Her mind drifted to her high school hookup, her first heartbreak. She’d dated lots of guys since then, dumped some and been dumped by some, but that had been her first and only taste of love in high school. She still remembered one thing he’d said, among many—that she had daddy issues. Like most true accusations, that one had hurt worse than all the other excuses he’d made for not wanting to be her boyfriend. She remembered crying to a pregnant cousin, who had said, “Of course you have daddy issues. Look at your dad. At least you get to finish high school. Look what my daddy issues did to me.”
That had made her feel bad enough to suck it up and go back to school after a week of wallowing in humiliation. Her cousin was right. She had a lot of makeup work to do.
Thinking back on it now, she’d buckled down after her freshman year. She’d always attributed that determination to the loneliness of her first year of high school. But maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that she’d also decided to cut her father out of her life at that point.
Maybe instead of using college prep and constant cramming to distract herself from her lack of social life, she’d been using it to bury her own guilt. After all, her dad was an addict. If he was a crappy father, it wasn’t intentional. She’d cut him out of her life for three years, and she had no excuses. Instead of thinking about it, she’d thrown herself full-tilt at a career path, planned a future she knew would irk her father. And while she didn’t regret going to college for a second, she had to admit her father’s disapproval had definitely influenced her decision.
In a way, he’d pushed her to succeed more than her mother had. Defying him, going against everything he’d ever advised, had motivated her more than she’d ever admitted. Maybe, if he’d lived longer, she would have been able to tell him that one day, to laugh about it with him. But now, it was too late. She’d never have that chance, or all the other chances for reconciliation and honesty she’d dreamed about. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d fantasized about telling him off, about confronting him and demanding explanations and apologies. Those fantasies would always stay just that, though—fantasies.
Her friends, however, were here now. If she had regrets about her dad, it was too late to make amends. But she could change the way her trip went, the way her friendships continued or ended. She didn’t want to lose them, too, to look back after college and have the same regrets about them that she had about her father. She’d been too proud to apologize to her dad, to admit that she’d made as many mistakes as he had. Her unwillingness to forgive had hurt her more than him in the end. After all, she was the one left with the regrets, the things left unsaid.
If she was honest with herself, maybe her high school crush and cousin had been right. She probably did have daddy issues, and maybe that’s why she’d chosen a guy for a best friend. And Nick wasn’t just any guy—he was a caring, nurturing guy. A guy all her friends at home loved, because he was always there to pretend to be someone’s boyfriend when some jerk at a bar wouldn’t take no for an answer, step in for a date when they needed him, or provide a sober ride home. Of course a girl with daddy issues would choose him for a friend. But that wasn’t why she stayed friends with him. She stayed friends with him because she loved him.
But how could she tell him that now, after he’d told her he liked her? He’d take it the wrong way. Maybe she’d take it the wrong way, too. Maybe she already had. Listening to his low voice murmuring a few rows back, and Kristina’s bubbling laughter, drove her a little too crazy with jealousy. She had to admit that maybe Kristina was a little bit right. If she didn’t like him, she was definitely being selfish to keep him on the back burner, warding off other girls, flirting just enough to give him hope, confident that he’d still be there when she decided she was ready. And scared that he’d find someone else, that he wouldn’t be there when she needed him. If she didn’t keep him close, he might abandon her the way her father had.
That was unfair to him, though. So unfair. She’d been unforgiving to her dad while he was alive, and now she was doing the same thing she’d done at fifteen—throwing herself into something so completely she had no room to dwell on regrets. This time, she no longer had the luxury of second guessing herself and going back to apologize. Her father was gone. And all she’d done to honor his memory was get drunk.
Which, when she thought about it, was probably a little too fitting.
But all this partying wasn’t the same as burying her nose in books and forgetting the world. It wasn’t just affecting her. This selfishness involved other people, had hurt her best friend. She couldn’t let her father’s bad parenting scare her into acting like a crazy, control-freak. If Nick didn’t want to see her with other guys, she couldn’t really blame him. Seeing him with other girls wasn’t exactly turning out to be the most pleasant experience she’d had on her trip. And that’s what she was supposed to be doing—seeing the world, having a grand adventure, having a good time.
She hated that she had to do it right after her father died, but she didn’t want to spend her entire trip dealing with the grief she knew would hit eventually. Maybe she could hold it off until she got home, until she saw his grave. The thought made her shiver in the warm afternoon as she exited the bus and started off towards her flat. She kept waiting for Nick or one of her friends to call after her, but no one did.
If she had to spend the rest of her trip alone, with not even her mother to talk to, she didn’t know how she’d stave off the grief and regret that threatened whenever she thought of her dad. Maybe it was okay to have a little fun, to go out and party, but not at the expense of her friends. She couldn’t do that to Nick, or Maggie, or even Kristina. These people had been good to her, had emailed to make sure she was okay when she needed them. In return, she’d acted like a complete psycho.
