Chapter 51: Heart to heart.

Laramie:

"Oh, nothing much... just contemplating the meaning of life and our place in it." I tried to keep my voice casual, but the irritation was practically dripping from my tone.

I hated to admit it to myself, but the whole situation with my mother affected me a lot more than I thought at first.

The happy-go-lucky smile faded from Elodie's face as a slight frown drew her brows together. She regarded me with a tilted head.

"Wow, sweety, that sounds pretty serious. Are you okay?"

I turned my head to look at her - she looked genuinely concerned about me and I was overcome with a surge of affection for the girl that had dubbed herself my best friend on the very first day that she met me. And also, the girl that made me squirt cum for the first time.

I exhaled slowly, trying my best to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me.

"Yeah... I'm okay, thanks. It's just been one of those days."

She watched me quietly for a second or two. Then, a slow smile curled the corners of her mouth, her eyes softening even more.

"Well, I'm on my way out to meet up with a few friends - we're going for pizza and beer. You're more than welcome to tag along. I mean... if you'd rather do that than contemplating the meaning of life and all that." She had the slightest hint of teasing in her voice.

Her invitation was tempting - I wanted to get my mind off of everything that was going on with my mother, but I just didn't think that I would be very good company. And I wasn't feeling up to meeting new people and spending the night making idle chit-chat with people I had no interest in and who probably had no interest in me either.

"Thanks." I smiled sweetly. "But I won't be good company tonight. I think I just want to be alone."

Elodie didn't say anything right away, but she also didn't move - she just looked at me, her eyes searching my face like she could find all the secrets I was hiding there. I tried my best to keep my expression neutral. I didn't want Elodie to see how upset I really was. I didn't want to be as upset as I really was. And I didn't want Elodie to spend her night worrying about me.

She sighed and crossed the room over to my bed. "Scoot over." She said, pushing my legs out of the day and taking a seat on the corner.

I raised myself into a sitting position and folded my legs in under me.

"Tell me all about it?" She coaxed gently.

"All about what?"

She tilted her head once again, looking at me with exasperation in her eyes. She moved a little closer to me on the bed, resting her hand on my thigh. My skin tingled beneath the soft warmth of her touch.

"Whatever's going on in that pretty little head of yours. I can see that you're clearly very upset - even though you're trying so hard not to show it."

I looked away from Elodie, twisting my fingers together in my lap. I didn't want to talk about my feelings - it just wasn't something that I did. I preferred bottling everything up until it turned into passive aggressiveness and then pretending that everything was fine. I hated the feeling of vulnerability that accompanied laying your soul bare to others.

But I also knew Elodie well enough by then to know that denying it would be pointless and that she wouldn't leave me alone until I gave her what she wanted. I suppose I should be thankful for a friend like her - someone that actually cares enough to give a damn.

"It's my mother..." I began, my voice sounding small and hesitant.

"Oh, sweety. Is she okay?" Elodie moved even closer, her hand tensing slightly on my thigh.

"Yeah... yes... She's fine. I guess."

"You guess?" She arched her brows.

I wasn't even sure where to begin. It was such a complicated story - and an embarrassing one.

How was I supposed to tell someone what my mother did to us: how she walked out on her family because she was convinced that her life would be so much better without us, how she completely cut me off because she suddenly realized that she never really wanted to be a mother, how I cried myself to sleep for months after she left - that I couldn't eat, couldn't smile, could barely breathe, that the pain of losing her almost ruined me.

But that I finally got to a place where I had moved on. A place where I finally made peace with what happened and accepted the fact that I no longer had a mother. A place where I was finally okay with all of it.

And now she was back. And she wanted to know how I was - wanted to pretend like nothing happened.

I've never even said any of it out loud before. My dad and I barely spoke about it after it happened - we were both too consumed by our own grief. Too wrapped up in our own sadness to be able to cope with whatever the other one was feeling. And by the time we were both over the worst of it, neither one of us felt much like talking about our feelings. I guess I'm exactly like my dad in that way: we both specialize in burying our feelings and acting like we're fine.

But somehow, sitting on the bed with Elodie, her hand resting on my thigh, I felt comfortable enough to talk about it. Somehow, I just knew that Elodie would listen without judging and without trying to convince me to do something that I wasn't ready to do - I knew that she wouldn't try to fix something that I didn't want fixed.

So, I took a deep breath, lifted my gaze to hers, and slowly began telling her the entire sordid tale. I left nothing out - not a single detail no matter how small I thought it was.

By the time I finished Elodie stared at me with wide eyes, her expression a mixture of pity and compassion. A second later, she lunged forward wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a tight embrace.

"Sweety. That's one of the saddest stories I've ever heard. I'm so sorry that you had to go through all of that."

"Thanks." I didn't know what else to say.

But strangely, I felt better - lighter somehow. Almost like I wasn't carrying it all on my own anymore.

Elodie pulled back and smiled at me. I smiled back. She had tears in her eyes.

"Forgive me for saying this, sweety, but your mom sounds like a real bitch."