Loose Ends

My eyes adjusted as I stepped into a bright foyer. Everything was glaring white from floor tile to ceiling, and as I walked forward, a white desk appeared. I could hear the faint click of the keys on the white keyboard as a woman typed away behind a white computer, unaware of my approach. I stopped at the desk and cleared my throat. The woman’s eyes snapped up to meet mine in surprise. 

“Oh, hello,” she said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she smiled. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Hi?” I replied, looking around as I said, “Excuse me, but where am I?”

The secretary looked at me with sympathy before she spoke.

“Well, there really isn’t a great way to put this, so I’ll just give it to you straight, dear. You’re in purgatory.”

My body grew numb. Purgatory? I thought. 

“Purgatory?” I echoed aloud as I stared past the woman and through the space between us at nothing in particular. As I stood pondering the reality of the words, fragments of memory began to flash across my mind. Suddenly I was in the car, on my way home from school with my mother a week after I ran away.

— 

“We need to talk,” Mom said, hands gripping the steering wheel with a white knuckle intensity as she shot me a sideways glance. 

“I don’t know what to say,” I mumbled as I stared at the road with my arm crossed. 

Mom’s mouth set in a hard line as she somehow gripped the steering wheel tighter. 

“I tried playing nice, but I see that’s gotten me nowhere. This whole thing is ridiculous. Whatever this is about, you better get over it.”

“I’m just supposed to snap my fingers and be happy just like that? Do you not remember what the last thing was that you said to me? Sorry if I’m not quick to be chipper after that.” With a sigh I turned my head and looked out the passenger window. 

“What?” Mom snapped. “Is this about the basketball tryouts? Seriously, Harper, you need to grow up. I’m just trying to push you to try new things, to find something that you’re good at. There’s still time to—”

“Mom, stop,” I cut in, interrupting her as I glared at her. “This isn’t about some dumb basketball tryouts, or trying new things. You know good and well that’s not what set you off. Why I ran away. Why you can’t even look at me the same anymore.” 

Mom paused for a long time. With a sigh she shifted her death grip on the wheel and kept staring forward.

“You don’t love her,” she finally said. “You’re sixteen. You don’t even know what love is.”

“How do you know how I feel?” I snapped. “You were all for me being with Grant. Ever since I was eight. Now according to you I don’t know what love is because I didn’t choose him.”

“Grant is a nice boy,” Mom cut in. “That “girlfriend” of yours is nothing but trouble.” She held up air quotes with her right hand as she said the word “girlfriend” with a tinge of disgust.

“Or is she not what you want for me?” I asked quietly without meeting her gaze. “Also, her name is Morgan. You know what? I don’t even know why I’m wasting my breath. You made it perfectly clear that you don’t support or accept me. The words “disgrace” and “disown” come to mind.”

“Because you don’t see what I see. You don’t understand how this affects everyone around you. Word gets around in this small town. What will your friends think at school? What will the family think? I’m just looking out for you—”

“For me?!” I yelled, eyes wild. “Because it sounds a lot like you’re just looking out for you!”

“Harper, don’t use that tone with me,” Mom warned. 

“Or what?” I snapped back. “You’ll disown me? You’ve already made it clear that you have.” Tears stung my eyes as I stared at the side of my mother’s tense face, watching the tightened jaw muscles clench and unclench. 

“I just think it would be a mistake…” Mom said quietly. 

“Then it’ll be mine to make,” I replied. “It’s not like things worked out well for you and Dad,” I scoffed. “But you didn’t listen to me when—”

“Don’t you dare talk about your father to me,” Mom hissed, voice cold. “You have no idea what I went through—!”

A loud horn blared over her screaming voice. We both turned to see a car barreling toward us from our left. There was a loud sound and a great impact as the car spun out of control and rolled. Everything faded to darkness before me.

— 

“I’m sorry, did you hear me?” the secretary said, the sound of her voice muffled at first before the ringing in my ears ceased.

“What?” I asked, confused. 

“I said that she’s waiting for you in Room 303. Down the hall on the right.”

I stared past her down the hall that seemed to stretch on for infinity. As I willed my feet forward, footsteps echoing on the tile as I walked, I passed a series of open doors on either side. 

I saw Grant smiling up at me, waving for me to sit in the seat he saved for me in the cafeteria. 

I saw Morgan, who I met in Biology class, stealing glances in the dim projector light in the dark classroom. 

I saw my mother, staring at me in silent shock after I told her that I met someone at school. Heard her hysteric screams about being looked down on, about not having grandkids and asking me if I really wanted to do this to our family. 

I saw the intervention that my mother secretly put together behind my back, and all my family members looking at me with silent disdain as my mother told me why they were there.

I saw Morgan standing in the doorway, taking in a disheveled and sobbing version of myself with a backpack flung over my shoulder as I begged to hide out for a couple days after I ran away from home. 

I saw her holding me as I cried, eyes glistening as I told her what happened. 

I saw our first kiss. I heard my phone going off nonstop in my pocket, the endless angry voicemails from my mother, including the one where she told me to not bother with coming home until I got my head screwed back on right and I was ready to apologize. 

And now I was standing in front of a closed door. Room 303. With a shaky breath I opened the door. 

I stepped into the light of the sun. There were people milling around and the sound of school bells were going off. A familiar car was idling on the curb out front. I walked around to the passenger side and got in. 

“Mom,” I said without lifting my gaze.

“Harper,” Mom replied. I could feel her piercing eyes on me as we sat in silence. She spoke first.

“I guess you’re all caught up. On where we are, I mean.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I guess I am. I still don’t believe it. But why this place? The car? That day?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Mom said, gripping the steering wheel tight. “But I’m starting to get the idea that I’m reliving this day for a reason.” With a gulp, she met my gaze, and to my surprise she was holding back tears. 

“I walked down that long white hall, and I saw all of these old memories. And I heard everything I said to you, everything I—” she stopped. Her tears were falling freely now.

“I was horrified, Harper,” Mom choked, remorse written all over her face. “I was scared…I didn’t understand…and when I reached the door of this room, I saw myself holding you in my arms the day you were born...taking you to the park and to school when you were a kid…when you were my little mini me, my best friend. And then I saw the look on your face when I said those horrible things to you. And then I saw the crash.” She paused, taking a few short and shaky breaths, eyes averted as she studied her hands. 

“You don’t have to say anything, Harper. But I wanted…no, I needed…to tell you that I’m so sorry. It shouldn’t have ended like this.” 

I stared in disbelief as I watched my mother apologize for the first time in my entire life. Tears welled up in my eyes as we sat in silence. 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” I replied. “About Dad. I’m sorry”

“Oh, sweetie, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Mom quickly cut in. “I should have accepted you for who you are. My daughter. My world. If I were you I wouldn’t forgive me, either.”

With a smile, Mom cupped my face in her hand and brushed a tear from my cheek. She laughed softly. 

“I see you now, Harper. And I love you. My only regret now is that you had your whole life ahead of you. And now look where you are…because of me.” Mom cupped my cheek tighter and began to sob and shake her head.

“Mom, stop,” I said, gripping her hands tightly in mine. I met her gaze with a tearful smile. “That’s all I ever wanted. For you to see me. And I love you too.” The tears spilled over as I let out a sob of my own. 

We held each other for a long time while we cried. As we pulled away from each other we blinked rapidly, squinting our eyes against the sudden blinding light coming from the white door leading back to the white hall outside. Mom and I exchanged glances and nodded without a word. 

We both got out of the car. Mom held out her hand and I took it. With a smile, she led me towards the door, and we passed through to the other side, vanishing into the light as we passed on, beyond loose ends, unspoken words, and trivial things.