Rekindled Love

Rekindled Love By Jodi Hutchins As I sat on the tiny bed in my childhood room, I allowed nostalgia to wash over me. Pictures from high school of my two best friends were still tacked to my wall and my sash from graduation was draped on the mirrored vanity. My mother had left it all untouched, the dust only being disturbed during my infrequent visits. A soft rap on the wooden threshold caused me to lift my gaze and meet my mother’s amber eyes. “Hey, are you getting settled in well?” My mother’s smile momentarily lifted my spirits, bringing forth my own smile. She crossed the room and eased herself down beside me on the small bed. I nodded. “Yeah. I wish there was a way I could thank you, Mom. Are you sure Max is okay with this?” My stepfather hadn’t come into the picture until I left for college and our brief encounters had been limited to holiday dinners and the like. She waved off my gratitude and concern. “Kelly, I told you in the car to stop thanking me. Having you around here again is help enough. Max was excited about the arrangement. If anything, we’re getting the good end of this deal with you helping with Gage.” She nudged my arm with her elbow, reminding me of my offer to babysit my baby brother. It was the only assistance I could offer since she refused to accept rent. Her auburn hair, so like my own, was pulled back into a casual French braid. It was her customary style for work. “Are you leaving for work soon?” I asked, although the answer was obvious from her appearance. I was making conversation. I didn’t know what else to say other than to thank her again. My mind was still numb from the drastic change of scenery. She nodded with a soft smile. “Yes. Max will be home in about half an hour and I’m on call tonight, so I have to go in early. Speaking of which, I should probably get Gage ready for bed.” As if on cue, I heard my three-year-old brother tumbling down the hall, obviously done playing in his room as he hollered for our mother. She laughed, squeezing my arm before getting up to leave. Alone again, I shuffled through my scant belongings. Eventually forgoing the unpacking process, I lay back on the bed and stared up at the peeling glow-in-the-dark stars plastered to the ceiling. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been back since I left for college, but the circumstances that had me laying in that particular bed, experiencing an all-too-familiar angst was nearly suffocating. Ask a group of millennials what their take is on student loans. I’m sure the agreed consensus will always be the same: they suck. After exhausting the college fund my mother had set aside for me, I reluctantly had to take a few loans out to complete the last semester of my degree. I graduated, astounded to find a job with a reputable information systems company that offered unbelievable wages. It was wonderful; a dream come true. Until I was laid off. I found a new employment, which offered less money but had an option to work remotely, and I moved back in with my mother and her new family. Being back in my hometown was mildly unsettling after my time in the city. I sighed, allowing myself to wallow briefly in the anguish of my circumstances. A few moments later, the light tone of my mother’s voice echoed, the end of a fairytale lifting down the hall from my brother’s room. “…and the princess was overjoyed when the prince helped her with her chores, finally knowing what true love was like.” I covered the snicker that escaped my mouth at my mother’s made up ending of the classic princess fairytale. Always the feminist. I guess I didn’t blame her for supplementing a different version, due to the slightly misogynistic original, but I couldn’t help my laughter. Poor kid, getting all these weird ideas about true love and fairytales. What a load of s**t; or so I thought at the time.