Like Dragonflies

“Let me in,” she demands. There’s a vein bulging from her neck I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

I don’t want to let her in because whenever I’m around her I feel so drained. I feel small, and still, I have the insane urge to shrink myself even more.

“I’m kind of tired, Mom. Can we talk later tonight?” I feign exhaustion but really Mars has given more energy than I know what to do with. I just don’t want to expend any on my mother.

“Absolutely not. Are you hiding something in there?” She folds her arms tight across her chest—and I realize she won’t move unless I let her in—so I take a giant step back and gesture to the inside of my room.

“I’m not hiding anything,” I tell her honestly. “I was just painting. I wanted some alone time.” I stiffen my spine so I have perfect posture in her presence. I hate she has mind control over me.

Mom walks over, erasing most of the distance between us. I can smell expensive perfume on her skin and the product in her hair. She must have just come from the salon.

Her eyes probe and inspect me, landing on my neck. My throat heats beneath her judgmental gaze and I feel the need to shrink myself again. I want so badly to draw my shoulders up to my ears and cross my arms over my midsection.

Something is keeping me standing strong though. Something pushes me to look into her eyes instead of at the paint-speckled carpet beneath my feet.

It’s Mars.

It’s the small seed of bravery he always gives me. Only now, it’s sprouting roots. Now, it’s stretching and growing branches helping to anchor me when I would normally cower.

I am done fucking cowering.

“Sage, what is that on your neck?” Mom points at the bruises Mars left on me last night and my throat grows tight. My tongue is a useless wad in my dry mouth.

Still, I don’t back down.

When I don’t answer the question, her voice goes up an octave and her eyes narrow. “What. Is. That?”

“Nothing, Mom,” I mutter. I shift my gaze to my partially finished canvas and realize the chaotic world I’ve painted is swirling all around me in real life, trying to suck me in. I’m tired of being sucked into bullshit though.

This time, no matter what, I’m going to hover above it.

It’s time to be like a dragonfly.

“Nothing? You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know where those hickeys came from?” The disgust in her voice slices through me and I want to double over. I’m not ashamed of how the bruises got on my neck though. Every time I think about them, I get tingly all over.

I hate she’s disgusted by something that makes me feel whole. I hate she doesn’t get how monumental it is for me to finally be happy. How has she missed the loneliness that clings to me like a second skin? How has she overlooked the way my paintings cry out?

A burst of heat climbs up my neck and covers my face. Mom doesn’t know me and she never has. She doesn’t care who I am. She just wants to project her life on to me.

“Sage, you haven’t been seeing your brother, have you?” The word brother is barbed and it pierces the armor I’ve cloaked myself in. Tears prick my eyes and I want to scream. I want to shout at Mom that she doesn’t know anything, and she damn sure doesn’t know how I feel about Mars.

“I told you, I was out with a friend last night.” I try to hold the lie up by making my voice strong, but it wobbles a bit and Mom goes in for the kill.

“You’re lying through your teeth and I’m disgusted. I told you Mars is your brother and you still insist on seeing him. What kind of child have I raised?” Her hand flies to her heart as if I’ve ripped it from her chest just by existing…just by loving.

My heart slams against my chest with each beat. My mouth fills with words. They’re like hot coals burning my tongue and the roof of my mouth. If I don’t spit them out, I’ll turn to ash at my mother’s feet.

“You’ve raised a child who doesn’t care what anyone else thinks anymore.” I let the tears fall now. I can’t hold them back because they’ve gained too much momentum. “So what if I’m still seeing Mars? Why does it matter? Nobody else knows who he is.”

Mom gawks at me, horror etched on her face. “It’s illegal! You can’t be this dense. You can’t be with your brother. God, that must be Nathan’s trailer trash blood running through you to make you even consider such a thing.” She rolls her eyes and takes a step closer to me. We’re practically bumping chests at this point.