She turned into her driveway, sparing one last glance behind her to see if Nick was walking home. A figure was walking towards her, but even from far off, she could tell by his gait that it wasn’t Nick. With a sigh, she headed inside the empty flat. It always felt strangely abandoned, as if no one at all lived there, but today, it bothered her more than usual. Today, she didn’t have anyone to email or video chat with. She didn’t have anyone to make plans with. All she had was a plain, ordinary apartment that didn’t feel like home.
With a sudden pang, she missed her mother to a painful degree. Even if none of her friends forgave her, if they never spoke to her again, she would live. But she couldn’t live without her mother. Her mother had always been there—through her dad’s repeated abandonment, through her relentless pursuit of a scholarship, her high school heartbreak, her move to college. She had always known she could go back home. That’s what home was—a place she was always welcome, with a mom who always loved her.
Her dad’s death was the first crisis she’d ever dealt with on her own, and she had to admit, she wasn’t doing such a good job of it. Without further hesitation, she ran to her computer, her heart pounding. What this trip had taught her more than anything was that having fun and being independent and having adventures was great, but it didn’t mean anything if she didn’t have anyone to share it with.
And of course the one person she wanted to share it with was her mother, the person who had been there all along, the person who would never dream of abandoning her. Maybe her dad had given her issues, but her mom had always been there to support her, cheer her on, and love her unconditionally. She didn’t want any regrets to come between them, and she certainly didn’t want to take time for granted again. She’d learned the hard way not to let her resentments fester indefinitely. One day, it would be too late to say sorry.
She called her mom first thing the next morning, before going to class. At first, she didn’t think her mom would accept the call. Her screen stared back at her, silent and waiting. Cynthia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn’t know what she’d do if her mom refused to speak to her. She had to make it right. And she had to do it now.
Finally, her m
other connected, but she could see only darkness. “Mom?” she said, her voice cracked and desperate.
“Cynthia?” A light was switched on and her mother’s face appeared, shadowy and orange in the lamp light. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“No, nothing,” Cynthia said quickly, already feeling guilty that she’d woken her mom. She hadn’t even thought about the time difference. “I mean, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Her mom’s face went blurry as she pushed herself upright and settled back on her pillows. “What’s going on?”
“I—I lost your necklace,” Cynthia said, her throat squeezing shut as she uttered the last word. She didn’t know where else to start. Confession seemed like the first step.
“Oh, sweetheart,” her mother said. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Cynthia said, swiping away a tear. “Everything is so messed up, Mom. I lost your necklace, and my friends are mad at me, and Nick is mad at me, and you’re mad at me…”
“I’m not mad,” Mom said. “I might be hard on you, but it’s because I love you. You know that.”
“I know,” Cynthia said. “But I just thought…you were mad at me when we talked. And you should be. I’m such a mess. I’m sorry.”
“You may be a mess, but I’m not going to start going easy on you now. But go ahead and tell me why you’re calling in the middle of the night. It better be good.”
“Okay,” Cynthia said in a small voice. “I just wanted to apologize. What if something happened to you, like it did to dad, and I hadn’t apologized? I feel like I’m losing everything. Dad, and you, and Nick, and all my friends…”
While she broke off to cry, her mother clicked her tongue. “You’re not losing me. You can’t lose your mother. I’m here for you always.”
“Why didn’t you let me come home?” Cynthia cried, sweeping tears off her face.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you should have let me come home for Dad’s funeral,” she burst out. “I wouldn’t be here in this mess. I’d be there with you.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” her mother said, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Don’t say that. You have chances you might never have again. I couldn’t tell you to give that up.”
“Yes, you could,” Cynthia said through her tears. “I couldn’t make up my mind, and you told me to stay. You could have told me to come home, and I would have.”
“And then what?” her mother asked through a yawn. “You go to the funeral, then sit around here moping all summer, wishing you hadn’t missed your trip? Then you’d blame me for telling you to come home.”
“At least I’d still have my friends.”
“That’s not my fault,” her mother said. “I didn’t lose your friends, Cynthia. You did that.”
“Yeah, because I’ve been upset about Dad. I was trying to forget it, to have so much fun I wouldn’t think about him the whole time. And now everyone hates me, and I’m not having any fun.”
Her mother snorted. “This is ridiculous. You didn’t wake me up for this nonsense, did you?”
“I’m sorry,” Cynthia said. “I didn’t know what to do. I can deal with not having any friends, but I can’t deal with not having you. I just wish I was home. I don’t care about them.”
“Well, you’re not home,” Mom said. “I’m sorry I discouraged you from coming home, if you think that’s a mistake. If you want to have fun, go and have it. But you can’t forget your dad. He’s part of who you are.”
“I know that.”
“And if you messed up with your friends, tell them that, not me. That’s what apologies are for.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she said. “I screwed up really bad, Mom.”
“Well, you’ll never know until you try it. You can’t make someone forgive you. All you can do is ask forgiveness, and if they’re willing to forgive, you can move on. If you don’t give them a chance to forgive you, they won’t.”
