Rules of a Rebel and a Shy Girl - Jessica Sorensen Page 0,90
my shoulders, giving me that comforting feeling I like so much. “Go ahead, then.”
I summon a deep breath, and then I write.
Mom,
I’m not sure how long it’ll take you to realize I no longer live here, and I’m really sorry about that. I’m really sorry that you got to such an awful point that you don’t really care if you see me anymore or not. While it really hurts that you don’t care, I can no longer let that hurt control me. I’ve spent so many nights worrying about you, wondering where you are, if you’ll come back, if you love me, and fearing all the answers. But I’m tired of wondering and waiting and hoping and fearing.
I’ve spent so much of my life afraid of this house, your boyfriends, you, becoming like you, which I know sounds harsh and maybe it is, but I’m telling you this with the hope that maybe you’ll change. Maybe you’ll get the help you should’ve gotten a long time ago since I’m no longer going to be around to do that for you. I’m no longer going to be an enabler.
I’m going to be who I should’ve been all along: a teenage girl going to college who is happy sometimes, sad sometimes, lost sometimes, scared sometimes, but only because of her own life choices.
And while I’m scared to walk away, I know it’s for the best. I just want you to know that, if you decide to get some help and heal yourself, you can always call me. I’ll leave my phone number at the bottom. Only call me if you’re my mom again and not the woman I’ve been living with for almost the last thirteen years. I really do miss her.
Love,
Willow
When I’m done, I set the pen down and leave the note on the kitchen table. Beck stays at my side the entire time, holding my hand, assuring me that I’m not in this alone.
It’s a very new feeling for me, one I’ll take.
As we’re walking out of the house, I realize I have one final problem to take care of.
“And the Mercedes returns,” I mutter with a frown as the door opens and my dad climbs out.
Beck tracks my gaze, and then his hand tightens on mine. “Let’s just get in the car. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”
I really don’t. At the same time, I know the lack of closure will eat me up.
“I’m just going to tell him that I want him to leave me alone.”
I start toward my dad, pulling Beck along with me, and he follows effortlessly.
“Hey,” he says when I reach him. “I’m really glad I caught you. I know you want me to leave you alone, but I’d really like to talk to you.”
He’s wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, slacks, and shiny as hell shoes. I wonder if he just got off work. I wonder where he works. I wonder a lot of things, not knowing anything about him other than he walked out on his family without looking back.
“I just want to tell you that I don’t ever want to talk to you,” I tell him, relaxing a smidgen as Beck smooths his finger along the inside of my wrist.
“Deep breaths,” Beck whispers, making me aware of my panicked breathing.
I do what he says. Air in. Air out.
“Willow, please just give me a few minutes,” my dad begs, stepping toward me.
I step back, bumping into Beck. “You don’t deserve a few minutes,” I tell him. “And if you wanted those few minutes, you should’ve gotten them thirteen years ago.”
“I know that,” he says, fidgeting nervously with his sleeves. “I know I messed up. I really do. But the guy I was back then … I’m not him anymore.”
“Then who are you? Because all I know is the man who left me with a horrible mother.”
He rubs his hand across his forehead, seeming at a loss for words. “Up until a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t realize how bad your mother has been. And up until a couple of years ago, I never thought about you or your mom, too drunk to care. Then something happened to me that was a real eye opener, so I got sober and realized …” He blows out a shaky breath. “I realized how much I fucked up my life over the last two decades. And not just my life, but my daughter’s.”