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“Hey, Mom,” I whisper, thickly.
“How are you, baby?”
Her voice is soft, softer than usual. It gets that way when she’s tired or sad. Right now, it’s the latter. She’s sad because of me. Because of how fucked up I am.
“I’m okay. How are you?”
“I’m good, too.”
“Yeah? How’s work?”
“You know, busy. We have a huge wedding coming up so we’re all scrambling.”
If it were two weeks ago, I would’ve asked who’s getting married. Or maybe she would’ve volunteered that information herself. But it’s not two weeks ago. It’s now. And we don’t talk more than what’s necessary.
“Good. I’m glad,” I offer, lamely.
Awkwardly.
My mom and I, we hardly ever have awkward moments. In fact, she’s been my best friend – my only friend – ever since I was born. She tells me everything and so do I. Well, almost everything. There are certain things I can’t ask her or tell her because she’ll freak out.
But The Roof Incident has changed everything.
It came as a major shock to her. Even more than my diagnosis that I got at the age of fourteen.
My mom was so shaken up that day at the hospital. She looked at me like I’d vanish any second. Like, I was planning to vanish any second. She didn’t leave my side even once. Not until they took me away for a forty-eight hour mandatory admission to the psych ward.
I don’t know if she’ll ever trust me again. I don’t know if I’ll ever trust her again.
“How’re things for you? Are they… are they treating you well?”
I wanna say that they are evil, all of them. I wanna tell my mom that they keep me chained to my bed, give me electric shocks. They’re making me crazier. Day by day, I’m losing my leftover sanity.
But I won’t.
I won’t lie. Not about this. I can’t burden her any more than I already have. No matter how mad I am at her for sending me here.
“They’re treating me well,” I say, finally.
“Okay. Okay, that’s good.”
There’s silence and I’m dreading that this will be the end of our conversation.
God, how did this happen?
I hate this. I hate myself for being so fucked up.
I hate my mom for not believing me.
“So, I…” my mom begins and I sit up straight, eager to hear her talk. “I’m, uh, painting your room light yellow. I read it in this magazine that it’s supposed to bring calmness. It’s good for your… thoughts.”
I grit my teeth as tears spring in my eyes.
Thoughts.
Yeah, everything is happening because of my fucking thoughts, isn’t it?
“Mom, you don’t need to do that. I’m… Honestly, I’m fine. I don’t… I’m not…”
Crazy.
It hurts me so much that I’ve hurt her. That she doesn’t trust me when I say I don’t need to be here.
“I’m just trying to do everything I can, honey. Everything that I can possibly do to make it easier,” she whispers.
“Mom, everything is easier. It’s fine. I keep telling you. I don’t… I don’t need to be here.”
Her sigh is frustrated. “Lolo, not this again, please.”
“But it’s true, Mom. I don’t belong here. I don’t need to be here. I’m fine. It was a one-time thing and…” I look up at the ceiling. “Please, Mom. Let me come home.”
I haven’t been home in two weeks. Two fucking weeks.
It might not sound like much but I’ve never lived apart from my mother. In fact, I was going to stay home while attending college. We had it all worked out. I was going to spend my summer working at the bookstore like I always do. Then, Mom was going to take some time off from the store and we were going to do something fun together before my college started.
But now, I’m trapped here.
All because of one foolish mistake.
“I want you home too, but you need to be there. You need to fix it, Lolo. I can’t… I can’t go through that again. I can’t get that day out of my head. I can’t forget how you looked. So pale. So… lifeless. Lying in that bed. I just… It gives me nightmares. And all because of a boy? I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe that my daughter would lose her mind over a boy. In fact…” She takes a deep breath. “I drove by your school. I know I promised that I wouldn’t. But, God, I couldn’t stop myself. I want to track him down and –"
I sit up straight, clutching the phone to my ear, dread prickling the nape of my neck. “Mom, no. You promised.”
“I know. But it’s because of him you’re… Everything happened because of him. You lost your mind because of him, Lolo.”
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. I’m shaking. I’m cold and sweating. I don’t want to think about him.
