Room to Fall

I opened the scrapbook my mother had made for me when I was three years old and had given it to me as a birthday present when I was fourteen.

When I was three years old, she began putting pictures in the scrapbook. It was packed with family photos, which made me miss my father even more just looking at it.

My father died when I was thirteen, and I struggled for four years without him. I recall the last time I saw him when he took me to a location somewhere in southern California over the summer, and I had no idea it would be our last road trip together.

As I flipped through the scrapbook's pages, I grinned to myself as I recalled. My father's memories were as new as yesterday, making it difficult for me to let go of him every day.

I collected all of my strength and stood up from my bunk, putting on some slippers as I stepped out of my room, taking the scrapbook that had been sitting on my lap, and placing it on the bed beside me. As I made my way down the stairs, I was greeted by the scent of marinara sauce. I started walking towards the kitchen, but I came to a halt when I saw my mother applying makeup to her face in the hallway mirror.

"What are you doing?" I wondered, cocking my head to the side and studying her reflection in the mirror. As I continue to look at her, I wondered. When she turns her head in my direction, she removes the foundation she was carrying and places it on the table in front of her.

She sent me a perplexed glance, and I returned the stare. "The usual," she says. She returns her attention to the mirror and starts applying makeup to her eyes, gently dabbing the powder onto her face with a beauty blender.

My mother goes on dates with many dudes she met online every two weeks, both inside and outside her office. I've met several men that my mother has taken into our home, and the mere idea of her marrying another man makes me sick to my stomach.

My mother has been struggling to move on from my father's death. I tried to stop her initially, but I gave up when she started to ignore everything I said, notably when I voiced my displeasure with what she was doing. She claims she needs to forget about dad and get on with her life, and her response is to date random men.

But it wasn't an honest answer for me. "By the way, I bought pizza," she says as soon as she's finished adding red lipstick to her lips. I leaned on the wall, my eyes fixed on the time, which reads 7:15. "Please do the laundry and wash the dishes in the sink."

I rolled my eyes as I scoffed at her comment. I say whiningly, "I'm about to go outside to see Ethan."

Ethan is my childhood best friend.

I first met him in school, back when we were still living in Pennsylvania. Jen, his mother, was a friend of my mother's. My mother and Jen wanted to introduce us because they figured we'd be good friends, and we all ended up enjoying each other's company.

I moved out of Pennsylvania when I was seven years old, and we've been traveling to new towns and cities every year since then, leaving Ethan and our relationship behind. But then, just three years ago, my mother and I returned to Pennsylvania and agreed to stay for another three or four years, figuring that it was actually safer to stay this time than to leave. Ethan and I rekindled our relationship, and I vowed never to abandon him.

Perhaps it was too soon to make a commitment that I'll have to break shortly.

I've had a thing for Ethan for almost eight years, and I can't stop thinking about him after we moved out of this house. I never had the opportunity to tell him how I really felt about him until he announced that he has a girlfriend with whom he has been dating for four years.

I've been hanging out with Ethan again after an eight-year absence, and ever since I moved out of town and out of his reach, he's been a different person. He wasn't the same guy with whom I had made friends in kindergarten.

I suppose it's understandable that everybody evolves—but do we grow for the better? Or are we just seeking to become a better version of ourselves without any positive intentions?

We've been friends for three years, and he hasn't adequately introduced me to his mother. Any time I want to bring her up, he says his girlfriend is out of town or isn't getting along right now. I didn't want to fight with Ethan anymore because he wouldn't tell me her name or show me a snapshot of her.

The more I hide my thoughts, the more it pains me that I want to observe him from afar, believing that he is in love with someone else. That someone else isn't me, by the way.

"How about I pay you for doing the chores?" Mom says, catching my attention. My eyes widened as a smile forms its way to my face.

I've been trying to save money for college, but I end up saving nothing every time I try. Whenever I head out to go shopping because of a discount or treat Ethan to something to eat, I typically end up snatching money from my bank account.

Furthermore, since I have not yet begun school, getting a career at this time would confuse my schedule.

"That is actually a great deal, but I would still be going out today," I say, "But... you can count on me," I added cheekily as my mom breaks into chuckles.