Page 7 of Journey to Love

"Mom, can we do this inside?" I suggest, motioning toward the door. But she remains unmoved, her glare unwavering.

"Okay, I guess we'll do this out here then," I sigh, dropping my bag and mirroring her crossed arms. "Don't you dare sass me, young lady," she scolds.

"Mom, what do you want me to say? I can't help it if my last table didn't leave until 10:30," I retort, feeling my frustration bubbling up.

"You should have told me that you were going to be late!" she insists.

"I did!" I feel my voice rising, and I quickly take a breath to calm myself. "I texted you, saying I still had a table and would call as soon as I left the restaurant."

"That's not good enough!"

My anger begins to simmer beneath the surface. Why is she blaming me for something I had zero control over? "Mom, this isn't anything new. It's not like this is the first time I've had to stay late because of a customer," I say, hoping she doesn't detect the annoyance in my tone.

"Don't talk back to me! I need to know where you are at all times!" my mom yells, her tone dripping with authority.

I can feel my frustration rising like a tide within me.Why does she always treat me like a child?I'm not a little girl anymore. I clench my jaw, trying to keep my temper in check.

"Yeah, because I'm not 21 or anything, right?" I mutter sarcastically under my breath as I grab my bag, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Before I can take another step, she grabs my ear and pulls me forcefully inside the house, her grip like a vice. "Excuse me! What was that?" she demands, her eyes flashing with anger.

"LET GO OF ME!" I shout, wrenching my ear from her grasp, my frustration boiling over.

"That’s it! Go to your room and don’t come out until you’ve learned how to show some respect!" she orders, her voice cold and stern.

I feel a surge of indignation and anger, but I swallow it down, knowing that arguing further will only make things worse. With a heavy heart and a deep sense of frustration, I trudge up the stairs to my room, feeling like a child once again, trapped in a world where I'm not allowed to be an adult.

Ugh, I am way too tired for this bullshit right now!I think to myself and head to my room. My dad walks in shortly after, “Hey kiddo, you wanna tell me what happened?” We sit on my bed and I explain everything that just occurred in the last 10 minutes.

My dad nods, “well, you know she’s just trying to look out for you?” he says.

“I know but does she have to berate me and treat me like a little kid in the process? I’m 21 years old and she treats me like I’m still 14!”.

My dad sighs, “I don’t think shes trying to treat you that way, I think its more she got worried and didn’t know how to handle it”.

I nod and let out a breath, “I understand she’s worried but I did tell her I was going to be late, and it's like she didn’t even listen. She never listens, if I’m being honest. Ever since Paul, it was like she stopped seeing me, and only saw a little girl. No matter what I do, or what I say, I will never be seen as an adult in her eyes”.

I get up and pace around my room trying to calm my nerves. “I want to go out with my friends after work, but anytime I mention it, she immediately turns it down! All of my friends are in their 20s and not one of them has to ask permission to go out to a bar or a club! Out of my whole friend group, I’m the only one who still needs to ask mommy and daddy! Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

My dad stands up and I can see frustration on his face, “Anya, we just want to keep you safe that’s it! Going to clubs and bars is overrated. You don’t know what it’s like out there in the real world and the dangers-

“That’s because you guys don’t let me! You can’t keep me cooped up in the house all bubble-wrapped, worrying about what may or may not happen. You guys have to allow me to live my life and make my own choices!”

My mom bursts open the door “WE LET YOU DO THAT ONCE AND LOOK WHERE THAT GOT YOU HUH!” she screams.

“Are you kidding me! That’s what this is all about?! PAUL?! You’re worried I’m gonna repeat what happened between me and Paul?! You don’t trust me to not make that mistake again?!” I am now shouting and pacing faster around my room.

“Its not that we don’t trust you, its just we are trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again” my dad says.

“You know what he did Anya, you know how many people he hurt in the process, and how it made us look at church” my mom blurts out.

Frustration and anger have now taken over, “OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT HE DID! I WAS THERE! I FELT IT FIRSTHAND!”Breathe Anya, just breathe, don’t cry, don’t cry.“What Paul did or didn’t do was NOT my fault! What happened between us, WAS NOT MY FAULT!” I feel the tears running down my face. “So..stop…bla..blaming me….for what HE did!” my voice cracks but I’m not gonna show weakness, I have to show them that I am strong. I have to prove to them that what despite what Paul did, he didn’t break me.I am not broken.

My parents leave my room and I collapse on my bed, I allow myself to cry, to let out all the anger and frustration. Then I get up, wipe my face and pull out my phone.

ANYA: “Hey what are you doing right now?”

JOE: “Not much why?”

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