My mom bought a fresh bouquet of white roses on our way to my dad's grave. As she cradled the delicate blooms, a smile flickered on her faceâa small moment of joy amidst the heaviness of our visit. I couldn't help but smile back, but we both knew we'd be much happier if my father were still here with us. It left me wondering: How deeply did she long for him? How long had she suffered before she could even begin to let him go? And how had she managed it when I still struggled every day?
Arthur Oscar Jones. My mom traced the name on my dad's tombstone with her fingertips as she carefully placed two white candles beside it. She took a deep breath and lit them, the flickering flames dancing in the soft breeze. Standing there, she stared at my dad, lying beneath the soil that had welcomed him. As time passed, his soul had descended, leaving only bones behindâa stark reminder of the finality of life.
When my dad died, I fell into a depression that felt insurmountable. Mom was no stranger to grief either, but I sensed her suffering was deeper. I remembered how she had told me she waited for three long years to be with him, and while I felt a pang of gratitude that she had waitedâbecause otherwise, I wouldn't existâI couldn't help but wonder about the pain wrapped in that patience.
She draped her arm around my shoulder. I glanced at her and saw the tears pooling in her eyes, the silent battle of holding them back. She didn't want to show my dad her weaknessânot the vulnerability of navigating life alone with me.
But if only she could see how strong she was. She raised me on her own, fulfilling all my needs despite the obstacles life threw at her. Even though we lacked quality time together, she always managed to make breakfast before rushing off to her early shift. I admired her tenacity, her bravery in facing the world alone, and the unique way she lived her life. Yet, she failed to recognize these qualities in herself.
Instead, the weight of depression consumed her. She tried to fill the emptiness inside her heart by dating, hoping for a spark of happiness, but no one could ever replace my fatherâthe true love that resonated in her heart, and mine as well.
After our visit to my father's grave yesterday, we went to our favorite diner across town in Pittsburgh. My mom and dad had taken me there many times, a place that was steeped in memories of their first dates. It seemed cliché, like something out of a movie, but it was true.
"I remember the first time we came here," my mom would say, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia. "Your dad had that awful haircut, and I just knew I was going to marry him."
I smiled at that thought, the warmth of shared memories wrapping around us like a hug.
At school the next day, my mind lingered on the past. I was sitting at lunch with my friends, Amelia, Noah, and Logan, who were in varying degrees of teasing and comforting me about an awkward encounter I had with a classmate named Cayden.
"For a minute or two, I was scared that Cayden would tell his dad about what I did to him," I said, rolling my eyes. "But you know what? I'm not scared!"
Amelia sighed, clearly unimpressed. "But you still owe him an apology. That was your clumsiness, not just some random accident," she said.
"I blame my clumsiness, not myself," I retorted.
"You still need to talk to him," Noah chimed in, his face serious.
"And Cayden's nice. You'll be fine," Logan added, a comforting grin on his face.
"Okay, but why are you two still here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at Noah and Logan, who exchanged glances. They both looked back at me, clearly amused.
"To make sure you apologize to Cayden," Noah said, crossing his arms. "You really don't want to be in bad terms with him until graduation, do you?"
I shook my head at the thought of enduring that kind of tension. "Well, there you go," Noah said with a smirk. "No pressure, okay?"
"Sounds like pressure to me," I muttered.
I was the opposite of my mom: I didn't feel strong, brave, or bold. I wanted to be, sure, but the idea of being bold felt daunting. Maybe it was because I thought strength and bravery came hand in hand with confidence, and I lacked that third trait. I was trying to convince myself that being strong, brave, and confident could coexist, but the reality was I often felt like I was simply drifting through life.
"Talk to him later during lunch," Amelia urged. I shot her a look that said, 'Do I really have to?' She nodded silently, patting my back in encouragement. "You can do this. It's just an apology."
Easy for her to say. Apologizing was something that made my stomach twist with anxiety. I wanted to be perfect, and yet I felt far from it. All I ever wanted was to be enoughânot just for everyone else but for myself.
"Or maybe do it now," Amelia whispered, nodding towards Cayden, who was by his locker, chatting with Katie, oblivious to the world around him.
I shook my head. "No, thank you." I tried to walk in the opposite direction, but Amelia grabbed my backpack, stopping me.
"Do you really want to wait? If you want this to be over, you have to do it now. It won't take long if you just apologize," she said firmly.
"Fine, let's just get this over with," I sighed, steeling myself as I walked toward Cayden. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and mentally rehearsed the words I wanted to say, hoping I wouldn't stutter or make things worse.
I was just a few feet away when I stopped in my tracks. I turned to look back at Amelia, who gestured for me to continue. I swallowed hard and turned back to Cayden and Katie. "Excuse me," I said.
Cayden and Katie turned their heads toward me. Cayden's expression shifted to one of seriousness. "What do you want?" Katie asked, her voice dripping with disdain.
"I didn't come here to talk to you, so could you step aside?" I replied, trying to sound braver than I felt.
"And what if I don't want to?" Katie crossed her arms, her glare challenging me.
"Then don't," I said, moving around her to stand beside Cayden. Katie moved in closer, throwing a venomous look my way.
"Can we talk?" I asked Cayden, my heart racing.
He stared at me, silent as I stood there, feeling like an idiot. The seconds ticked by, and I was about to turn away when Katie spoke again. "Cayden doesn't want to talk to you. Just leave."
I stared at her, taken aback by her audacity. "I need to talk to him," I insisted, trying to keep my composure.
Cayden grabbed Katie's elbow and pulled her aside, whispering something to her while I stood there, feeling invisible. It was humiliating to watch them converse as if I weren't even there. I was ready to give up and walk away when suddenly, Cayden grabbed my elbow and pulled me outside the school.
