Page 51 of Bad for Me

I guess you could say I was immune to being uncomfortable. My mother depended on me—stability and comfort were not things my parents blessed me with. Not even close. Those things were scarce around here.

Mom limped over to me, waiting next to the car, hands full of bags—hers and mine—with all the thingssheneeded to feel comfortable. All I needed was my discman and headphones, and maybe a coffee to take the edge off.

“All ready, Mare? This drive will probably kill me, but we both need this, don’t you think? I’m so glad you picked Middlebury, it’s closer to family.”

It was my mother’s idea for us to take a trip to the college and check it out. A fresh start. A chance for me to excel in graphic design. What she didn’t realize was that I cared little for a degree. I didn’t want to be locked into a career for the rest of my life. Instead, I wanted to explore. I humored her anyhow. The day we visited, I’d glimpsed the cheer coach with the squad as they took photos outside of the athletic building.

I knew she was the coach from the photo in the auditorium; she was much younger in the photo, but I knew it was her.

She had shouted at the girls to smile, and every single girl did everything she asked. It was easy to tell they wanted to make her proud. My belly had tightened, and each word she yelled dripped with power. I’d clenched my thighs so hard I nearly pulled a muscle.

I had decided right then that this would be our new home.

Adjusting the bags, I freed my left hand so I could unlock the new SUV we bought after her Cabriolet finally shit the bed. “I’m the one driving, Ma, you can sleep if you want to.”

Mom chuckled a little, but opened the car door and slipped inside with a groan.

When I was ten or eleven, mom had busted her ass as a housekeeper at a local hotel and fell down a flight of stairs trying to carry a vacuum up. The fall nearly killed her, a sizeable head wound keeping her in the hospital for a week. Everyone, including the few friends she had, told her to take it easy. She never listened, her philosophy for life was hard work and family values. Both closely held morals had hurt her beyond physical pain.

“Did you take your meds today, ma? I know you’re excited to visit Vermont and see your cousin, but your health is more important.” I slid into the driver’s seat beside her, smiling.

Patting my hand, she looked deeply into my eyes with tears. I knew today would be emotional for her, on multiple levels, but I couldn’t let that distract me. I needed to get us there first.

I started the vehicle, breaking our eye contact, the excitement of the trip and possibility of new adventures ahead churning in my belly.

“Thank you for driving, pumpkin. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I cringed a little at the nickname she had for me, my love of Halloween since toddlerhood the reason. “I know, Mom.”

I switched on the engine and pulled out of our driveway, leaving painful memories in the past.

* * *

It wasearly September when we decided we needed a change. Mom’s job was too taxing on her body, but she refused to allow me to work until I completed my degree. Sure, I liked history, but my focus was on occult things like the Anunnaki, the Sumerian tablets, and the Salem witch trials. I doubted I could find a teaching job that allowed those topics to be the main ideas. At least in graphic arts, I could put some of my favorite things into my art.

If I was honest with her, I’d tell her I wanted to travel the country and maybe the world in a house on wheels, but whenever I mentioned it to her, a heated argument would ensue because she didn’t want me to leave.

As we crossed state lines, she marveled out the window. “Wow look at those beautiful colors. I don’t think seeing the leaves change into bright colors of red and orange will ever get old…boy do I love it.”

I looked over at my graying mom, all small and hunched over, wondering how much more her liver and kidneys could take of the constant pain meds she took. She used to be beautiful, youthful, and full of energy. Her accident had taken those things from her, but it didn’t make me love her any less. She was my mother, and I was her only living child; I had no choice but to stay by her side.

She needed me.

I gripped the wheel tightly as the curving roads of Vermont beckoned the vehicle, the trees and mountains swallowing us as we went.

It was usually me that wanted to move, because of mean kids or because I didn’t like the area. Sometimes I thought she wanted me to take control, but other times she voiced her needs. This time, she wanted to be closer to family.

I rolled the window down a crack, letting the cool breeze blow my unruly black hair away from my face like a caress. I closed my eyes briefly, imagining free-falling from a cliff. I loved that feeling. Maybe too much.

“Careful!”

Mom’s worried voice broke my risky daydream, and I snapped my eyes open, steering back into our lane. “Sorry…I was just?—”

“Fantasizing, yeah, I know. Your head has always been in the clouds. Even when you were a baby.”

A small pang of sadness slapped my chest, but I shoved it down. Misery loves company, and one thing I never wanted was to be miserable. I was determined to have a happier life than my mother did.

As we pulled up to the first stoplight in the town, my eyebrows raised, nostalgia washing over me. The town looked like it was straight out of a postcard, nothing like the small city I’d lived in upstate for the past few years.

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