The Boy That stayed

Chapter Ten - Leaving Everything Behind ( I )

I kept staring at the acceptance letter long after Mum had left the room.

University.

A new city.

A new life.

The words still didn't feel real.

For years, I had dreamed about getting away from that town. I had imagined what it would feel like to wake up somewhere nobody knew me. Somewhere nobody knew about Tessa. Somewhere I wouldn't have to worry about whispers following me down a hallway or wonder whether people were talking about me behind my back.

Now, it was actually happening.

I was leaving.

And strangely, the thought made me happy.

Scared, too.

But happy.

Maybe this was my chance to become someone different.

Maybe I could finally breathe.

Maybe I could start over.

But the more I thought about leaving, the more another question began to bother me.

What would life be like without Mum?

That thought frightened me more than anything else.

Because as much as I wanted to leave the town behind, I wasn't leaving alone.

I was leaving her.

And suddenly, that made everything feel different.

A few days later, Mum sat beside me at the dining table with the acceptance letter between us.

She had already read it more times than I had.

"I still can't believe it," she said.

I smiled.

"Me neither."

"You worked hard for this."

I looked down at the letter.

The scholarship details were written clearly on the page.

Half scholarship.

It was a huge opportunity, but it wasn't enough to cover everything.

Tuition.

Accommodation.

Books.

Food.

Transportation.

There were still so many things we had to figure out.

Mum sighed softly.

"We'll manage."

I looked at her.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"We'll manage."

"But I can work."

She frowned.

"Work?"

"A part-time job. Once I get there."

"Maya, you're going to school."

"I know. But I can work a few hours a week."

She looked at me carefully.

"You don't have to carry everything yourself."

"I know."

But I wanted to.

Not because I didn't trust Mum.

Because I knew she had already done so much.

We weren't poor.

We were comfortable enough to survive.

But we weren't wealthy either.

Mum had worked hard to give me what she could, and I knew sending me so far away would stretch her financially.

"I'll work," I said again.

She sighed.

"Okay. But your studies come first."

I smiled.

"Deal."

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

"We'll figure everything out."

And for some reason, hearing those words made my eyes burn.

We'll figure everything out.

It sounded so simple.

But maybe that was what I needed.

The next few days became a blur of preparation.

We made lists.

Then we made more lists because Mum didn't trust the first ones.

Clothes.

Shoes.

Books.

Toiletries.

Documents.

Chargers.

Bedding.

Everything went into piles around my room.

Mum kept remembering things.

"Do you have enough socks?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mum."

"What about your towels?"

"I have towels."

"How many?"

I laughed.

"Why do I need ten towels?"

"You never know."

"Ten?"

She laughed.

"Fine. Maybe five."

For the first time in a long time, our house felt alive again.

There was laughter.

There was movement.

There was something to look forward to.

And yet, underneath all of it, I could feel the sadness waiting.

Because every time I folded something into my suitcase, I knew I was one step closer to leaving.

One evening, I sat on my bedroom floor surrounded by clothes while Mum folded shirts on my bed.

I watched her quietly.

"Mum?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I'll be okay?"

She stopped folding.

Then she looked at me.

"Of course you will."

"What if I'm not?"

She smiled gently.

"Then you'll call me."

I looked down.

"What if I don't make friends?"

"You will."

"What if I hate it?"

"Then you'll come home."

I looked at her.

She shrugged.

"You don't have to prove anything to anybody."

I smiled faintly.

"What if I want to come home?"

"Then come home."

Her answer was so simple.

But something inside me hurt.

Because I wasn't sure if I would.

Not because I didn't love her.

I loved her more than anyone in the world.

But home was complicated.

That town held too many memories.

Too much pain.

Too much of the person I was trying to leave behind.

I didn't tell her that.

I just nodded.

"Okay."

That night, I couldn't sleep.

I stared at the ceiling, thinking about my life.

And for the first time, I realized something that hurt more than I expected.

I had spent years believing I had people.

But I really didn't.

Tessa had been my friend.

My only real friend.

And then she was gone.

After her, there was nobody.

No best friend.

No group of girls waiting for me after class.

No person I could call when something good happened.

No one to cry with when something went wrong.

No one to share secrets with.

No one.

Except Mum.

She had been there through everything.

Even when I shut her out.

Even when I lied.

Even when I refused to tell her what was wrong.

She stayed.

She didn't know everything about me.

She didn't know about the pills.

She didn't know the full story about Tessa.

She didn't know how badly I had fallen apart.

But she stayed.

And suddenly, the thought of leaving her hurt more than leaving the town.

I turned onto my side and pulled the blanket closer.

I was going to miss her.

So much.

Two days before I was supposed to leave, Mum came into my room while I was folding clothes.

She looked at the piles surrounding me and sighed.

"Enough."

I looked up.

"Enough what?"

"Enough packing."

I laughed.

"But I have to finish."

"You've been packing for three days."

"Because you keep adding things."

She smiled.

"Exactly. So now we're stopping."

"Why?"

She crossed her arms.

"Because I have a plan."

I narrowed my eyes.

"What plan?"

"Get dressed."

"Why?"

"We're going shopping."

I stared at her.

"Mum, we already bought almost everything I need."

"I know."

"Then why are we going shopping?"

She smiled.

"Because I don't want to spend your last two days packing boxes."

Something about the way she said it made my chest ache.

"What do you want to do?"

She shrugged.

"I want to spend time with my daughter."

I didn't know what to say.

So I smiled.

"Okay."

We spent the entire first day shopping.

Not because I needed anything.

Mostly because Mum kept finding reasons to buy things.

"Look at this."

"Mum, I don't need that."

"You might."

"I definitely won't."

"You don't know that."

I laughed.

We went from one shop to another.

We bought a few clothes, some shoes, toiletries, notebooks, and little things I probably could have lived without.

At one point, I picked up a sweater.

"Mum, I don't need this."

"You do."

"I have three sweaters."

"Three isn't enough."

"Since when?"

"Since you're going far away."

She put it in the basket before I could argue.

I laughed.

"You've become impossible."

"I'm your mother. It's my job."

We stopped somewhere for lunch.

Mum ordered more food than we could possibly finish.

I stared at the table.

"Are you feeding me for the entire semester?"

"Maybe."

I laughed.

She laughed too.

Later, she insisted on taking pictures of me.

"Stop moving."

"Mum!"

"Just smile."

"I am smiling."

"That is not a smile."

I laughed.

She took the picture anyway.

Looking at the picture afterward made me smile.

I looked happy.

Actually happy.

And I realized I hadn't seen that expression on my own face in a long time.

By the time we got home, my feet hurt.

But I didn't care.

It had been a good day.

A really good day.