"Hey!" I protested.
We stopped, and I looked up at him, confusion etching my features. "So, aboutâ"
He cut me off, pulling out a cigarette and looking for a lighter in his pocket. "You got a lighter?"
"No," I said, exasperated.
"Then I can't talk to you right now," he said, sticking the cigarette in his mouth and looking more interested in lighting up than hearing me out. I crossed my arms, trying to keep my frustration in check.
"Seriously? I took all this courage to apologize for my clumsiness, and you're just going to act like a jerk?"
Cayden squinted against the sun, and I shielded my eyes to meet his gaze. "You're impossible," I said, turning to head back inside, feeling defeated.
The school bell rang, echoing in my ears as I hurried to class, knowing I was lateâagain.
***
After school, Amelia decided I needed a distraction and dragged me to the mall. Shopping was not my idea of fun, especially when I didn't have any money. It felt torturous to window-shop while surrounded by stylish clothes I couldn't buy.
"Why haven't you apologized yet?" Amelia asked as she rifled through the racks.
"He was rude! Plus, he said he wouldn't talk to me without a lighter for his cigarette!" I exclaimed, frustration spilling out.
Amelia looked at me skeptically. "You still owe him an apology."
"I need an apology from him," I shot back, my irritation growing.
"Okay, fine. But this dress would look amazing on you," she said, holding up a bright, eye-catching dress.
"That dress is way too short! I can't wear that!" I protested, glancing at it again, trying to convince her.
"Why not? It's cute!" she insisted, ignoring my objections.
"It's above my knees!" I replied, exasperated.
"You're crazy. I'm buying it for you, whether you like it or not," she said, determination shining in her eyes.
"I'm not wearing that, whether you like it or not either!" I shot back, but Amelia was already moving on to the next rack, undeterred.
As she continued to rummage through the clothing, I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about my own wardrobe. I had always been the type to stick with the basicsâjeans, T-shirts, and the occasional sweater. Amelia was a whirlwind of fashion sense, always ahead of the trends and effortlessly putting together outfits that I could only admire from a distance.
"Are you even listening?" Amelia's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back into the moment. I glanced at her, and she had a determined look on her face, one that meant she was on a mission.
"Sorry, what?" I asked, trying to shake off my insecurities.
"I said this color would look great on you!" She held up a bright yellow top that practically screamed summer. It was a cheerful shade, and I could picture it paired with a nice pair of shorts. "You need to step out of your comfort zone, you know?"
"Maybe," I replied, tilting my head. "But I don't want to stand out too much."
"Why not? You deserve to be noticed!" Amelia insisted, her enthusiasm unwavering.
I wanted to roll my eyes but refrained. "I'm not really looking to be the center of attention, especially not at school." My mind drifted back to my earlier encounter with Cayden. Standing in front of him felt like standing in front of a firing squad, every second counting down to an explosion of awkwardness.
"Whatever," she said with a playful scoff. "Just try it on. For me?"
"Fine, just for you," I agreed, taking the top from her hands and heading to the fitting room.
As I changed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The color was bright, and while it felt a bit foreign, I had to admit it looked kind of nice. The fabric hugged my frame comfortably, and I found myself turning from side to side, studying how it fit. But the longer I stood there, the more I felt exposed. I wasn't sure if I could pull it off.
"Are you coming out or what?" Amelia called through the door.
I took a deep breath and stepped out, almost hiding behind the curtain as I did. "What do you think?"
Amelia's eyes lit up. "Oh my god! Yes! You look amazing!"
I glanced at her with skepticism. "Are you just saying that because you want me to buy it?"
"No, seriously! You look more confident already! You should totally get it!"
Her excitement was contagious, and I felt a little spark of happiness. But doubts crept back in. "But what if I wear it and just feel awkward all day?"
"Confidence is key!" Amelia exclaimed, waving her arms around as if to demonstrate. "You've got to own it! Plus, everyone else is going to be in their boring outfits. You'll turn heads."
"Maybe I don't want to turn heads," I muttered, but part of me was starting to feel tempted.
"Just think of it this way," Amelia said, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "If you wear this top, you'll have a great conversation starter for Cayden. You know, since you're going to apologize to him. You'll look good doing it!"
"Now you're just mixing everything up," I laughed, shaking my head. "This is not a strategy for schoolyard diplomacy."
"Why not?" she asked, giving me a playful nudge. "It's all part of the plan, right?"
I pondered for a moment, contemplating her words. Maybe I could use a little confidence boost. "Okay, I'll get it," I said finally.
"Great! Let's find some bottoms to match," Amelia said, her eyes already scanning the store for the perfect pair of jeans.
As we browsed through the racks again, I felt a mixture of excitement and dread bubbling inside me. Shopping had transformed from a tedious chore into a mission. I was determined to find something that made me feel good about myself. Something that could distract me from the anxiety of facing Cayden.
As we settled on a pair of high-waisted jeans that fit just right, I could sense Amelia's anticipation building. "You're going to look so good in this outfit! Just wait until you put it on together!"
I nodded, trying to channel her enthusiasm. "I just hope it'll help me with... you know, the whole apology thing."
Amelia paused, her excitement dimming a bit. "You've got this. Just remember, he's not the enemy. You're both just kids trying to figure it out."
"Yeah, easier said than done," I muttered.
"You'll figure it out, trust me," she reassured me, and her confidence made me feel a little better.
After checking out, we headed back to her house. I planned to try on my new outfit in front of her full-length mirror and see if it really made me feel different.
***
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