saw her on holidays and we weren’t that close with each other.” I paused, clearing my throat. “I wanted a mom every day. I’d wish for a mom at every birthday and every time the clock struck 11:11. But it never came true. All of my friends would tell me that my dad would probably marry again, but that didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be my mom; she’d be his wife. My mom was dead. My dad is an RN, and even though he was a single parent, I didn’t see him very much when I was younger because he was always working. Later on, he’d take the weekends off so we could spend time together. He helped me with my homework and took me shopping, even though I hated it. He even picked out outfits for me that he thought were pretty for school picture days. On the weekends, we did everything together. He’d take me bowling and to go pick apples and he taught me how to cook. I know he did everything he could, but it wasn’t the same. I still really missed my mom, even though I didn’t really know who my mom was. And that’s the thing, Dad didn’t like to talk about her. I’d ask him questions, but I could always tell that it hurt him, so after a while, I just stopped. And then, when I got into high school, my dad started working weekends again because the pay was better. He still made time for me when I asked—and even when I didn’t, but I always felt sorry for myself. When I went to college, my roommate and all of the other girls I befriended hated their moms. I didn’t get it; what I saw as being looked after made them feel like they were micromanaged. And they all fought with their parents, all the time. I couldn’t imagine doing that. I didn’t realize for years and years that even though my dad had been a single parent, he’d really also been a mother to me as well. He raised me, he always made sure I was safe,” I paused, choking up. Dom stared at me and I blinked, shaking my head. “Sorry,” I said quietly. “This is just kind of hard to read.”
“I get that,” Dom said softly, gazing up at me. “You don’t have to finish if you don’t want to.”
“Thanks,” I sniffled, wiping my nose. “I’m going to go lay down. I’ll be down later.”
Quickly, I walked out of the room and up the stairs. Dom didn’t make an attempt to follow me, and I leaped up the stairs so he wouldn’t hear me start to cry. In my room, I flopped down on the bed and crumpled the essay into my fists, tossing it across the room. I hadn’t felt tired, but my bed felt so good and I realized that I actually was pretty tired. Rolling over, I wrapped myself under the blanket and buried my head in the pillows, trying to hide from the world. Thoughts of Dom kept swirling around in my head; it was uncomfortably reminiscent of the time I’d run home crying after I’d woken up on that afternoon in Dom’s living room. Trying to brush that thought aside, I tried to concentrate on my essay, and whether or not I could actually submit it. Writing it hadn’t been difficult, but reading it to Dom had been incredibly emotional, and I was embarrassed that I’d started crying like that. Dom probably thought I was still really immature.
Even though my mind was racing, lying in bed eventually did the trick and I felt my eyelids begin to get heavy. Maybe I should set an alarm , I remember thinking right before I fell asleep.
When I woke up, the whole house felt quiet. Even though I didn’t have to check, I instinctively knew that Dom had gone out. Lying there in the darkness, my forehead wrinkled. I wondered which bar he’d gone to, and what kind of girl he was going to bring home with him. With a sigh, I rolled over. My mind was now wide awake, and a quick glance at the clock told me that it was a little after 11pm. I knew that I wasn’t going to be getting any sleep later, so I decided to get up and work for a little while. After reading that essay to Dom, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to submit it. It did really
“I get that,” Dom said softly, gazing up at me. “You don’t have to finish if you don’t want to.”
“Thanks,” I sniffled, wiping my nose. “I’m going to go lay down. I’ll be down later.”
Quickly, I walked out of the room and up the stairs. Dom didn’t make an attempt to follow me, and I leaped up the stairs so he wouldn’t hear me start to cry. In my room, I flopped down on the bed and crumpled the essay into my fists, tossing it across the room. I hadn’t felt tired, but my bed felt so good and I realized that I actually was pretty tired. Rolling over, I wrapped myself under the blanket and buried my head in the pillows, trying to hide from the world. Thoughts of Dom kept swirling around in my head; it was uncomfortably reminiscent of the time I’d run home crying after I’d woken up on that afternoon in Dom’s living room. Trying to brush that thought aside, I tried to concentrate on my essay, and whether or not I could actually submit it. Writing it hadn’t been difficult, but reading it to Dom had been incredibly emotional, and I was embarrassed that I’d started crying like that. Dom probably thought I was still really immature.
Even though my mind was racing, lying in bed eventually did the trick and I felt my eyelids begin to get heavy. Maybe I should set an alarm , I remember thinking right before I fell asleep.
When I woke up, the whole house felt quiet. Even though I didn’t have to check, I instinctively knew that Dom had gone out. Lying there in the darkness, my forehead wrinkled. I wondered which bar he’d gone to, and what kind of girl he was going to bring home with him. With a sigh, I rolled over. My mind was now wide awake, and a quick glance at the clock told me that it was a little after 11pm. I knew that I wasn’t going to be getting any sleep later, so I decided to get up and work for a little while. After reading that essay to Dom, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to submit it. It did really
Similar Books
