In 102 Languages I Love You

I rested my body on my mothers comfortable bed, digging my face into the surface of the covers. I pushed as hard as I could against the soft silk. I pushed until I could barely breathe, before coming back up for air again. Each time I sunk my face, I counted the seconds I could stay under there before I needed to breathe again. I never got further then fifteen seconds though, before re surfacing, gasping for my dearest air. The thick designs on the sheets scratched at my cheeks, they smelled like my mom. She always liked wearing this fragrance, I don't know what it's called, just that it reminds me of her. It was kind of strong, and tickled badly at my nose. I used to do this a lot when I was younger. I'd lie on my mothers bed, watching her as she stood in front of the mirror, getting read for work, but in this occasion, getting ready for New York.

I watched mom's adroit hands putting on mascara over her dark eyelashes. Her jaw would fall, and her cheeks would suck in every time she did this. She looked so concentrated whenever she did it, making sure she didn't mess up. Whenever this part was over, she'd grab the eye curler and stick her eyelashes in there. She'd press down hard against the eyelash so they'd stick up. Apparently, it made you look more 'attractive' or 'prettier' to mom, but I liked her eyelashes flat like they were. She then went off to apply blush on her face. I didn't get the point of makeup much. The only thing I usually wore was eyeliner, just 'cause I liked the way it looked. What was my mom trying to hide with these appliances? She was fine the way she was! I stuffed my face into the covers once more, and let out a groan of frustration.

"Hey mom." I mumble, my voice sounding dim because my lips were pressed up against the covers. I pulled up my face and repeated. "Hey mom."

"Yes sweetie?" She responds, putting back her makeup in her bag she carries around everywhere. There's another thing I can't get used to, carrying bags. Maybe Frank did what he did because he wanted a 'real' girlfriend. I was far beyond from what most boys expect or want. Maybe he needed someone who he could touch without having her wine. Or maybe he liked girls who could actually 'hook up', and someone he could spent time with without having her parent freak out, or her brother stab him to death. What was wrong with me anyway? What was I lacking that he needed to find it in someone else? What did I do wrong?

Stop Madison, just stop.

"When was the first time a boy ever broke your heart?" I mumble, embarrassed for asking her this. Who do I confide in times like these? Drake isn't here, I don't have a girl best friend, or any friends really. I'm not about to ask my brother, so my mom fits the part right? I can always ask without her getting suspicious, or having to know about Frank. She'd never want a boy in my life. She'd definitely know he'd 'ruin me', or something. My family is too overprotective.

"Excuse me?" She asked, taken back by my question. She slowed down the process in getting all her makeup back into her small bag. I could see her eying me from the semi-circle mirror she stood in front of.

"You know.." I mumbled, trying not to blush. "Who was the first boy to break your heart? How did you deal with it?" I say, trying my best to not sound to interested, or like it was affecting me.
I dug my face back into her covers. Mom and I had never had a 'boy' talk before. I don't think she ever expected me to have a boyfriend, to kiss someone, hold hands or embrace someone else in my arms. She knew marriage for me was out of my grasp, so she never gave me those talks.

Right now, I kind of wish she had.

"His name was Luke." Mom says, finally breaking the silence. I blow out the air I was holding in my mouth, letting it hit against my face, and look up at her. She walks over to me slowly, and sits on the edge of the bed, bringing the bed down with her weight. "He was eighteen and I was sixteen. I thought I loved him.." Mom laughs lightly, looking up a bit. Her eyes look like they're rewinding back to that very moment. "He was a really great guy."

"What happened?" I ask, my voice barely projecting. It sounded a bit hoarse, like I was sick. I think I was just a little afraid to find out, or to even talk.

Mom tilted her head a bit, trying to remember. "He broke up with me. Yeah, I think that was it. We were together for eight months, and one day he just tells me it's time for him to move on. I went a little crazy. I thought everything was fine, I thought we were doing great, and then he just breaks up with me. It was the first time I actually felt hurt, and it was terrible. Luke wasn't a bad guy, I didn't hate him. I kind of hated myself more. I wanted to know what I had done wrong, what was wrong with me, why he didn't like me anymore."

"So what did you do?"

Mom sighed, tracing the designs of her bed sheets with her long finger nails. "I moved on, it's the only thing you're supposed to do. I can't hate him for breaking up with me or blame him for not liking me. I'm not going to make him like me. Like I said he wasn't a bad person. I guess he didn't feel anything for me anymore, and I had to live with that. So I moved on, and that was it." She lets a little silence pass, and I watch her think a little bit. She then tilts her head towards me.

"Why do you ask?" She questions.

"Uhh..uhh.." I stutter, trying to think of something that wasn't suspicious. "Well.." I stall, trying to

think of something. "I was uhm, watching this show and it about this girl and her uh, boyfriend."

"Yeah.." My mom said, waiting for me to continue.

"Oh right, so, well.." I clear my throat. "Her boyfriend tells her to meet her at a party. Well, she kind of gets there two or three hours late. She's looking for him everywhere, but she can't..find him. Two of his friends tell uhm..the girl that he's a light drinker..and they say he's been drinking a lot. Like...a lot, a lot. So she's looking, and she's looking, and she finally decides to check the kitchen, and she.."

"She.." My mom says, getting a bit impatient.

"S-she s-sees her boyfriend a-about to k-kiss another g-girl.." I stutter sinking my face back into the the pillow, remembering the events from yesterday. It got harder to talk thanks to a rock forming in my throat.

"It's those mini-series things on TV. She doesn't know what to do. A-and just because it's show, it's not going be what someone in real life would d-do. What would y-you do?"

