The Unexpected Encounter (An Eminem Fan Fiction)

Chapter 52: Headlights

It was Sunday morning, March the 30th. The day we were leaving Michigan.

I had all my luggage ready and packed as of last night after leaving Marshall. My father did, too—that was what we'd accomplished, as well as eating out and seeing some last few places of Michigan, on our final night together before leaving.

Right now, my dad and I were ready to leave our hotel. We were checking around the room to make sure we had gotten everything. After doing so and confirming that we did, we walked out, going to the front desk of the hotel to confirm our check-out. Soon after that, we went outside, catching a taxi in order to take us to the airport. 

We arrived in the airport many minutes later, the familiar feeling of being in it hitting me once again. However, it was much different—I wasn't going to be arriving at a new place, soon about to have a new experience—I was only returning back to my familiar surroundings, the place I'd grown up all my life.

Several hours later of going through the whole airport process again, including the plane ride and procedures of the such, we finally reached home. Sweet, sunny California. 

The weather was really a shocker to me that day (which I should've been used to already, living in the state with its unpredictable weather); but it still really took me by surprise. Once retrieving our luggage and stepping outside to get to our car (which we parked in the airport garage all week long), the weather had been scorching hot. At least, it felt like it to me. It most likely was only about eighty degrees; but, coming from Michigan, it felt like we landed in a desert. And plus, a random eighty degrees in March? Only in this state.

It was only just reaching three but I had felt exhausted already, like I had been completely over this day. I didn't know if it was because of the depression I felt, my trouble of sleeping the previous night because of it, or just the instance of being on a plane again which made me feel this way, but I knew for certain that when I reached home, I would probably crash.

After about fifty-five minutes of dozing off in the car, my head leaning against the window the entire ride back, and my dad talking to me about the random things he always goes on about (me half-listening to them, too), we reached home. My father nudged me as he pulled us up into the drive-way. "We're home, honey."

"Hooray." I got out of the car eventually and got my stuff out from the trunk of the van. We went though the entrance, soon coming into the house that I knew. My father and I separated since he went right away to his own room to start unpacking his things. I heard him exchange greetings to Elle (who I heard was all the way in the living room) before he did so. I walked right ahead, catching up, heading toward my room which I would have to pass the living room anyway to see her, too. Once I stumbled over there lugging my bags (my dad already disappeared into his room), it appeared that my sister was watching television on the big screen we had. She ignored me, however, really into whatever show she was seeing. "Nice to see you too, sis. Missed you and everything," I shouted at her, sarcastically.

Elle lifted her head from the TV screen. "Oh, yeah, hey. You too."

I groaned at her, laughing as well. I knew we would end up catching up later so I didn't mind it much. She was always like that, too. I continued on to my room, not expecting much, when I heard something that shocked me completely coming from the kitchen—it was my mother's voice. She had just stepped out from it, having gotten herself some coffee. I thought she would have been at work, but apparently (as it appeared), it had been her day off. Wonderful.

"Sal," she called out to me, trying to stop me in my path to get to my room. I ignored her, immediately glancing down at the ground. I made no eye contact with her as I continued to trudge along. My mom noticed, me making it completely obvious probably, as she began to raise her voice—however, not in a threatening way. "Sal! Dear..." That caught my attention. I stopped and looked up at her, my eyes meeting with hers. She continued softly. "I've been trying to reach you for the last few days through phone."

I began to speak. "I know. I got all your missed calls and voicemails."

She paused. "You didn't do anything? Did you even listen to your voicemails?"

I let out an annoyed grunt. "No; why should I? So you can tell me how much you hate the things I like? Tell me what I should be doing instead with my life? Go on about how I'm a disappointment to this family? If none of those, the most obvious is about my favorite artist. I've heard you over and over. No matter what you say, nothing will stop me from—"

"No," my mom interrupted, halting me. "It's not any of that at all. If only you heard what I said, what I've been meaning to relay to you—"

"Can you just get to the point?" I questioned, letting out an irritated sigh. I honestly wanted this conversation to come to an end. I was only getting more agitated and stressed, on top of being completely tired over everything else. I just wanted to get to my room, now.

My mother hesitated, then began again, in a quiet tone. "Elle and I talked, but this was after I walked in on her, overhearing something. She was on the computer, of course, playing a song; one of his songs." She took a deep breath. "The song was called 'Mockingbird' and it was one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard." My eyes gradually widened to a great extent after I heard her say that. "It made me think about what you said on the phone when you called us back that one time. I never realized that about him... the emotion and message he conveys in that song, and his love for his daughters. He isn't a bad person at all. I never knew that about the singer you've liked all this time. It happens to be that, only what I've heard from is bad, inappropriate things. It sounds completely differently then what I thought I knew him as."

"Mom," I said, stopping her there. "It's because," I began to explain, drawing in air. "The songs that you've heard from before aren't by Eminem. They're by Slim Shady. I want you to know that those are two completely different people, and it's best you don't get them mixed up," I smirked tiny at her. "There's also a person called Marshall Mathers who is behind all of this, the 'mastermind,' and that's the person in general I admire."

My mother didn't know what to say. She just stood there, mouth open, looking at me like I'd just spoken a foreign language to her. However, in a way, she understood what I meant. She started again slowly, bringing up something completely different, smiling as she did so. "Have you eaten yet?"

I paused a second, then answered her, perplexed. "Just some snacks on the plane ride back. Why?" I asked.

"We'll go to your favorite restaurant, Olive Garden, for dinner. What do you say?" she said to me.

"Really?" my mouth hung open.

She nodded. "And then maybe you can explain this whole thing better to me. You said you met him, too?"

"I did," I smiled widely.

"You can tell me more about that, along with how your trip was. I'd like to hear it," my mom said to me. "And, you should ask your father if he wants to join for dinner."

I smiled at her. "Will do. I'm going to go settle down now. More likely nap," I chuckled, confessing.

She laughed as well, letting me go ahead finally to my room to do so. Before entering and literally just crashing for good on my bed, I heard her cry something out to me. "You know I love you!"

I yelled back in response, yet smiling to myself. "You're being weird, Mom! Cut it out!" 

However, I eventually ended up telling her I loved her as well; which I did.