Page 91 of Rebellious

I shake my head. “What do you mean? We’ll be together like we always have been.”

Frustrated, my mom exhales into the phone. “Bennett,” she says in a tone she uses when I’ve disappointed her. “Aspen is twenty-three.”

“Yeah, so?” And I’m twenty-one. It’s not like we’re kids.

“Twenty-three-year-olds are usually looking to marry and settle down, possibly have kids soon.”

My chest clenches. “Aspen doesn’t want to marry and have kids.” I scoff.

My mom hesitates. “Maybe not now, Bennett, but she will.”

The thought of someone marrying Aspen or having a baby with her sends a shot of fury within me. “What are you saying?”

Lowering her voice, my mother replies, “You’re either making a commitment or you’re only standing in her way, baby. You two can’t be just friends or roommates for the rest of your lives. Relationships don’t work that way.”

I open my mouth and then close it. What am I supposed to say to that? Is that really how Aspen feels? Is she looking for a husband?

“We have time,” I say, but it’s like I’m trying to convince myself.

I can tell my mom is treading lightly. “You do, but what I need you to understand is, eventually, you both need to create a future. You’re giving up your future to be with Aspen. And for what? To be her friend for a few more years?”

I’m quick to respond. “If I have to.”

“And if she meets someone in Boston? Are you going to step aside?”

I swallow.

“Are you going to have a life in Boston without her? In three or four years, will you look back on this decision and think it was worth it?”

“You don’t understand.” I’ve gone from firm in my conviction to defending my actions.

My mother chuckles. “If anyone understands leaving everything for the one you love, it’s me, Bennett. The difference, though, is I knew the future I wanted.”

And I don’t. Mine and Aspen’s future is still very much fucked.

“If you won’t give her children or claim her as anything other than the one you love, then you should reconsider what kind of life you’d have together.”

I almost argue that it doesn’t matter. We’d be together.

“You deserve more than this, Bennett.”

I scoff.

“You do, but you won’t let yourself have it.”

I feel my eyes narrowing, anger clouding my patience. “You know why we can’t. Why would you even suggest otherwise?”

Surely my mother, of all people, would understand why I can’t go after Aspen.

“Because you love her.”

I can’t do this anymore.

“I need to go,” I say, cutting off any further talks about the future.

The woman who has been my biggest supporter sniffles. “Love isn’t easy, but it always requires a sacrifice. The question is, how much longer can you bleed before you have nothing left to offer.”

“I gotta go.” My voice trembles. Whether it be from anger or frustration, I don’t know.

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