Clay came toward me again, looking broken. “Maggie, I was wrong! Please, don't leave me!” He cried, reaching for my hand again. I moved away from his grasp. “I have to go.” I said and turned around to leave.
I started to run through the trees. I didn't get far before Clay's hands grabbed me from behind. I tripped as he pulled me to a stop. He crushed his chest against my back and pressed his face to my neck. “I can't lose you again! I'll do anything! Just don't walk away from me!” He pleaded. I could feel his body shaking as he gripped me. His hot tears burned my flesh as they slid down my neck. I reached down and tried to unwrap his arms from around my middle. “Then let me leave. Just give me time to think. I can't do that when we're together.” I urged, not turning around to look at him. I knew that if I saw his grief stricken face I would be a goner. And I needed to decide whether a life with him was what I wanted. If a life without him was something I could stand.
Clay was quiet for a few minutes. I could feel the ragged draw of his breaths against my back, the warmth of his tears on my shoulder as he pressed against me like his life depended on it. Then without another word, he moved his arms and I felt the cold air of our separation as he moved away from me. Letting me go.
I was shaken from my time with Clay. I went home practically in tears and more confused than ever. My mind was churning and I struggled against the need to run straight back to him. I hadn't been lying when I said I needed time. But something told me that time wasn't going to solve anything.
How did I reconcile myself with the fact that I had just walked away from the love of my life? Particularly when he needed me most. What kind of person did that make me? I had acted on a desperate sort of self-preservation when I had left him standing alone in the woods. I was scared and mixed up. But I couldn't think past the fact that he loved me and wanted us to be together.
Why couldn't that be enough?
I was a complicated mixture of scared and angry. I felt like punching the wall or pulling my hair out. It was unfortunate for my mother that she happened to walk into my room in the midst of my very real freak out.
I sat at my desk, twirling my chair in circles, wishing I could grow a pair of wings and leap out of my second story window. I had chewed my nails to the quick and was currently gnawing on the skin of my fingers.
I heard a light knock on my door and without waiting for permission, my mom pushed my door open with an arm load of laundry. She wore an annoyingly perky smile and was still dressed in her office clothes. She must have just gotten home from work.
She dropped the pile of clean clothes on my bed. “How was school?” She asked me. I shrugged, not looking at her. I just wanted her to leave. I still blamed she and dad for a lot of my current situation. Maybe if they had been more accepting of Clay, things would have been different. Or maybe it would snow in July. Well, whatever, I needed to blame someone and they fit the bill.
“Is that a good shrug or a bad shrug?” She asked lightly. I shrugged again. My mom was quiet and then I heard the squeak of my bed springs and suppressed a sigh. Great, she wanted to talk. I swung my desk chair back around and gave her my best stink eye. “Yes?” I asked in irritation.
My mom frowned at me. “What's with the attitude? I just wanted to know how my only child is doing. Is it wrong for a mother to care about her daughter's well-being?” Okay, that was it. I was sick of their concern. Sick to death of their overprotective mama and papa bear bullshit.
I glared at my mother, the woman who had been my best friend and biggest support for most of my life. But in that moment I forgot all about that. Instead, all I saw when I looked at her, was my enemy.
“You know what mom? If you cared about my well-being you'd back off and let me live my life with whomever I choose to live it with.” I spat at her. My mother's eyes widened in shock at my outburst.
Yes, this was not the little girl she knew. This was some crazy woman who was wearing Maggie Young's skin. My mom drew herself upright and a stern look took over her face. “Don't you dare speak to me that way. Your father and I have always done what was best for you.” I cut her off with a maniacal laugh. “What's best for me? Are you kidding? You have pretty much forbidden me from seeing the only guy I'll ever love! How is that good for me?” I shrieked at her.
My mom sighed and looked at me with a less than patient look on her face. “Stop being so dramatic. I tried to like Clayton, if you'll remember. It doesn't change the fact that while you were with him you made terrible decisions and behaved reprehensibly. You started lying, sneaking around, shutting out your friends. Love doesn't make you act like that, Maggie. No matter what you choose to believe.” She said with irritation.
“You don't know the first thing about Clay and me. You never will!” I yelled, grinding the heels of my hands into my eyes. I felt like I was about to bust out of my skin. I was so wound up about Clay and everything else, I just couldn't deal with my parents right now.
My mom took on a concerned expression. “What's going on, Maggie? You've always been able to tell me things. You know I'd listen.” For a moment, I softened. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to go back to the time when I felt like my mother would listen to me without condemnation and judgment.
Maybe, just maybe, I could share with her everything that was going on with Clay and she'd have some advice, a suggestion or two. And I wouldn't feel so freaking alone in all this mess.
But her next statement blew my little fantasy out of the water.