Washed out Rock Song

"Are you sure?” John asked. I nodded. He grabbed my hand and we made our way to a back door of the school, where nobody would notice us slip out. “I’ll drive,” John said, leading us to his truck in the back of the parking lot.

We got in and he started his car. We were silent as he looked up the address again and drove away. He held my hand most of the way there.

“We’re almost there,” John said, glancing at me as he took his exit off of the highway. I felt my stomach in knots all of a sudden. This was finally becoming very real and I don’t know what I was thinking.

John’s truck slowed and parked in front of a house. He turned and looked at me before shutting his car off. “This is it.”

I looked at him and shook my head. “I can’t do this.”

He reached over and held my hand tight. “Leah, if you don’t want to do this, we can drive away right now and forget we ever came here, but if you do want to do this, I’m going to be right here next to you. I’ll be with you the entire time. I’m not going to leave you.”

His words were comforting and part of me wanted to just drive away. But we were here already, and if not now then when? I imagined what it would be like when she saw me. Would it be like the movies? Would she take one look at me and cry of joy? The thought of her being happy to see me made me not want to turn back.

“Okay,” I nodded. I undid my seatbelt slowly and stepped out of his truck. John met me on the passenger side.

“Ready?” He asked.

I took a deep breath and nodded, following him up to the door. I reached out and rang the bell. Seconds later it swung open.

There she was. It was really her. The same woman from the picture I had, just a bit older. She had long brown wavy hair like mine. Part of me thought that there was no way this would be her. With all of the Margaret Powell’s in the world, the chances of this being her were so slim. But it was. My mom was right here in front of me for the first time in 11 or so years. I felt myself smile a bit.

“Can I help you?” She asked, looking from me to John.

I felt my smile fade immediately. She had no idea who I was.

“Hi, are you Margaret Powell?” John asked.

“Yes, that’s me,” She said confused.

John looked at me and back at her.

“My name is John, and this is,” he paused and looked at me again. “Leah.”

My mother looked at me, this time surprised. “Oh,” she said under her breath. “Um, come in.”

John reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it once. We followed her into her home. She sat at a kitchen table and motioned for us to join her. There were pictures on the wall. Pictures of her and a man, and two boys. She had two more kids. I had two brothers that I didn’t even know about. She had a completely different life. One that she didn’t want me to be a part of.

“I am surprised to see you,” my mother said. “Do either of you want anything to drink?”

I shook my head.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said, “For just showing up like this.” I looked at John and back at her. “I just wanted to know why you left like you did?”

She sighed and leaned on her elbows. “Honestly, it was just too much. Your dad and I got married young, we had you not that long after. After too many years of living that miserable life, I just felt numb and I had to get out. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”

She left because having a family, that life, wasn’t what she wanted. Except now she had the exact same thing, just with different people.

“I’m glad you came though,” she said, “I feel guilty about the way I left sometimes, but it’s good to see that you are okay, healthy. It’s nice to see that you two are still such good friends.” She glanced at John and back at me.

It took everything I had not to completely break down and cry. My coming here didn’t help me at all, it just helped her feel like she did the right thing. She didn’t have to feel guilty for what she did because I’m “healthy”. This whole thing was bullshit.

She glanced at the clock. “I’m sorry to rush this, but I think you guys should go. My husbands going to be home soon and, well, he doesn’t know about you.”

To make this even worse, I was completely nonexistent in her world. She didn’t even tell her husband that she had a daughter.

“That’s fine, we’ll go,” I said getting out of the seat. I had heard all I needed to and I just wanted to go home.

John stood up and shook his head. “No, this isn’t okay.”

“John,” I said, grabbing his arm.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked my mom, his voice raising. “What kind of person does this? You just left your daughter. You just left her. You didn’t call her or write her. You completely forgot about her. What’s wrong with you?”

“John, let’s just go.” I yanked on his arm and he finally turned and followed me back the way we came. We slipped out the front door and down to his truck.

“Leah, I’m so sorry,” he said, pulling me into him tight. “I’m so sorry I talked you into this.”

I pulled away and looked up at him. “You didn’t talk me into this. I decided to do this. And it’s okay. I’m okay.” I wasn’t okay, but I didn’t want him feeling any worse for me. Everything he said to her was exactly what I was thinking, and I’m so thankful that he said it.

“Thank you,” I said.

“For what?” he asked.

“For being here with me.”

He put his hand on the side of my face and leaned over to kiss me. He pulled away but rested his forehead on mine. “I love you, Leah. I’m always going to be here.”

There it was, he said it again.

“Promise?” I asked.

He smiled and nodded. “I promise."