Your Melody Sounds As Sweet As the First Time It Was Sung

A few hours later, I entered my house to silence. This was quite unusual, seeing as mom usually played some sort of music that I wasn’t too fond of. I don’t really know why she bothered to text me. Now that the guys were gone, the only other place I could be was at Kiah’s, but of course that meant being the third wheel with her and Jake, and honestly I’d rather come home to angry lions than watch them eat each other’s faces. Slight exaggeration, but still.

“Mom?” I called into the ringing silence. This was odd. I didn’t like it.

“I’m in here,” she called back.

Following the sound of her voice, I dumped my bag on the floor and walked into the dining room. Mom was sitting quite elegantly on the cream-colored suede couch, surrounded by a variety of purple and crimson cushions. She had a half-empty glass of red wine in her manicured fingers, and her smile seemed worried when she looked up at me, although she was clearly trying to hide it.

“Hey sweetie, how was your day?”

She was trying to make small talk.

“Fine,” I shrugged like the teenager I was, taking a seat on the one-person couch opposite her. I didn’t say anything else. If this was as important as she made it seem, she’d have to bring it up. I only had to wait around twenty seconds until she volunteered the information.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes?”

She called me Charlotte. Maybe this is even more serious than I thought.

“I… I got job offer.”

I looked up at her. She was eyeing me carefully, as if expecting me to blow up.

“Mom, that’s great!” I exclaimed.

I knew she was thoroughly bored with her job as an executive's secretary, but she kept it up for the income.

“Yeah,” she nodded quietly, her eyes clouding over as she lost herself in thought.

I took this time to take a close look at her. She was doing very well for her age. She was forty-five, but still looked as though she was thirty something. Her shiny blonde hair, so unlike mine and my father’s, was twisted up on her head and held in place with a clip, a few strands escaping and falling on her shoulders. Her light eyebrows were perfectly sculpted, and her brown eyes were set gazing somewhere else. Her perfect pink lips and elegant white clothes made her look like the ideal suburban housewife, but she was my mother and I knew her better than that. This wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to be down on her knees in the dirt tending to an unruly rosebush, or she wanted paint smudged over her cheeks to show for her hard work on a painting. They were her passions, not slapping on a fake smile for others to think that her life was perfect. She’s been trying ever since we moved here. I can’t help but feel like her charade was for my benefit, like if she couldn’t cope with my dad’s death then I wouldn’t be able to either. She's managed to keep it up for a long time now. She's never been the same as she used to be, but at least she was coping.

“What’s the job, mom?” I asked, as if that multitude of thoughts hadn’t just taken over my mind.

“It’s writing for a weekly magazine,” she began. “The column gives me a lot of freedom, so I can write about something different every week. It also pays better than the job I have now.”

“Mom, that sounds amazing. Really. I’m happy for you.”

Even before she dropped the bombshell I knew there was more to it.

“Thanks darling, but… that’s not all.”

I raised my eyebrows in question and she inhaled deeply.

“The job… the job is in Chicago.”

I went numb. I couldn’t even comprehend it. Well, that’s a lie. I could comprehend it, but I couldn’t even imagine leaving Las Vegas. Although, I suppose that’s how I felt when I had to leave Jersey, and now I can’t imagine ever not moving. But still...

“W-what?”

Mom rushed around the coffee table and to my side, grasping my hand.

“Charlie, listen to me. We don’t have to go. I don’t have to take the job. I know how many precious memories you have here.”

She was right. Memories. The guys were gone now. The life we had lived was over. I gulped, but in all honesty I didn’t even need to think about it. She didn’t need to say it; I knew. This meant a lot to her. There was no way I was going to deny her that.

“It’s okay mom. Really. It’s okay.”

“Oh, but honey, what about all your friends? Ryan… Spencer… Brendon?”

I tried not to think about it.

“No, mom. I want to go. This is for the best.”

After a little more convincing, she believed me and I escaped by myself to my room.

Chicago would be a chance to start anew. Fresh. I could clear my mind of everything I’ve grown accustomed to. I could see Pete, if he’s not too busy. It might all turn out for the better.

“Tell me all of your secrets
Can’t help but believe this is true
Tell me all of your secrets
I know, I know, I know
Should have listened when I was told
Who wants honey
As long as there’s some money
Who wants that honey?
Let me out…”

I jumped, yet again, when my phone started ringing in my pocket. I swiftly took it out and looked down at the caller I.D.

Brendon.

I bit my lip, trying to decide whether or not to answer. How was I going to tell him? When it stopped ringing after a minute, I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to decide, but of course it then began to ring again.

How to tell him?

I don’t want to.

I can't.

I won’t.

I squeezed my eyes shut and painfully switched off my phone.

I’ve never purposefully ignored a call from Brendon.

But I had to. I needed to get out of this unrequited love. And if I wanted to get out of this, then I’d have to let go of Brendon.

***

When I checked my phone the next morning, I had eleven missed calls. One from Spencer, two from Ryan, eight from Brendon.

I never called back.