I let out a frustrated growl because I'd wanted Travis to have that money. I should've known he never intended to keep it. Stubborn ass.
‘Raining On Sunday' by Keith Urban was next on the playlist, and I paused because I couldn't remember a time when I heard this song with Travis. Then I remembered our first rainy Sunday together at his apartment. I felt heat rise up in my cheeks thinking of how we lost control together on the couch.
The playlist was like a soundtrack to our relationship. Every song held a memory.
Next up was ‘Silver Wings', the song we danced to at the summer festival. As I listened to the words, I realized how sad the song really was.
I paused the music to make a trip down to the vending machines by the motel office. The dry Sacramento air was a sharp contrast to the humid Illinois weather. And while it would have been a great place for a vacation, it felt wrong. It didn't feel like home.
After I made my selection of unhealthy junk food, I went back to my room. Chips didn't really qualify as dinner, but homesickness had left me without much of an appetite.
After slipping on Travis's shirt, I pushed play and lay back on the bed while I listened to the music. I hugged the pillow, wishing it was Travis.
When I heard ‘From the Ground Up' and ‘Kiss Me', I got really turned on because it reminded me of our first time together.
When Queen's ‘Another One Bites the Dust' came on, I laughed because I knew he was making fun of my pathetic snowboarding skills.
With every song, my longing for Travis grew. It had barely been an hour since we said goodbye and I already missed him so much.
It wasn't until the end of the list that I got really emotional.
The two last songs were ‘Already Home' by A Great Big World and ‘Quit Your Life' by Mxpx. Neither of the songs had been a part of any event over the last few weeks. Travis added these for a reason.
I'd never even heard the last one before. But as I listened to the lyrics, I knew this was coming straight from his heart. It perfectly described our simple life in Tolson, and I was reminded of the way he asked me to stay with him. He hadn't even tried to hide the vulnerability in his eyes.
I'd wanted to say yes.
It broke my heart to say no.
The rough, scratchy hotel sheets smelled like bleach, so I buried my nose in the shirt and took a whiff. Instant comfort.
For several minutes, I shamelessly sniffed Travis's clothes. I probably looked like a lunatic, balled up on the bed, smelling a shirt.
After the last notes rang out, I burrowed into the covers and prayed for sleep to come.
TRAVIS
Driving away from Angel was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. I had to force myself not to look back at her as I was walking away, because if I did, I wouldn't have been able to leave.
Every mile marker on the highway mocked me. The further away I got, the heavier my chest felt. It felt like there was a weight sitting on me, and with every mile that stretched between us, another pound was added.
My body rebelled at the idea of leaving her behind. Everything inside of me told me to turn back.
But I just kept driving, leaving jagged pieces of my heart along the way.
ANGEL
Drifting in that place between asleep and awake, I had about ten blissful seconds before I remembered where I was.
It was a happy place.
A place where Travis had his arms around me. A place that smelled like fresh cut grass and the wind rustled the cornfields. A place where I could feel dandelion fuzz tickling my nose.
Then I opened my eyes.
I realized it wasn't dandelion fuzz that was brushing against my face-it was my own hair. And the rustling sound wasn't the cornfields-it was the rattling of the old air conditioning unit by the window. The drab colors of the motel room came into focus as I blinked.
Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the popcorn-textured ceiling. The queen-size bed felt massive and cold. I knew waking up without Travis was going to hurt, but I didn't realize just how much.
As I trudged to the bathroom to get ready for the day, I felt like I actually had to remind myself to breathe because the tightness in my chest was so overwhelming.
I thought about the many mornings I'd be waking up alone in the future and I wondered if this was really worth it.
What was I even doing here?
I'd been so focused on the end goal-rebuilding a relationship with my mom-that I didn't realize what it would feel like to be here by myself.
It felt extremely lonely. Even lonelier than after Claire passed away. Because now I knew what it meant to feel like I belonged somewhere.
But that somewhere wasn't here.
Did I really want to be in California?
Immediately, I felt guilty. My mom was here and this was my chance to have her back in my life. What if she regretted leaving me? What if she needed me?
Moving into the hot spray of the shower, I forced myself to think about visiting the prison later and I felt a hint of excitement.
I was going to see my mom. That was what I needed to focus on. I'd been waiting for this moment for the majority of my life.
As I did my best to push all thoughts of Travis and Tolson from my mind, I thought about what it would be like to be face to face with my mom for the first time in over ten years.
*
Sitting at one of the visitor's tables, I nervously shuffled my feet on the linoleum floor while I waited for my mom. The visitor's room was large with gray walls and several tables throughout. A few vending machines sat at one end of the room. I took out the three dollars I had in my pocket and thought about getting a snack for us, but I had no idea what my mom liked. Deciding to wait for her so I could ask, I refolded the bills, then slipped them back into my pocket.
Wiping my sweaty palms on my dark wash jeans, I quietly repeated Beverly's words. "Expectations are your friend. Don't sell yourself short."
As I finished my little pep talk, I noticed the people sitting at the table next to me giving me odd looks. I sent them an apologetic smile then clasped my hands in my lap to keep from fidgeting.
I caught sight of short blonde hair by the doorway, and even though she looked much different than I remembered, I instantly knew it was my mom. The bright fabric of the jumpsuit she was wearing didn't do her fair complexion any favors. I always did hate the color orange.
Standing up quickly, I braced myself for some kind of greeting as she came closer. I'm not sure what I was expecting. A hug maybe? Even a handshake would've been better than nothing.
I'd had more hugs in the past few weeks than I had in my whole life. Sad, but true.
Hugs were normal to me now, so I was disappointed when she just pulled her chair out and sat down.
Now that she was closer, I was able to tell how much she'd changed since the last time I saw her. The skin on her face was weathered and her hair was so thin in some places I could see her scalp. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and there was no warmth behind her gaze.
"Angel," she said and I slowly sat back down across from her. "You're the last person I expected to see on my visitors list. You turned out real pretty. Even prettier than I was at your age." While her compliments were nice, her tone was distant. Cold. "How old are you now?"
"Eighteen." I tried not to feel hurt that she didn't know my age. Did she even remember my birthday?
"So, what brings you out this way? You're a long way from home."
The first response that came to mind was that I didn't have a home anymore, but I couldn't bring myself to say that out loud.
"Claire died," I said quietly.
She nodded. "Yeah, they told me a while back. I'm sorry about that. Not much I could do about it in here."
"I understand," I said, wanting her to know I didn't hold a grudge. I wanted her to know I forgave her and we could start with a clean slate. "And, well, that's the thing. You're the only family I have left now-"
"You didn't come all the way out here for me, did you?" she interrupted me. "I can't be any help to you while I'm locked up."
"But you're getting out soon. I thought maybe I'd find a place for us. I can get a job. We could start over … " I trailed off from my rehearsed speech because she was slowly shaking her head.
"Angel, I can't be your mom. I wanted to love you. I tried for seven years to love you and I just couldn't," she said, completely emotionless.
I sat silently because I couldn't process what she was saying.
"I wanted to love you, but I couldn't," she repeated. "I wasn't meant to be a mother. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"No," I whispered.
I really didn't understand. I couldn't understand. Weren't mothers supposed to love their children? It was simple biology. The laws of nature and whatnot.