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to talk about it. I pick up the phone and call my mom. She’s the one who encouraged me to give Trace a second chance. She should be the one to help me sort this mess out.
“Hey, Brittany,” Mom answers.
“Help me.”
“What’s wrong?” The sudden concern in her voice makes me wince and regret my opening line.
“Nothing bad. I just…need someone to talk to before I go crazy.”
I hear her release a breath. “I’m listening.”
“So, I told you that we were going to look at apartments today, right? They were all a bust for various reasons. Naturally, I started panicking because the month ends Thursday. That’s not a lot of time to find an apartment and move, and I really don’t want to pay higher rent. We get back to his house, I’m freaking out and wondering what I’m going to do, and Trace says, ‘You could move in with me. Until you find a new place, I mean.’
“That’s what I’m going to do. He made it clear that I’m coming in as a temporary roommate and I can stay in his guest bedroom. It’s screwed with my mind, though. He was trying to reassure me that it’d basically be different if I didn’t need somewhere to go. It just made him sound like he never wanted to live with me long-term and didn’t want it to be an option. We’re supposed to have this clean slate and I still don’t trust him. It scares the hell out of me. I’m going to be living with him. Even if it is short term and I have my own room. That’s going to have an effect. Right? I’m so stressed as it is and I don’t know if I can handle this, too.”
We’re both quiet for a beat and then Mom asks, “Are you done?”
I laugh. “Yes.”
“I think it’s normal for you to be concerned. It sounds like Trace wasn’t very good at wording things, but he means well. Don’t be upset, but it sounds like you’re still holding back. Now, no one expects you to overcome everything that happened so quickly, but from what you’ve told me, Trace has done well so far.”
“But things haven’t been bad,” I interrupt. “How do I know he won’t do like before when things are bad?”
“You’re not giving him enough credit,” she starts, but I cut in again.
“Well I’m sorry that I can’t seem to do that! It hurt when he broke up with me, Mom. It hurt for a long time. I don’t want to go through that again.”
Mom’s voice softens. “I was there, Brittany. I remember all of this, too.”
“Then why does everyone think it should be so easy to just jump in head first?” I blurt out.
“Who thinks that?”
“You. Mrs. Potter. Trace.”
“I don’t think that’s the issue here.” I open my mouth, but she keeps talking. “You’re too focused on the past, Brittany. Everyone understands how the breakup did a number on you, but we all also see how much he loves you. You need to look at that more than what he did. He’s trying. You need to be trying too.”
The tears come from nowhere and it isn’t until I speak and I hear my voice break that I even realize they’re there at all. “If he loves me so much, why’d he leave me in the first place? Why did he make it sound like he never wants to live with me? Why did he make me so insecure?”
Mom sighs, and I can’t tell if it’s an annoyed, frustrated sigh, or one of sadness. “Again, you aren’t going to get over it quickly or easily. Maybe you should talk to Trace.”
Tired of talking, I say, “Maybe. I should go. I have to pack.” Wonder how many times I can use that line as a lie before I actually have to do it. Mom and I hang up. Something that started out so small has gone and blown up on me. I guess it’s my fault, too. One misstep from Trace and I’m transported back to when he broke up with me and focusing on that more than anything else. Impulsively, I text Trace.
Me: I’m sorry.
Trace: For what?
What, exactly, am I sorry for? For panicking? For not trusting him and us enough? For not talking to him?
Me: A bunch of things, I guess.
Trace: Are you okay?
Me: Yeah. It’s just a struggling kind of day.
Trace: Struggling with…?
Me: Everything.
