After We Collided

I pull into our driveway and practically jump out of my car. But when I get to the door, I’m not sure if I should knock. It feels strange to do so, but I don’t feel comfortable just walking inside either. How can so much have changed since I left for college?

I decide to just walk inside, and I find my mother standing by the brown leather couch in full makeup, a dress, and heels. Everything looks the same: clean and perfectly organized. The only difference is that it seems smaller, maybe because of my time at Ken’s house. Well, my mother’s house is definitely small and unappealing from the outside, but the inside is decorated nicely, and my mother always did her best to mask the chaos of her marriage with attractive paint and flowers and attention to cleanliness. A decorating strategy she continued after my dad left, because I guess it had become habit by that point. The house is warm and the familiar smell of cinnamon fills my nostrils. My mother has always obsessed over wax burners and has one in every room. I take my shoes off at the door, knowing that she won’t want snow on her polished hardwood floors.

“Would you like some coffee, Theresa?” she asks before hugging me.

I get my coffee addiction from my mother, and this connection brings a small smile to my lips. “Yes, please.”

I follow her into the kitchen and sit at the small table, unsure how to begin the conversation.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” she asks bluntly.

I take a deep breath and a sip of my coffee before answering. “Hardin and I broke up.”

Her expression is neutral. “Why?”

“Well, he didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was,” I say. I wrap my hands around the scalding-hot cup of coffee in an attempt to distract myself from the pain and prepare myself for my mother’s response.

“And who did you think he was?”

“Someone who loved me.” I’m not sure who I thought Hardin was other than that, on his own, as a person.

“And now you don’t think he does?”

“No, I know he doesn’t.”

“What makes you so sure?” she asks coolly.

“Because I trusted him and he betrayed me, in a terrible way.” I know I’m leaving out the details, but I still feel the strange need to protect Hardin from my mother’s judgment. I scold myself for being so stupid, for even considering him, when he clearly wouldn’t do the same for me.

“Don’t you think you should have thought about this possibility before deciding to live with him?”

“Yes, I know. Go ahead and tell me how stupid I am, tell me that you told me so,” I say.

“I did tell you, I warned you about guys like him. Men like him and your father are best to stay away from. I’m just glad it’s over with before it really even began. People make mistakes, Tessa.” She takes a drink from her mug, leaving a pink lipstick ring. “I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”

“Who?”

“Noah, of course.”

How does she not get this? I just need to talk to her, to have her comfort me—not push me to be with Noah again. I stand up, looking at her, then around the room. Is she serious? She can’t be. “Just because things didn’t work out with Hardin doesn’t mean I’m going to date Noah again!” I snap.

“Why doesn’t it? Tessa, you should be grateful that he’s willing to give you another chance.”

“What? Why can’t you just stop? I don’t need to be with anyone right now, especially not Noah.” I want to rip my hair out. Or hers.

“What do you mean, especially not Noah? How can you say that about him? He’s been nothing but great to you since you were kids.”

I sigh and sit back down. “I know, Mother, I care about Noah so much. Just not in that way.”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about.” She stands up and pours her coffee down the drain. “It’s not always about love, Theresa; it’s about stability and security.”

“I’m only eighteen,” I tell her. I don’t want to think that I’d be with someone without loving them just for the stability. I want to be my own stability and security. I want someone to love, and someone to love me.

“Almost nineteen. And if you aren’t careful now, no one will want you. Now go fix your makeup, because Noah will be here any minute,” she announces and walks out of the kitchen.

I should have known better than to come here for comfort. I would have been better off sleeping in my car all day.

AS PROMISED, NOAH ARRIVES five minutes later, not that I’ve bothered to fix my appearance. Seeing him walk into the small kitchen makes me feel even lower than I have so far, which I didn’t think was possible.

He smiles his warm perfect smile. “Hey.”

“Hey, Noah,” I respond.

He walks closer and I stand up to hug him. He feels warm, and his sweatshirt smells so good, just like I remember. “Your mom called me,” he says.

“I know.” I try to smile. “I’m sorry that she keeps bringing you into this. I don’t know what her problem is.”

“I do. She wants you to be happy,” he says, defending her.

“Noah . . .” I warn.

“She just doesn’t know what really makes you happy. She wants it to be me, even though it’s not.” He gives a little shrug.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tess, stop apologizing. I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he assures me and hugs me again.

“I’m not,” I admit.