Leaving

The sky had turned pink as the sun rose ever so slightly above the horizon. There was a chill in the air; Darren was glad to have thought to put on his black hoodie. He carried another cardboard box carefully out the front door. He left the door open, to avoid the creak that the hinges always made when it opened or closed. Darren was sneaking out.

Almost all of his stuff was crammed into his rusty, blue Ford Taurus station wagon. He had filled up the back already, and most of the back seat too. He checked the time on his watch. 

“Damn,” he said, “gotta hurry.”

And he did hurry. He hurried past the step on the front porch and his foot landed hard on the sidewalk. The box in his hands slipped as it jolted free. It tumbled down onto the ground, making a terrible racket. Time stopped. Darren winced at the sound. Something shattered, but he didn’t care about what broke. He almost certainly had just woken up his parents.

He didn’t bother being quiet anymore — it was too late for that. He picked up the box and ran it to the car. He shoved it into the back seat and slammed the door. That was the last box. All he had to do was get his backpack and he’d be free.

He was smiling as he turned back to the house to grab his bag. He had been dreaming of this day for months — years, actually. And now it was here. He was packed, he was prepared. The note was on the table. He just had to hurry up and get his bag before —

His mom was standing in the doorway, the note was in her hand. “Why?” she asked, though she didn’t sound curious. She sounded disappointed.

“Mom,” he began, but faltered. He stood dead in his tracks, finding it very difficult to look her in the eyes. “I have to.”

She crossed her arms. “A note?” a tear was welling up in her eye. “You were just going to leave a note and run away? How did you expect me to take that?”

Darren looked down at his sneakers. He shuffled awkwardly. “I didn’t really think about that,” he admitted, “I just knew I needed to leave. I thought — I thought this would be easier. No goodbye, you know?”

“Yes, I’m sure breaking your mother’s heart would seem easier,” she spat. She drew her robe closer around herself, bracing against the chilly breeze.

“Mom, it’s not about that,” Darren stammered. “It’s not that I want to hurt you. I just have to leave. I need this,” he added.

“And I need you. I need you here.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s my life, mom.” Darren straightened out his back, trying to stand up big and tall as though he was warding off a mountain lion.

“You said you were going to stay. You said you were going to keep working to help out.” A tear streaked down her face. “Your family needs you, Darren.”

“I need to start my own life, mom. I have to. I can send money sometimes, you know. I’ll get a job.”

“You have a job. And you were going to take classes at the community college. I know it’s not what all your friends are doing, but family is important.”

“I’ll send money, mom. I promise,” he pleaded. “It might not be as much, but I’ll send you money every week.”

“It’s not just about the money, Darren. I need you.”

Darren took a step forward, towards his mother. The pink clouds above the two-story suburban home were lifting. The sky was a happy, pale blue that perfectly clashed with the scene that unfolded beneath it. He wished it were raining, gloomy, maybe a thunderstorm just on the horizon.

“Just let me get my backpack,” he said as he started walking towards the house. “I need to go.”

“No.”

“Just step out of the way, mom.”

“I’m not moving, Darren.” She planted her feet squarely between her son and the door. “I can’t let you leave.”

“I have to, mom.” Darren’s strength was faltering. His face was blank, stoic, as he walked towards his mother. “Just let me get my bag.”

“What are you going to do, Darren? Are you going to shove me out of the way? Are you going to knock down your poor old mother?”

“What? Jesus, no! Just let me get my backpack.”

“You have to stay. We need you here. Your father and I need you to help around the house. You know he lost his job. We need your help. He needs your help.”

“I don’t need to help him with anything.” His stoicism broke, revealing the red face of his anger and frustration. “Get out of the way mom,” he said. He was on the porch now in front of her. They were standing face-to-face. All she had to do was move just an inch, and Darren could have his backpack. He was so close to being free.

“I won’t let you leave,” she said, “I won’t let you abandon your family.”

“So, what? I’m just supposed to abandon my life? My dreams? Is that what you want me to do?” Darren was shaking as he spoke, his voice rising almost to the point of yelling. “I’m just supposed to stay home and work a shitty retail job? Forever?”

“I thought we raised you better than this, Darren, I really did.” She kept her voice quiet, but she could not hide the waver under her words. She was trying not to cry.

“You raised me to know that I’m my own person. You taught me that I have my own thoughts, my own needs. And now you’re telling me to ignore that!?”

“I’m telling you to wait. I’m telling you to put your family ahead of yourself for once — at least for a semester for your father to get back on his feet.”

“He’s never going to get better, mom. He’s been lying around drunk for two years!”

“Your father is having a hard time, but he will get better.” She was pleading, desperately pleading. “Just, please, stay for another semester. Just one more.”

“That’s what you said last year, Mom. What do you want me to do? Stay here waiting for you to die? Is that when I can start my life?”

His mother was crying now, she couldn’t hold it back any longer. She sobbed. The tears broke through the damn and flooded down her cheeks. “I need your help, sweetie. I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair, but I just need you here.”

Darren pulled his mother into his arms. He cradled her head between his shoulder and the side of his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was hollow as he tried desperately to maintain some semblance of composure. “I know you need me here, Mom. I’ll stay.” He sighed deeply, kicking himself for what he was saying, for what he was thinking. “Maybe next year I can go to college.”

His mother sobbed harder. His black hoodie was already getting damp with her heavy, relentless tears. “I’m getting snot on you,” she said reproachfully.

“It’s ok, I know how to do laundry.” He held his mother close as the morning sun creeped out above the rooftops in their neighborhood. He told her everything would be ok, and that he wouldn’t be leaving after all. He regretted every word as soon as it slipped from his mouth.

“Betty!” a gruff voice called, slurring, from somewhere inside the house. “Betty where are you? I need something to eat!”

She pulled herself out of Darren’s embrace. Wiping her face on the sleeve of her robe, she called back. “I’ll be right in, Bob! Just getting the mail.”

Her head hung low as she stepped into the foyer and bent down to grab Darren’s backpack.

Darren started towards the door to come inside the house and get on with life, but his mother held up a hand to stop him.

She gave him the backpack. With a weak smile she said, “have a good time at school, sweetie.”

“But — mom,” he stammered out, confused. “Don’t you need me to stay? And help?” As resolute as he had been about leaving that morning, he was just as hesitant to turn his back on her now.

“Go and live you life. I’m sorry.” She could barely see her son through the wall of tears that hid her eyes. “Call me anytime, sweetie.” Her voice was breaking.

“Are you going to be ok?” Darren asked through the softball sized lump in his throat. He slung his backpack across his shoulder, ready to leave and yet he was rooted in place.

His mother just mouthed, “I love you.” She gave him a gentle push towards the rusty blue station wagon in the driveway.

Darren nodded weakly as he turned and walked away. “I love you too,” he said so quietly that he could only hope that she had heard him.

She heard him.

The engine turned over and Darren backed his car out of the driveway. With a weak wave, he drove off.

Betty watched as her son’s car began to fade away down the street, trying to get herself to stop crying.

Floorboards creaked as Bob shuffled up behind her in his stained flannel pajamas. “Where’s that worthless kid off to so early?”

Betty sniffled back her tears. She quickly folded up Darren’s note and slipped it into her pocket. “I sent him out for some milk,” she said.