Our Broken Pieces - M.E. Clayton Page 0,5

wanted to be a scientist.”

Mom turned around and I waited patiently as she washed her hands, grab the hand towel to dry them, and turn back around to face me. “Mystic, you don’t have to decide the rest of your life right now,” she started. “If you don’t want to go to college, we are fine with that. But only if it’s because you really don’t want to go to college and not because you were just procrastinating.”

Another reason why my parents were great? They weren’t bullies. They weren’t smothering and they’ve always respected the fact that, while we were young, we still had our own minds and it was ultimately our lives that we’d be leading. She really meant what she was saying. My parents didn’t care if I lived my life washing dishes as a busboy at a local restaurant as long as I was happy. Gene and Layla Anderson were awesome like that.

“How do I know which school will be best for me if I have no idea what I want to do with my life, Mom?” I asked honestly. I felt like I was on...pause. Most everyone at school had at least a vague idea of what they’d like to do in life, but I had nothing. I had no serious passion for anything that I’d want to see or do for the rest of my life. I enjoyed music and l liked art, but not enough to make a living out of either. I was good with numbers, but I didn’t have a passion for them. I had a solitary personality and that narrowed down my choices quite a bit.

My mother walked around the island and sat down next to me. “Honey, the only professions that need that kind of consideration are the ones where you’ll need to go to medical school or law school afterwards, or something like that,” she said, trying to explain real life to me. “College is still just another level in life where you try to find out who you are.”

I thought about her words, but they still didn’t make me feel better. “But what a waste of money if I can’t figure it out, or worse, drop out after only a year or two,” I replied. I looked at my mom’s concerned face. “Maybe I could take a year off, or something?”

She gave me a tight nod and I could see her considering the idea. “Maybe,” she agreed. “But sooner or later you’re going to have to make a decision about your life, Mystic. You can’t live here forever, hiding out from the world.”

My back straightened. “I don’t spend my life hiding from the world,” I automatically denied.

Mom raised a brow and looked at me like she does when she knows we’re full of shit. “Mystic, even though your father and I give you kids the freedoms we feel you deserve, that does not mean we don’t pay attention or know what’s going on in your lives.”

My heart dropped and I wondered if this was what it felt like to have an honest-to-goodness heart attack. There’s no way she could know what I was up to. There’s no way she could know what I was about. If she did, there’s no way she’d let it continue. There’s no way she and my father would not have shipped me off to Berlin or somewhere by now if they knew.

“Wh...what do you mean?”

She let out a soft sigh. “I’m talking about how Margot is your only friend and, if you’re not with her, you’re studying at the library, or holding yourself up in your room,” she replied. “You never go to parties or any sports games or...anything, Mystic.”

“That’s not true,” I denied. “I’m going to Margot’s party this weekend.”

Mom rolled her eyes and I found it odd whenever an adult did that. It was such a teenage thing to do. “The only reason you’re going to her party is because it’s her eighteenth birthday party and you’re her best friend, Mystic,” she retorted. “If it wasn’t for that, we both know you wouldn’t be going.”

I deflated because she was right. I did hide from the world, but not for the reasons she thinks. I’m not shy. I’m not timid. I’m not anti-social.

I’m...broken.

I was broken and I didn’t know how to interact with people who weren’t. Margot and I became friends when I was too young to know that I was broken, and that was the only reason we were best friends.

Well,