Charlotte's Perspective
Kimi surprised me with tickets to a gorgeous resort, a trip we'd been dreaming about for ages. Spring break couldn't come soon enough; we were both desperate for a break from school and some sunshine. But there's a huge complication: I had to lie to my mom. She doesn't even suspect I have a girlfriend, let alone that I'm falling hard for Kimi. The thought of her finding out makes my stomach churn with anxiety. I know how upset she'd be.
I wrestled with how to break the news without actually breaking the truth. Taking a deep breath, I went downstairs, trying to seem casual even as my heart hammered. Finding her in the kitchen, surrounded by the familiar, comforting smells of dinner, felt like walking into a battlefield. The warmth of home usually soothed me, but tonight, the air thrummed with my secret. I braced myself, rehearsing what I would say. Would she see through my forced nonchalance? I felt like a tightrope walker, balancing precariously between truth and deceit.
"Mom," I said softly, my voice barely audible above the sizzle of cooking.
"What do you want, Charlotte?" she answered, her tone sharp, like a reprimand. I'd clearly interrupted something – a fleeting moment of peace, maybe.
I forced myself to sound a little more confident, frustration bubbling up, "I just wanted to let you know I'll be gone for three days." The words rushed out, a desperate attempt to get it over with.
"Whatever," was all she said, her voice flat, devoid of any interest. Her usual dismissal stung. It was like my life, my plans, were utterly insignificant.
I retreated to my room, my urgency propelling me. I threw clothes into my duffel bag, the sounds of my hurried movements echoing the turmoil in my heart. Finally collapsing on my bed, the weight of her indifference crushed me. It was more than neglect; it felt like a deliberate rejection. If she truly had motherly instincts, she'd see the pain etched on my face, the fear in my eyes. They say mothers just know, but she was utterly blind.
Desperate for any connection, I grabbed my phone, my fingers shaky as I dialed Kimi. She answered almost instantly, her voice a warm haven in the storm.
"Hi babe," I managed, my heart aching for her, trying to project a calm I didn't feel.
"Hey Char, how are you?" Kimi's voice radiated concern, a stark contrast to the coldness I'd just endured.
How are you? The question hung in the air, almost foreign. No one really asked me that. I hesitated, the truth heavy on my tongue, but refused to burden her with my mother's coldness.
"Good," I replied, the word feeling hollow.
"You sure?" she probed gently, and I could hear the worry in her tone.
"Yeah, and by the way, when are we leaving? I really can't wait to have you all to myself," I said, desperate to change the subject, to focus on our escape.
"Tomorrow. Let me go pack. Bye babe," she said, her voice full of promise and anticipation.
"Bye. Love you," I blurted, my heart soaring just hearing her voice.
"Love you too," she echoed as she hung up.
I stared at the ceiling, caught in a swirl of excitement and sadness. Just a few more suffocating hours in this house that had stopped feeling like home since Dad died. Now, it was a hollow shell. Mom's grief seemed to have hardened into resentment, a resentment directed at me, a constant reminder of him. How could she feel so much bitterness towards someone who simply looked like the man she loved?
A part of me felt guilty for wanting to leave, but another part was desperate for escape, for the solace I found only with Kimi. I couldn't wait to be with her, to feel the warmth of her embrace and the promise of our shared adventures ahead. It was the only hope I had.