Life in the new house with my mom was weird, but we worked to make it as normal as we could. The only thing that really bugged me was how distant she became. She would disappear off in her room for hours sometimes. I soon began to worry that maybe she was depressed. Surely these weren’t signs of a person who was actually coping well with something. I let it go for about the first few months but at around month six I decided it was time I step in and say something.
Mom, what’s going on?
I hoped my genuine interest in her well-being was coming through.
I know what happened with Dad, even though I’m not entirely sure what it was, really messed you up. But it’s been six months now. I mean, I’m getting really worried about you. I hardly see you anymore and it’s really bothering me.
I had managed to corner her on her way to her room presumably to lock herself up for an extended number of hours. Who even knew if she was sleeping anymore? She looked up at me with eyes that spoke more than I knew she would. I could see it all. There was sadness in her eyes, and clearly she was tired, but I saw something I definitely wasn’t expecting. A hint of frustration. I could see the tiny creases in her forehead create an almost invisible scowl. If I hadn’t been studying her face as closely as I was, I might have missed it. But I didn’t.
I told you. I’m just trying to cope in my own way. Please don’t bother me. Go out and make some friends. Live a normal life like you should be doing. How’s school? Have you made a lot of new friends?
Her evasion techniques were far too obvious, but I played along for her sake. I figured if I really wanted to know what was going on, I would have to find out on my own.
About two nights later, I heard her call from her room that she was going to go to the grocery store. As she shuffled by my room I heard her mumbling about how our life was a mess and that when she went to the fridge, all she found was an old bottle of mustard and a jar of pickles. I knew that if there was ever any chance that I would be able to look inside her room, it would be now. Every other time, she had shooed me away very quickly, even if I had just wanted to go in to see her. I shouted out to her that we needed some more milk, and with a grunt I heard her walk out the front door. I immediately moved into action. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking for, but I knew I would have to be very quick about it. My mom wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of shopping, even if it was grocery shopping, so I knew she would be in and out as quick as she possibly could. I ran across the hall to the large and surprisingly solid wooden door that she locked herself away behind. That’s when I realized, locked! The door was probably locked. I tugged on the doorknob, and just as I suspected, it did not budge. Ugh, I hadn’t factored this in my plan, there was no way that I’d be able to get in now.
Unless...
If I knew my mom at all, maybe I could piece together where she would keep a spare key...if she even had one. I was suddenly filled with an unfamiliar feeling: a mix of guilt, anger, and frustration. For a second I stood there and wondering what I was doing. Was I really going to invade my own mother’s privacy? But then I remembered the way her eyes had looked, so sad and tired. Re inspired by this thought, I began to search around for a key.
My mom tended to be a very disorganized person. So, she left a lot of random piles of things everywhere. This unfortunately meant that I would have to look through a lot of stuff before I would ever even come close to finding a key. I began to shuffle through the various papers she had scattered along the hallway. As I went through paper after paper, I began to lose hope. I suddenly felt like I was drowning in this pile of papers and I couldn’t breathe. And that’s when I touched something cold and metallic. I dragged the piece my hand had touched out from under the papers and gasped when I realized it was the key. I jumped up to use it.
And that’s when
I heard the front door unlock.
