Best Friends Forever

10

My dad and I decided to call it a night, our interest in watching anything completely gone after my mom's almost-breakdown. I went up to my room in a weird state of confusion, my brain stuck between trying to decipher what happened and trying to proactively solve it.

I would go talk to my mom tomorrow, I decided. And not just tomorrow, I would make a bigger effort with her in general. My dad's cryptic words had scared me. I had always blamed her for us not being particularly close, but deep down I knew I had been pushing her away for a long time.

I had always harbored some sort of jealousy towards my mother, one I couldn't necessarily explain. My childhood was filled with people telling me how great she was, how pretty she was, how funny she was, and it didn't take me long to realise that I would never be able to compare to what other people saw her as.

As I grew older and grew into my body, the compliment I always recieved was "you're so pretty, just like your mom". There was nothing I hated hearing more, because in a world where I had only ever been validated for my looks, she had taken that from me too. And not just taken it from me, she outshined me. Even though she was a middle aged woman now, she still got more male attention than I ever would.

Addy once told me it was because I wasn't inviting like my mom was, and that could've been true. Where she was bubbly and loud, I had trouble being personable with strangers, especially ones I feared found me attractive.

My love-hate relationship with beauty followed me around everywhere, haunting my life in a way I couldn't get rid of. On one end, I hated my looks being my sole redeeming quality. I'd never really been complimented on anything else, which evolved into me feeling like I really did have nothing else to offer. On the other hand, I'd become reliant on the constant validation my looks brought me because if I didn't have them, what else would I have? It was a cycle I had yet to escape.

Shaking away all thoughts of my mother, I sunk down into my bed and stared up at my ceiling. I had two problems right now: my feuding friend group and my newfound worries about my mother. I needed to solve them both, but I didn't know how.

I decided to start with my friends. The easiest way to do this was through reconciliation, so I dialled who I thought would be the easiest person to show forgiveness.

"Hey, Lei," Lucas answered after a few rings.

"Hey," I said cautiously. We hadn't spoken since he had stormed out of the car on Saturday. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," he quipped, and it wasn't hard to see that he was still angry.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"For what?" he asked.

"I don't know. But I'm sorry if you're mad at me, too."

"You shouldn't apologize to people if you don't think you've done anything wrong, Leila."

"Have I done something wrong?" I asked.

"You tell me," he said. "Did you talk to Brad on Friday night?"

Immediately I stiffened. Brad must've told his stupid soccer team something, something that I was sure wasn't an accurate recollection of what actually happened.

"What did Brad say?"

Lucas let out a chuckle. "He said that you threw yourself at him and that he rejected you. I already know that didn't happen, because you're too much of a chicken to throw yourself at anyone."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I am not a chicken. But of course I didn't throw myself at that asshole, he's such a liar."

"But he hit on you," Lucas said, a statement of fact.