Mother's Love
The red and yellow glow from the McDonald’s sign was reflecting off puddles in the drive-through. I pulled up to the window. A girl no older than 17 with green hair pulled into a low pony was working.
“Sweetie, isn't it a bit late for you to be working? Isn’t there the school in the morning?” I inquired as I passed the black credit card through the window. She looked up, surprised.
“Oh- uh I just try to get as many hours as I can I guess. Saving up for college,” she shyly explained while swiping my card.
“That's very admirable of you, working so hard for an education.” She passed the coffee through the window to me. I wrapped my manicured fingers around the paper cup.
“Thank you,” she answered looking down. A loud thunk emanated from the back of my car, and in response, she looked up worried.
“College really is worth it,” I quickly responded over the noise. “Some of the best years of my life.”
“Oh-um, good.” She responded craning to look at the backseat.
“Well thank you for the coffee! And good luck with college.” As she started to respond I rolled up the windows, cutting her off to the sounds of repeated thuds from the back of the Suburban. I pulled out of the driveway and flicked on the turn signal, pulling onto the road leading out of town. Sparse lights lit the road. Winding farther and farther away from the colleges and houses trading them for cornfields and tractors. I turned on the radio to NPR. As the hosts droned on I thought of the girl, so young with her life ahead. And while she may not be making the best choices, signaled by that ghastly green hair, she could still become a proper lady. College can change people like that. I knew better than anyone. While studying I had short hair, loud silver jewelry, and quite a bit of an attitude. I kept that up through three years of chemistry classes. Till Brent came along. My choppy layers were no match for his sparkling house and sweaters. So I changed. Changed band tees for polos. Changed brown hair to blond. I dropped out that year four carats heavier. His parents didn't believe that chemistry was a “ladylike” subject. Which it was, of course- they were correct. The wives in Brent's tax bracket didn't have to be heard, there was nothing they needed to say. So I stayed away and had kids. My once-needed knowledge of neutrons was traded for Connor and Sarah's soccer schedule, their prom theme, and their friends' names.
I shook my head. There was no use reminiscing now. I had to stay focused. I tapped my gel nails against the wheel as I pulled over next to a cornfield. I left the keys in the car with the headlights on. I would need to be able to see. Pulling down the visor I flipped open the mirror. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, plucking out a gray hair near the front, and steeled myself. I pushed myself out of the car, landing my Nikes on the pavement. I walked to the end of the car and pushed a button to open the trunk. There she was.
This was almost too much trouble for her considering all that noise she made in that drive-through, causing all of that racket, but now she was quiet. Laying in the fetal position in the trunk with duct tape on her wrists she looked like some bad horror movie plot point. Dried mascara had crusted on her cheeks, painting black tracks down from her eyes. Her skin had broken skin where the tires had gone over her. Her eyes looked up at me as tears ran freely down her face.
“Let's go,” I told her flatly, pulling out my sterling silver bowie knife. I pulled her arm up and out of the trunk and she stood up shakily next to me.
Connor really should have watched out. I thought as took her upper arm and led her. Shuffling back through the field, there was no anger in my mind, after all, everyone makes mistakes. There was just a bit of disbelief that he would have me clean up his messes. After all, I hadn't even been driving. I stumbled through the field, girl in tow, humming to myself, letting the coffee cool on the dashboard.
My name is Vera Berglund, and I’m a senior. I’ve avidly read since I was a kid and writing followed behind. I’ve always been very interested in words and their impact, so I decided to follow them. I like to mostly write about little moments that get overlooked and their simplicity.