After Midnight (a.i.)

14

Calling home was never this exhausting. It used to be exciting to hear my mom's voice with my sister desperately shrieking for attention in the background, and random but rare appearances from my father, but I began to dread it over time.

I love my family, they're my best friends and hold a special place in my heart, but every phone call just reminds me of the past. Visiting them is even worse. It's hard to make up an excuse when San Francisco is a short trip from here, so the distance never makes for a good lie. They know I'm busy though, with work and classes, and they've never been the type to hassle me and guilt trip about not visiting.

It's just difficult to visit your hometown when it holds so many skeletons.

"How's school going, dear?" My mother's voice rings from the speaker. I have to remember that I'm actively having a conversation.

"It's going good, same as usual." Lie. How can you admit to your main supporter that you're completely lost and have not a clue what you're doing with your life? Let alone being almost four years into a degree you don't even want?

"That's good to hear, dear. And work?"

"I got promoted to bar manager, Ari really vouched for me." I tell her, a bit more excited.

"That's great! I'm so proud of you, Car!" I half listen to her praise while I pick at the chipped black polish on my nails. I really need to fix that.

"Thanks, Mom. How's Mar?" I ask her, listening to the usual noise from my sister in the back.

"Amara's doing good. She just got second place in the science fair." She says with glee, and I assume she's grinning with my sister. I give her some praise from my end of the phone.

My sister always had a creative imagination. She'd pretend to be an astronaut or explorer in her free time, and as she grew, so did her love for the science of life. She was very smart for seven, brilliant actually. She was stellar in all of her classes and then some, always going the extra mile out of pure fascination. I used to be like her when I was young, the wonder in her eyes and endless possibilities for what the future has to offer. As I got older, that light began to dim and the wonder was replaced with dismal logic. I can only hope that never happens to her.

"Oh, I almost forgot." My mother reminds me I'm still on the phone, and I try to brace myself. It's never good news when she says that.

"The Thompson's wanted me to tell you they say hi and would love to see you." Her words send a chill down my back and I feel my stomach drop.

Why did she have to bring them up?

"That's weird, considering I broke up with their son years ago." I play it cool with an annoyed sigh, but she'll never get it. She doesn't know half the shit he did to me. I don't have the heart to tell her.

She only thinks that Matt and I broke up because of our differing schools. She doesn't know the years of torment and mental games I've had to deal with from him. It would probably kill her if she knew, but she is aware of my awful hatred toward him.

It was a long time ago, and I'm mostly over it. I've dealt with the trust issues and paranoia on my own and I've been able to move past it, taking one day at a time and eventually, once I came to Berkeley, I was able to fully let myself free and find serenity.

Being home in San Francisco was way different. I wasn't able to heal peacefully there, with all the constant reminders and feeling like I had to look over my shoulder every second of my life. It was exhausting being home, knowing that there's a small chance he was there. An even higher chance considering my mother is very close with Mrs. Thompson. His mother.