Following You?
877 Words
"Are you sure about this, Claire?" Anita asked. She sounded worried.
Anita was not just a friend. She was like a sister to me.
I did not answer right away.
There was a complete silence between us. In that silence, my mind drifted back to different moments between my son and me.
"Why aren't you eating, baby?" I touched his shoulder gently.
He glanced at me quickly.
"Did Aunt Rita cook this? I want Aunt Rita's food. It tastes better," he poked at the food. He did not look interested.
"It's your favorite dish, sweetheart. I made it especially for you. Open up. Let mommy feed you, alright?"
"No!" he yelled. "I want Aunt Rita to feed me!"
He pushed the food away and left the room crying. He acted as if I had taken something important from him.
At first, I told myself it was nothing. Children are honest. Children have their preferences. So I laughed it off. I told myself I was being too sensitive.
But memories become sharper over time.
I remember one morning clearly. I wanted to do something special. I went to the mall and bought him a superhero costume for Halloween.
"I don't like this one!" he screamed, then threw it on the floor. "Aunt Rita would buy me a better one. She knows what I like."
"Oh baby... tell me what you want," I approached him slowly. "I can change it, okay?"
"No! I want one from Aunt Rita!" he shot back sharply. Then he walked away.
He did not look back.
Back then, it felt like a small cut. Now I know better. It was a warning. A sign that worse things were coming.
"Claire. Claire."
I swallowed hard. My throat was tight. Finally, I looked up at my friend.
"Did you hear what I said? You didn't answer at all."
"Can't you see that both of them don't want me?" I said softly. "They want her. That is why I decided to give them what they want."
Her face showed deep concern.
"Shh... you don't mean that," she whispered. She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Her eyes looked sad.
"I do," I said. I forced myself to breathe. "I watched myself disappear in that house. Slowly. As if I was never meant to be there in the first place."
"So yes. I am sure. Very sure." I exhaled.
The words felt final. Heavy. But also liberating.
"For the first time in years," I continued, "I want to chase my own dream again. I have been stuck in a marriage that made me lose myself. Now I am done begging to be seen."
"Do you know," she said, her voice shaking slightly, "that when you left the company, the publisher was devastated?"
I looked up at her with curiosity.
"Nobody could understand why you were giving up what you had built for years," she continued. "Listen. I will always be proud of you no matter what."
I looked down at our joined hands.
"You were brilliant," she said. "You still are. And I promise you... I am going to help you come back. You won't be alone this time."
Something in my chest loosened. I smiled.
She let go of my hand. We continued drinking our coffee together.
Later that afternoon, I went grocery shopping at the mall. I did that every weekend. I parked the car in the lot and paused.
Almost at the same moment, another car parked right next to mine. The car looked familiar.
I sat completely still in the driver's seat. My hands rested on the steering wheel. I looked through the side mirror.
First, the driver's door opened. My husband stepped out.
Then the back door opened. My son climbed out.
Then the passenger door opened. Rita stepped down. She smoothed her clothes and laughed.
My face fell. I watched it all unfold in front of me like a movie I did not want to see. My heart broke.
They looked so good together.
My son was bouncing on his toes with excitement. His laughter sounded clear and free. Rita leaned down to his level. She said something that made him laugh even louder. My husband watched them with an expression I had not seen in years...
They looked like a happy, complete family.
But as I kept watching, something shifted in my chest. It was no longer pain. It was clarity.
I realized that I never belonged here from the very start.
I understood that for a long time, I had only been a guest in their lives. A substitute. Someone filled the space until the right person came back.
I opened the car door. My legs shook as I stepped out and shut the door behind me.
My eyes met Noah's immediately. The laughter on his face faded. Confusion replaced it. Then uneasiness. He looked away first and frowned.
My husband turned around. His eyes narrowed when he saw me. He walked toward me with large, deliberate strides. His body language was defensive, as if I were a problem.
"Couldn't you do any better than follow us around?" his voice rose.
My heart beat faster. The word "follow" hit me like a slap. But I did not flinch.
- Writer
