Resistance
1195 Words
River’s Pov
“Mom, I don’t want to meet him,” I yell.
It’s ten in the morning. I’m halfway through my morning routine—working out, taking some pics for the sake of it, and smoking. I already have a lot of stress from school, and Mom decides today is the day to drop a bombshell.
“River, you have to,” she says, her voice firm.
“I do not have to do anything,” I shoot back.
“You’re going to like him,” she says.
“And if I don’t?” I ask.
“Well, it’s not up to you now… is it?”
I let out a laugh. “Thank heavens… I don’t have to go then.”
To be honest, I’ve never been concerned about my mom’s dating life; she’s dated a lot of guys since Dad walked out on us.
“Why must I meet him?” I ask finally.
“We are going to be a family—”
“Family?” I cut in. “Mom, you just met the guy.”
“I’ve known him for a while, River.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “A while?”
“How long, Mom?”
“Five,” she says calmly.
“Months?” I shoot back.
She fiddles with her fingers nervously. “Years,” she finally says.
“I didn’t think you would like him,” she says in defense.
“And by some…” I run my hands through my hair, “by some miracle, you think I would like him now?”
She presses her lips together. “He’s nice.”
She says it like I’m meant to know. Like that explains everything. She seems to forget I’VE NEVER MET THE GUY. Christ, my head screams.
It’s still early, and Mom’s still here—pissing me off.
“Fine,” I say.
She looks at me like I’m a different person. “Fine?” she asks, raising her brows.
“I said fine,” I repeat, trying to dismiss her.
“River,” she says, questioning.
“Christ, Mom.”
“Don’t try anything.”
“Sure. Anything else?”
“No,” she says. She’s about to leave, then pauses. “Dinner’s at five,” she adds, leaving no room for protest.
When she leaves, I fall onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Five years.
That’s not a phase. That’s not casual. That’s a whole secret life she kept neatly folded away from me.
I pick up my phone and bike keys and place a call to my best friend, Diane. She knows how to handle me when I’m like this.
“Home?”
“Yeah—”
I don’t wait for her to say goodbye.
The ride to Diane’s is too short for me to clear my head, but long enough to deepen the turmoil inside me.
I pull up at her apartment. She’s already waiting for me outside, arms crossed, a bottle of soda in hand, like she knew the mood I’d be in.
“You got here fast.”
“Hardly,” I reply.
She studies my face. “You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit.”
She steps aside, letting me in. I drop onto her almost worn-out couch. She sits across from me, pulling her knees up.
“Alright?”
I lean back, rubbing my face with both hands. “Mom’s had a boyfriend for five years.”
“Five?” she blinks.
“And tonight,” I add, staring at the ceiling, “we’re having dinner. Like it’s normal.”
She lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”
She watches me, reading between the lines like she always does. “You mad at her?”
I pause, not finding the right words.
“I don’t know,” I say finally. “I think what upsets me more is the fact that she didn’t tell me about the relationship, not the relationship itself.”
“That would piss me off too.”
“She kept acting like she didn’t owe me an explanation.”
Diane snorts. “Parents.”
I c***k half a smile, then it fades just as fast. “From the looks of it, he makes her happy.”
“You think?” she leans forward.
“I think so. She never brought anyone home before.”
“True… your mom’s quite the dating expert.”
I sigh, sinking deeper into the couch. “I know it’s five years later, but she wants me to meet him. That doesn’t just happen unless it’s serious.”
Diane nods slowly. “So this might not be just some guy.”
“No,” I say.
She taps her fingers against the bottle. “You scared?”
The word hits harder than I expect.
“No,” I say too fast. Then I exhale. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just don’t like walking into something that’s already decided for me.”
“That’s fair.”
Silence stretches between us again. I stare at the faded stain on her carpet, my thoughts looping back to the same thing.
Five years.
“I keep thinking about how normal she sounded,” I say quietly. “Like this has been her reality for so long that I’m the only one catching up.”
Diane softens. “That hurts.”
“Yeah.”
I check the time on my phone. Still hours left, but it already feels too close.
“I should head back soon,” I say. “I need a personality transplant.”
She smirks. “Papi.” Her nickname for me rolls off her tongue effortlessly.
I roll my eyes. “I told you not to call me that.”
“Three years ago,” she claps back.
“I need to go,” I say.
“The family dinner?” she half-smiles.
“Not a family,” I pause. “Yet.”
My phone rings, interrupting her. I don’t want to pick up, so I silence it. I know it’s my mom. Diane senses my discomfort and takes my hand.
“You don’t have to go,” she says, like there’s no question about it.
“I kinda do,” I reply, fighting the urge to stay.
She pulls me toward her and whispers calmly in my ear, “No… you… don’t…”
I want to stay with her and just—
“Try not to be a jerk.”
“No promises.”
She stands and hands me the soda she’s been holding the whole time. “For the road.”
I take it. “Thanks.”
As I head for the door, she calls after me. “River?”
I turn.
“Don’t go in expecting to hate him,” she says. “Sometimes that just makes things worse.”
The ride home is quieter. No music. Just the hum of the engine and my thoughts racing ahead of me—imagining the house, the dinner table, the way Mom will look when she introduces us.
This is River. My son.
And then him.
The guy who stayed.
- Writer
