Loving Your Imperfections

Sandra



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Mia (later that day)

I sat in the passenger seat of Nate's car. Since it was just him and I today, he had brought his car. He usually drives his dad's SUV when we go out as a group, but his car is a beauty. He drives a really pretty black cherry Challenger. I am in love with his car, and he takes pride in taking care of it.

But - even sitting in that car - did not take away my nerves. We were parked outside Sandra's home. The same home I came yelling at her when mom's tenth year of death anniversary came by. I feel so ashamed of myself right now. I was so rude to her. I cried as I yelled profanities, telling her how it wasn't fair that she was allowed to live while my mom died in that wreck.

How I still cried when having nightmares, waking up in a sweat as my dreams played a repeat of that day. I know I was too small when it happened, but I still remember it because it was the same day my sister Audrey graduated
from high school.

A day we should have been celebrating, and instead, my sister had to rush to the hospital as they worked on my broken arm and stitched my leg, all while trying to keep me calm.

"Look at me, Mia!" Nate says, lovingly, cupping my cheeks. "YOU got this, ok? I will be right there with you. You have nothing to worry about." he says, making me love him more. He's being so supportive, I mean, he's always been supportive of me. He's even an amazing friend to me all these years, but now even more like my boyfriend.

"Nate, what if she still hates me? I was so mean to her that I made her cry. And at the worst moment, because the day I stormed in here, she was celebrating her birthday. I mean, think about it. The same day Mom died in the car wreck, Sandra was supposed to be celebrating her sixteenth birthday. SIXTEEN, Nate. She's only 28 years old, that's two years younger than my sister, Audrey. She's had to live her life in a wheelchair since then, and it hurts to know Mom was the culprit of all this." I say, feeling guilty about my past actions.

I know I'm only eighteen. A lot of people will say this is the time to explore, mess up, and live life because we're young, but my dad has taught me otherwise. For everything you do, there are consequences; whether good or bad, but there is ALWAYS a consequence for our actions.

"Mia, no one can hate you. You're the sweetest, most understanding girl I have ever met. And true, it was bad what you did, but everyone deserves a second chance. And sure, maybe it won't be easy, but she will eventually listen to you and forgive you. You'll see. And I will be here with you every step of the way. I promise." he says, making me feel warm inside.

"How are you so understanding with me? You are too good to me, you know that?" I say, cupping his cheek and placing a kiss on his lips. His smile is dazzling, making his cute dimples show as I slowly pull away.

"Come on, let's get this over with," he says, turning, opening the car door, and getting out. I follow right after, grabbing my bag and holding it tightly as I set it over my shoulder. My nerves have g0t the best of me. I look at the structure one last time and inhale deeply before I take my first step.

Nate holds his hand out to me and locks his car with a click as we make our way inside. The door opens sliding automatically. The fresh air conditioner hits us with a cool breeze, and the nurse at the reception greets us with a smile.

"Hi, how can I help you? Are you here for a therapy session?"I smiled, sighing as I felt Nate grip my hand to reassure me that things would be ok. "Yes, I was hoping you could tell me if a woman named Sandra,"

"What do you want with my daughter this time, young lady?" a lady's voice calls from the side, making me turn. It was Sandra's mom. She hates my guts, and she has all the right. I was a bitch to her daughter the last time we saw each other.

"Please, I just want to talk to her for a few minutes. I promise I will behave."

"Nope. No can do. You need to leave." she says, nodding her head and walking past us. She held a blue and purple star tote in hand and waived with her finger refusing us to see her. "I know my mom was the one at fault for the accident." I blurt out, making her stop in her tracks.

The receptionist looks away, tapping on her keyboard and acting as if she needed to make a phone call. Nate looked at me worried, and I know he was, but I need to do what was right.

She slowly turns, looking at me with disappointment. "My daughter was never at fault. It was your drunken mother. Yet you decided to make my daughter's life hell for something she didn't do. She has been feeling guilty for all these years, despite her innocence, and you know why? Because of you. She doubts herself, her self-esteem is so low..." she chokes, getting teary-eyed and sighing deeply.

I can't help but feel guilty for all that she has had to endure. I lower my head in shame, and I feel the tears coming out. "I didn't know. I swear. My dad kept it from me. I didn't know the truth. I always thought..."

"That it was my daughter's fault. I know. That still doesn't make it alright for all you said to her." she says, and my eyes widen as I see Sandra in her wheelchair behind her mom.

"Mom, it's ok. Let her in. I'm already done with therapy. I have a few minutes to spare." she says, making her mom turn with a worried expression.

"But, sweetie."

"It's ok, Mom. I can handle this. I think... It will do us both good to talk. Like my doctor said, we... We both need closure to this. Come on, kid. Follow me." she says, gesturing for me to go sit with her.

I look at Nate, and he smiles nodding in agreement. "Go. I will be out in the other sitting area waiting for you. You got this baby. I love you." he says, and my eyes widen realizing this is the first time he says it, but I stay quiet. A big huge smile forms on my lips as he kisses my lips.

I follow her until she stops by a table with chairs around. It looks like their dining area, and it's fairly quiet around. "So, take a seat. Let's talk," she says, making my hands clammy. I become nervous, and I really hope my nerves don't get the best of me, causing me another panic attack.

All I know is that she's right. Whatever she has to say, I will listen this time. No more blurting out hateful words. It's time I apologize and listen to her version of the accident. I need to know the whole truth. And this time- no one can keep it from me.

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