Empty

A car ride with your mom. Or well this persons mom.

The music blasted as we drove down the road, it was scary to be with my mom alone. Not because she was a mean or scary person but because there was always silence between us. We may be talking to each other but we weren't really talking understanding and listening to one another. Maybe that was my fault because I had secrets.  A rap song began to play about smoking weed and having a good time with your friends, I watched her eyes narrow and she slammed the off button.

“We could just change the station.” I clicked it back on and let it linger for a second because I liked this song but I couldn't tell my mother that. I changed it to something more acceptable before she could complain again.

“Ugh I hate that song.”

“It’s a good song, nice bass.” I commented.

“It’s about weed.” She hissed, I knew my moms opinions on weed. I smiled a sick smile as I imagined what she would do if she ever found out that I smoked.

It’s not so bad. It helps you relax, maybe you’d be better if you smoked. Sometimes you just need to relax and a hot bath just won’t do it. Silence, actual silence, filled the car. I stared out the window, watching the world blur by. I realized I wasn't breathing, for a second I wondered how I had managed to forget to do something so essential to life but then I figured that I should start breathing again before pondering this.

I inhaled. Oxygen. It was nice. My mom grunted in disgust. “What?”

“Look.” She nodded in the direction of two young boys kissing and cuddling on the park bench. “I don’t go waving my heterosexuality in peoples faces, they don’t have to waves their homosexuality in mine.”

I laughed, “Like how when Dad will kiss your cheek.”

“I don’t kiss him back.”

I rolled my eyes. My mom didn't have an issue with gays, well she tried not to and that’s better than what she could be doing.

There was more silence, trees just slipping by as fast as the stripes on the ground. “Mother, do you love me?” I asked smiling wondering if she would remember the book she used to read aloud to me as a child.

She did but she could not recall the next lines, “Of course honey. More than anything else in the world.”

“What if I robbed a bank?” I asked.

“Then I would hide the money and get the best lawyer to free you.”

I nodded, “What if I killed a guy?”

“I would hide the body and we would move states away from here.”

I nodded again, What if I smoked weed? “What if I took over the world?”

“I would expect you to buy me a better house.”

I laughed. What if I told you I liked girls and boys? “But what if I was like Hitler?”

“I would tell you to stop being like Hitler.” She laughed.

What if I had a girlfriend that you didn't know about and we smoked weed together? “And if I didn't listen?”

“I would ground you.”

“You can’t ground me, I rule the world!”

“And I rule you.” We laughed.

More silence, she looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and started to sing softly to the song. It was a love song. Funny, I thought going into the chorus, The person who loves me the most and would give their life for me is the person that I trust the least. That shouldn't be how it is. I opened my mouth then closed it. Open and closed. Maybe when I’m 18 and she can’t be mad because I’ll be far away. I laughed, “Mother do you love me?”

“Yes, with all my heart.”

Really? Even if I do everything you hate and think is wrong? “No matter what?”

“I will love you until forever ends, with all of my heart.”

I smiled, “That leaves none for Dad.”

“He’ll live.” We laughed. Though we talked it was still empty silence between us. Empty conversations filled with empty words.

Would you still love me if you knew the truth?

Author's Note

Please tear it down, every flaw can be flaunted. It's the only way for me to get better. Oh and enjoy. I would especially like to ask if I got to wordy. Thank you!

Reviews

[アキス..]

I started reading this thinking I would hate it; I was surprised though. It's excellent. It reminds me of conversations I've had with my mother and others (though my secrets are different ones.) I don't quite know what it is about it, it's rhythmic in a weird sort of way, and despite being deceivingly simple seeming, it invokes some strong emotions.
I'm not sure what I'm trying to say so I'll just say this. "It's good. Keep writing. :D"

[Imara]

Oh thank you! If I might ask why did you think that you wouldn't like this in the beginning? And it's just about a conversation between a mother and daughter and how she can't tell her mom things about herself;Things that she feel that she should be able to trust her mother with

[アキスーテ (Akisute)]

I'm sorry but I don't remember why I thought that, I would tell you if I did recall.
Yeah, she can't tell her, it's kinda depressing in that way ain't it? Well I guess you would know you wrote it. xD

[Imara]

Haha I know the feeling! Hate it when I forget things lol.
Haha it is, I just felt that a piece on this distrust between families was needed.

[Broken.Words]

Nice write.the way you write is so good and so honest.
you took me to that moment :) while reading this

[Imara]

Thank you :) I'm really glad that you liked it.

[Broken.Words]

welocme :)

[Talal Hussain]

Great job imara !! It wasnt that long just perfect :-)

[Imara]

Thank you!

[Deuces]

You really should not expect criticism for this piece. It is deep, so honest, so real and extremely relevant. It's cute, sad and hopeful all in one, with a hint of rebellion. I truly enjoyed this. I could actually relate somewhat to this kind of interaction with mom at that age and uhhh... she not knowing about certain things I did, lol. This was really good.

Imara - you're one of the few story writers on here people like to read. Just go with the flow and don't be afraid of mistakes, wordiness, etc. Pursue this talent and get published.

Nice work.

[Imara]

Oh can I even thank you enough for this? I'm extremely thankful. I'm glad that you could relate so well to it, I think it's a normal teen thing. Thank you so much. People like you are what keeps me writing!

[Bentley Dadmun]

Like her essay, New, this is a multi-faceted story. One can skim the surface, reading it just as a story, or one can immerse themselves, and enter an intricate matrix of memories that will surface into consciousness.
Mother and daughter. When the daughter reaches a certain age and begins to push back the up to then, restricted horizons, mother and daughter relationships become complex and convoluted, and a certain mutual wariness permeates the relationship as the daughter experiments, the mother restricts. It’s behavioral ritual that’s been played out for 15,000 years, and will continue to be played out for another 15,000, assuming our rather self and other destructive species lasts that long.
At any rate, mothers who read Imara’s, Empty, will immediately recognize what’s going on, and visions of conversations with their own daughters will pop unbidden into their minds. They will laugh, smile, cry, or, perhaps flounder in despair and regret.
And daughters will remember and know that perhaps Mother wasn’t so naïve and clueless after all.
Empty is a good read. It’s astute, many layered, and when read by Mothers and daughters, will undoubtedly be the catalyst for their own conversations with that; oh, so important other in their lives.

[Imara]

Oh thank you so much for you kind words! I cannot tell you how flattered I am. Thank you

[Marie]

No it isn't too wordy; just right. You need to back and search for any little errors. There aren't many. And it's good.