I finally look back up at my mom, swallowing that rock in my throat, and sighing a bit. "There are so many things people say drunk people do when they've had too much alcohol. Some say its things they really want to do, but never can. Others say you just make mistakes doing it, you don't mean it. So I'm not even going to mention that crap for this. Cheating is terrible, whether you're sober or not. I honestly don't know what I'd do. Probably thank god I'm not a teenager anymore, or that girl. Let's just leave it to the TV show to make it up or something. I've got to get doing. Dan's not exactly happy I'm dragging him along either to help bring more stuff for Laurie and Thomas. Are you sure you're going to be fine here today?"

I sigh, digging my face harder into the covers and nod up and down, letting the pop up designs burn against my face. "Okay sweetie, we'll be back late. We'll leave you money on the coffee table downstairs for you to order something to eat." She leaned in and kissed my head. "Have fun, okay?"

Fun?

I nodded my face against the covers once more, it was going to cut my cheek anytime soon. "

"Bye." I heard her yell as her feet made their way down the stairs.

"Bye." I mumble, but she obviously doesn't hear it. I roll over on my back and stare up at the dull, dark blue color of the ceiling.

Frank was my first boyfriend. He was the first one to give me all these feelings, and according to his friends, he liked me a lot. If he did though, why would he do this to me? I shifted over to my side, watching as air squeezed through the creases of my mom's window, letting the curtains fly up slightly.

What do I do?

I wanted to hate him so much for doing this to me, I wanted him to go through the torture he put me through yesterday. I wanted him to suffer as much as I am right now. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring myself to hate him like I wanted to. Hate was something I just didn't feel.
I get up, off my mothers bed and make my way downstairs, slowly. After yesterday, I don't know if I'm weak because of what he did, or I'm weak about of my ALS. My feet coming in contact with with the stairs make loud screeching sounds from each step. The house is silent, except for the small raindrops falling outside the house. I'm wrapped in a sweatshirt and sweatpants with thick socks. Winters like these could get me sick. Weak immune systems are dangerous, one bad cold could have me in bed for to long. I sigh reaching the living room, and walk over to the window; to take a look outside.

Forty four degrees Fahrenheit. It's not cold enough for the raindrops to freeze and turn into snow. Mom and Dan are driving in NY in this weather? My heart speeds, and my brain creates terrible images. I look away from the window hearing a loud thunder erupt in the sky. Just think happy thoughts, just think happy thoughts.

Happy thoughts.

My eyes open wide when Frank comes into mind.

I groan, lying my body down on the couch, grabbing a pillow and thrusting it on my face. I wish there was a manual that could help me, to tell me what to do. It would things easier.
For who knows how many hours, I lie there on the couch, the pillow over my face, and smothering myself into many thoughts about yesterday. I hear the lighting outside roar, and the rain pound onto the ground. The clock is ticking away, and I'm lying here doing nothing. Mom called two hours earlier to say that they were in New York City, and if the rain didn't stop, they'd spend the night at the Calhoun's. I knew Dan was probably ready to kill himself.

If Frank were anything near a good boyfriend, wouldn't he have called or some-
My eyes burst open when a hear a knock on the door, his knock on the door. Shit.
For a couple of seconds I lie there, not knowing what to do. Do I open the door and tell him to leave me alone? Do I tell him to fuck off, and thank him for making my heart hurt? It becomes harder to breathe, my stomach rises up and down quicker then ever as the knocks outside continue, louder now.

"MADISON!"

I cringe when I hear him yell my name.

"MADISON, I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, OPEN THE DOOR!"

He's going to get soaking wet! He'll get sick!

I quickly get off the couch, walking over to the door in a fast paste. I press my face against the door, trying to swallow that same rock stuck in my throat. I feel his fist coming in contact with our door. "MADISON, PLEASE, OPEN THE DOOR. LET'S TALK. MADDY, OPEN THE DOOR." He yells, trying to break my door down.

I suck in air, my lungs shake and my hands wrap around the freezing door knob. Okay Madison, just stay strong, just tell him to leave you alone, just tell him to go away, just tell him cheating like this can't be forgiven.

I close my eyes shut for a second, and my arms swing the door open. My eyes open slightly, and stare at the creature in front of me. Rain droplets are stuck onto his face; they're dripping from his nose, his lips, everywhere. He stands in front of me shivering, from the temperature outside. His lips are a shade of purple, a sick purple. He's in sweats, where the hell is his jacket? My eyes rise up to his hair, that is now a wet mop.

"You're soaking wet!" I say, afraid he'll get sick, forgetting what he did to me yesterday.
His lips quiver, as he tries to speak. "D-don't say anything, Frank. Don't say anything, j-just go home, I don't want to hear you talk, not now. Go home."

He shakes head head violently, and water droplets splash against my face. He's shaking, he's trembling, he's freezing, and I really want to tell him to come inside. I want to get him out of his soaking cloths, give him Dan's spare one's. I want to make him feel better. "I-I'm-m not g-going anywhere, until y-you let me in."

And no matter how hard it is to do, I shake my head. "Then I guess you're going to be waiting on that step for a while." I say before slamming the door in front of his face.

"I'M NOT GOING TO MOVE MADISON!"

I hear him yell as my weak legs move over to the couch. I sink into it, slowly, still hearing Frank yell outside the door. I lie on the couch, cradling myself with my own arms. I want to be deaf right now, I don't want to hear him.

Growing up I came to notice certain things about my mother. She'd always be extra depressed on a certain day of the year. Once, on one of those certain days of the year, I saw her holding the picture of a man; my father. Her eyes were puffy, her hair stuck up in random ways, her lips quivered, and her nose was slightly the pigment red; she had been crying. From that day on, I promised myself I'd never shed a tear over a man, they weren't worth that.

And right now, I broke that promise.

I cried, still hearing Frank yell from outside my door.