My boyfriend and I were on a trip to visit my family who lived at least 9 hours away, but we had driven through the night and arrived in early morning. 100 miles from our destination, we stopped to fill up on gas. I offered to do it while my boyfriend went to the bathroom. In the haze of a sleep stupor, at least that’s what I say it was, I filled the car with diesel. Thankfully, I told him before he turned the car on. Much to their disapproval at such a horrible hour, we called several local friends to ask for advice. Not many of them were any help, especially those that hung up. Anyway, we eventually called my mother and told her our dilemma. She told us to drive a tow truck to her home and we could figure it out there.
Earlier the air was chilled and the sun’s morning rays were muted, but they had broken free from the menacing clouds and now poured hot light onto my shoulders. This was not how things were meant to turn out. I should have asked before putting diesel in the car. I should have at least waited until past 5am. What’s done is done. Don’t worry. You’re here now and things are being figured out. I was standing at a local dealership/mechanic with my boyfriend talking things through with the mechanic. After they gave us the rundown of what could happen or might happen, we waited patiently for my mother to arrive to pick us up.
“Stop beating yourself up, Pamela. Nothing can be done to change it now. We’ll just wait and see what happens.” My boyfriend, Stan, was trying so hard to love me and encourage me despite the fact that he himself was struggling to believe that the car would be okay.
“Okay. I’ll try. I’m sorry again.” I said for the hundredth time that morning.
“It’s okay. I forgive you, okay?”
I tried to hold my head high and move on. “Okay.” Both of busied ourselves with other things. There wasn’t much for me to do, but I found the sky quite pleasant to view. Before we knew it, my mother appeared in her car. We breathed a sigh of relief almost instantaneously.
There were hugs all around and then explanation of what had happened and what the mechanic thought he could do to fix it. I’m not quite sure why, but at this point, my boyfriend was off doing something else. I was left alone to talk to my mother. We had never really maintained a great relationship. I was never accepted as well as my other siblings. Some attribute that to my stubbornness and strong-willed mind. This trip, I had hoped, would be a much better encounter with her.
“So…” My mother began a conversation, but was clearly uninterested. I fought away my fatigue and annoyance as I tried to listen to her. She droned on for a bit and I honestly don’t recall what was said.
“What are you plans?” She asked out of the blue. I woke up. I knew I would need to explain to her that I was likely not going to to live in the United States anymore. She’s going to hate me. She’s going to be hurt and act as if the world is ending.
“Mom,” I cleared my throat, “if I marry him, I’ll be moving to Canada with him.” I was pretty sure that I had already mentioned it at least once.
A hurt expression filled her face. “Oh, you didn’t tell me this.”
Ugh! Why does she even care? Our relationship has never been that great. I’ve been moved out since I was 18 and lived in different states and countries for years. Why does she care now?
“It’ll be okay. I can call you, email you and write you.” I hide my aggravation and put on a smile.
She walks away silently and we don’t discuss it again.