a house, what I want to do after school, or heaven’s children.
Why would I bring a child into my horrid, screwed-up life? It’s one thing I wish my mum had never done to me. No one deserves to know a grandfather like that.
I mentally shudder at the thought before turning back to Sammy.
She’s talking about how she even thought of names for her children and how adorable they’ll look.
I join in her conversation because she needs me to pay attention to her.
Even knowing we have different views doesn’t mean I can’t support what she wants in her life and her goals.