“I gave them a chance,” Cynthia said. “I sit by myself in class, and no one comes over to talk to me at all. They act like we were never friends.”
“And what did you act like?” her mother asked. “No one can read your mind, Cynthia. Not even your wise old mom. And you can’t read theirs, so you don’t know what they’re thinking, either.”
“Why do you always have to be right?” Cynthia asked. “It’s so annoying.”
Her mom smiled. “Because I’m your wise old mom. And now I need some sleep. I have to work in the morning.”
“I’m sorry,” Cynthia said. “I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry about the necklace. I feel so bad.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Mom said. “It was just a trinket. You know I’m not spending hundreds of dollars on jewelry.”
“Yeah, but it was from you,” Cynthia said. “I was supposed to remember you by it, and now I lost it.”
“Well, if that’s all it takes for you to forget your own mother, I don’t think a necklace is going to help.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” her mother said with a smile. “But having my necklace hasn’t made you behave yourself any better than if you were on your own, so I know you’re not thinking of me too much.”
“Mom, stop. You’re making me feel bad.”
“So go and make me proud,” her mom said. “Think of me like the little angel on your shoulder telling you to do the right thing. Then you’ll really be thinking of me, not just wearing a silly necklace.”
“Okay. I will. But I’m still sorry about the necklace.”
“Don’t be. And don’t spend your trip fighting. You and Nick have been friends for years. I’m sure he will come around if you apologize.”
“What if he doesn’t, though?”
“You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”
Cynthia sighed. “No, I guess I get to eat humble pie.”
“Maybe, but then you get your friends back. Have some fun and don’t worry about the necklace.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“If you call me in the middle of the night again, you better have at least one missing limb.”
“Rude.”
When she got off the phone, she felt better about her mom, but nothing else. She didn’t know how she could possibly apologize, or even begin to make things right.
She got to class a few minutes late and slipped down the side aisle to sit in the same spot as the day before. A plastic bag was sitting in her spot with a sticky note on top that said her name. Confused, she picked it up and set it in her lap. At first, she thought it was from Professor McClain, but when she opened it, she saw the heels she’d left at Nick’s. Cradled inside one of them was her necklace. She sighed in relief, her hands shaking as she lifted it out. She set the bag under her chair and fastened her necklace with trembling fingers.
Wanting to thank Nick somehow, she smiled over at him, but he was goofing around with Rory. She had his black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, peering over them at Nick, which made her look like a hipster librarian. Nick was wearing her Coke bottle glasses and making a funny face at her. Cynthia turned away and yanked her notebook out of her bag. They had all forgotten about her like she wasn’t even there.
Really, she didn’t blame them. Her mom was right. She’d been horrible to both him and Kristina. But it was hard to apologize when he wouldn’t even look at her. After class, she lingered in her seat, waiting for them to leave in their happy little group. But when they’d gone, and she’d had a moment to breathe, she realized with horror that she’d have to walk past them as they congregated in their usual spot outside. Instead of enduring that torture, she stayed to talk to Professor McClain for a few minutes, until she was sure they would be gone.
To her relief, they were. Still, as she walked back to her flat, a little part of her kept hoping she’d see Nick’s familiar figure ahead each time she turned a corner. But all she saw was the usual as
sortment of cats sunning themselves on ledges.
Chapter Fifteen
By Friday, she didn’t think she could make it to class even one more day, let alone the rest of her trip. Instead of getting ready for class, she decided to stay home and do laundry. Maybe after the weekend, everyone’s anger would have faded enough to forgive her. While her laundry was going, she went back to her room and started lining up her shoes. Remembering the bag with her heels, she crawled over to her backpack and pulled the bag out of the bottom, where she’d crammed it after class the day Nick brought it to her. She dumped her shoes out, and they tumbled to the floor, along with a sheet of paper, folded in half. She picked it up and opened it.
Written on the paper, in large, childlike printing, it said, “Still friends?” Under the words, there were two boxes, one that said “Yes” above it, and the other that said “No.”
Cynthia jumped up off the floor, where she’d been kneeling, and grabbed her phone to check the time. She shoved her feet into her tennis shoes, not bothering with socks, grabbed her backpack, and ran all the way to class. By the time she got to the university building, her shirt was stuck to her back with sweat and she could hardly breathe. She stopped to take a few deep breaths before pulling open the door. Again, she was late for class. Worse, she didn’t know if she should go and sit with her friends or sit by herself again, so she stood frozen in the doorway, clutching the straps of her backpack.
“Cynthia?” Professor McClain said. “Will you be joining us today?”
“Yes, sorry,” Cynthia said, hurrying to her new seat, her head down and her face burning. She dropped her backpack and sat perfectly still, hoping no one noticed the sweat staining her t-shirt. She’d left in such a hurry she hadn’t even bothered to comb her hair or put on makeup…or deodorant. Still, that note had been in her backpack all week. Nick had been ready to forgive her all week. If only she’d seen it the day he gave it to her. If only she’d talked to him.
When In Rome...Lose Control: Cynthia's Story Page 12