I can’t help but wonder,Who’s going to move in there? Will they be nice? Do they have children my age who would look at me like I’m a freak?
Probably.
Our small town is an hour away from the lively city of Toronto. Our main street is lined with self-owned businesses, coffee shops, and bakeries. Basically, it’s like every town you see in a Hallmark movie.
Luckily, the last day of school was two days ago. I hated driving to school for more than an hour in the morning. My tired eyes couldn’t handle the bright sun and the long, winding road ahead. As you can tell, I’m not a morning person.
Yet a positive is that I graduated high school. I’m now free of the hell people call school. Knowing I don’t have to walk through those miserable halls, sit in the tight desks, and eat terrible cafeteria food that more resembled shit than food is a relief.
The only negative is not seeing my dad in the crowds at my graduation, in the seat beside my mom, where he is supposed to be.
This entire town is a reminder of him.
The one thing that I adore here is the silence. It’s peaceful. The forest around my house looks like the forest Bella, the main character inTwilight, lives next to. I’ve always referred to that as a flex in my life. Hardly any cars drive by. And if they do, I always go to the window and look. Curiosity gets the best of me.
I’m not crazy, just lonely.
“You should go out more, sweetie. Have some fun,” Mom says from behind me. Her fingers brush through my long, straight brown hair.
I smile at the feeling. I love when people play with my hair.
“I’m perfectly happy here, Mom.” I look over my shoulder and smile up at her. “I’m happy here with you.”
She nods her head and gives my forehead a kiss. “I’m glad you want to hang out with your old mom,” she jokes and chuckles slowly, making me smile. “But don’t you want to have fun with your friends … maybe live a little?”
Shaking my head, I glance away from her hopeful eyes. Staring straight ahead, I pick up my spoon and scoop a spoonful of yogurt into my mouth.
“You can’t keep avoiding people, Trinity. Your father—”
“Don’t use that card on me, Mom. I’m trying every day to be better—you know this. It’s just hard,” I mumble, interrupting her.
She looks disappointed and shocked at my outburst. See, this is what I meant about the anger. I don’t mean to raise my voice; it just happens.
“As your mother, I want what’s best for you,” she explains.
“I love you, Mom, but please let me deal with my own social life.”
I know she wants to argue further, but she keeps her mouth shut and nods.
“I just love you,” she whispers after a few minutes.
Turning in her direction, I face her. “I love you too, Mom. I know you want what’s best for me, but I don’t like when you pry like that.”
Her hand cups my cheek. “I’ll try to do better, honey.”
I nod. “I’ll try too.”
Sitting in the chair ahead of me, she types on her phone for a few minutes before speaking into the silence. “Have you chosen which college you want to go to?”
God, I hate college talk.
Just thinking about how taking majors will define how my future goes makes chills travel up my spine.
“I’m deciding between two majors,” I say simply, not wanting to get into the stressful topic.
“Which ones?”
Ugh. “Journalism and psychology.”
