Page 121 of Sombra
My dad commented, “Well, we all do stupid things when we’re young.” Then they proceeded to give both me and Shane a hug and walk us to the car.
I could tell my mother was dying to find out why I’m home early, but my dad gave her a look and she didn’t say anything.Shane answered their easy questions while we went to the restaurant. I ignored everyone and looked at the dull, almost-wintry landscape.
Now, as I slide around on the vinyl booth in the restaurant, waiting for everyone else to arrive, the words, “cute,” “stupid,” and “young,” bang around my head.
My parents have never disapproved of me before. I traveled to the other side of theworld for a new experience, but I’m getting one here.
Before I went to Spain, absolutely everything I did had the parental stamp of approval—or at least approval of someone else. Now, I’ve relied on my own judgment, and everything’s a mess.
And I miss Tavo.
My stomach twists and turns, because they’re judging me for coloring outside the lines. Before, I always colored withinthe thick black lines of a printed coloring book. I’d concentrate on making it look as good on the outside as I could, and hold it up to get a gold star.
But what’s to stop me from going off the page now?
I already have. Even though I’m sitting in Applebee’s with my parents, I’m hurtling down a hill in a wagon with no brakes. I can’t see the bottom. No one can stop me but me, andI don’t know how to do that.
Turning the page of the menu, waiting for Shane’s parents to get here, I realize …
I don’t like anything on this menu.
And,I can walk out of here.
My heart wakes up and thumps in my ear. Holy fuck, I can walk out of here. Idon’t have to stay in this god-awful restaurant to please anyone.
So I guess I did learn something in Spain—tothink for myself.
But before I make a move to call an Uber, I take a second look around. People I love are here—my mom and dad, Shane, and his parents, who just arrived. And I’m here forthem, not for the food. I’m putting their needs before mine, but I’m doing it voluntarily and with love.
And that is the difference.
I’m in charge of me, and I have the ultimate freedom tochoose going back and coloring within the lines if I want. Or making my own drawing.
I’m so free I can choose bondage, and not just physical restraint (don’t want my thoughts to go there, not thinking of Tavo), I can choose the bondage of my mind.
If I wanted, I could go back to the way I lived in Iowa before. But this time it would be my choice.
I sit in this boring restaurant,trying to reconcile the different parts of me. The one who now colors outside the lines, with the one that doesn’t want to be an asshole. The one who seeks her own counsel with the one who wants to love others and be loved.
And I know as I sit here that I miss Spain and part of me is missing now that I’m here.
But I have a job to do.
I bet the olive oil here is crap.
After we order, Shane’s mom speaks up. “Kim. It’s so good to see you! I want to hear all about Spain. I’m so glad you’re back. It’s too bad that you and Shane aren’t getting married, but it’s good that you’re waiting until you get a little older.”
I guess this is the story Shane told his parents. I narrow my eyes at him. He pleads with me silently not to say anything.
Sighing, I knowit’s his secret, not mine. And if he doesn’t want to spill it right this second, that’s fine. But I’m here to push him along, as we discussed.
Because there’s freedom in living your truth.
Just then, Randy walks in, The first thing he says when he gets to the table is, “Holy crap, Kim. What happened to your hair?”
I stand and give him a hug. “Does everyone say this?”
“I’m going to call you Rainbow Dash instead of Yoko.” Randy tugs on a strand. “It suits you.”
