I snuck out to see him that night, even though my Mom had told me not to. At 17, I was juvenile and rebellious. I loved him, or, at least I thought I did. And I was convinced he loved me too. My mom just didn’t understand. She never understood. Now that I look back at that night, she’s probably the only reason I was ever with Adam. She was always so harsh, so reserved. I’d do anything to irritate her.
But I can’t blame her for everything. I was a difficult child, arguing whenever I could and blaming everything on my mom. Especially my dad leaving, that was one of my favorites. That was the only one that ever got a reaction out of her.
We weren't always like that. We used to be like best friends, going out to lunch on the weekends, going shopping, we even had inside jokes. But when my dad left, everything changed. She became distant and worked a lot, and I started acting out, practically begging for her attention.
I wish I’d been nicer to her. I wish I hadn’t gone out of my way to hurt her. Most of all, I wish I hadn’t snuck out to see Adam that night.
I remember coming home that night, police cars in the driveway. At first I was angry, infuriated even, thinking that my mother had called the police when she’d noticed my absence. As I got closer and closer though, I realized my mother’s car wasn’t even there.
I approached one of the officers slowly, sucking on a mint to hide the alcohol on my breath.
“Why are you guys at my house?” I remember asking him. He must have been new or something, because he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Don’t sneak up on people! You’ll scare them to death,” the police man said, and then went bright red. Now that I could see him fully, I realized how truly young he was; probably just graduated from the academy. Why he was so embarrassed though, I couldn’t fathom.
“Why are you at my house?” I repeated my question. His face was returning to its normal color now and he straightened, trying to look official.
“Are you Jamie Stevens?” I nodded and his expression became one of sorrow and pity, and he put a hand on my shoulder, “Your mother has been in a car accident,” and suddenly my whole world was spinning.
“What do you mean? Is she okay? Where is she?” My breathing quickened and I felt lightheaded. I looked at the police officer and started shaking. I didn’t need him to answer, it was written all over his face. Now it all made sense; my mom’s car not being here, the policeman’s face reddening when he’d said “death” so nonchalantly. I knew it, but I couldn’t accept it. It couldn’t be true.
“I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing my arm slightly. But I barely heard him. I was hyperventilating; my shaking had gotten out of control. No. They were wrong.
“You’re wrong! You’re lying! She’s fine! My mom can’t be…she can’t be…” the ground started getting closer and I felt light headed. The young policeman reached out and caught me before I smashed my head against the pavement.
“She can’t be…dead” I muttered quietly before blacking out.
That was a night I’ll never forget as long as I live. Though I miss my mother every day, and wish and wish that she could still be here, or that I would have been nicer to her- a better daughter, the dark cloud that was that night had one silver lining. I looked over at the sleeping man next to me and remembered how sweet he was that night, how he caught me as I fell.
In losing my mother, I gained the love of my life. Not a fair trade, but one I can accept. I guess no matter how dark the cloud, how grey the day, how barren and bleak the present may seem, there’s always something bright just over the horizon. Though it may not seem so at the time, everything happens for a reason. It’s all just a part of the plan.