There Are Alternative Options

TW for discussion of child abuse

“Bring some food back for me, will you? Working at the bakery is nice and all, but I need some real food that isn’t 90% butter.”

Cecelia’s train was supposed to take off at 4:30 am, and they had a moment to spare before the train arrived.

“The only good thing about the food at home is that it’s cheap. I don’t think it's anything worth worrying over.” Cecelia said, wincing slightly.

“True,” Hecate said. “Still, it’d be nice to get a taste of home. Something to look forward to while you’re gone.” 

They both flopped onto the plastic benches.

“How do you feel?” Hecate said softly.

“Ugh, I don’t know…” Cecelia sighed. “I kinda got used to staying here and being with you. I mean, I love my mom, I love my old house and my dog and all that. It’s just weird, you know?” She laughed, and suddenly she sounded very sad. “Every time I leave for a while, I feel like I can-I don’t know- breathe? And I don’t even realize until I’m back.”

Hecate nodded. Cecelia curled up into a little ball and rested her head on her knees, looking anywhere but at Hecate. She took a deep breath.

“I don’t think I want to go home.” She said, almost too quietly to hear. Then, she laughed. “Picked a pretty bad time to realize it.” She gestured towards the train tracks.

“You don’t have to go.” Hecate said gently, and Cecelia nodded in a way that said she didn’t believe her.

“You know what’s really fucked up?” Cecelia said.

“What?” Hecate replied. They were huddled together on the bench now, surrounded by suitcases. 

“I used to wish that she-” A sharp intake of breath- If Cecelia’s face wasn’t hidden, Hecate might have said it was a sob- “I used to wish that she would just hit me. Properly- not just a slap on the wrist. Like, something that would leave a mark. Because then maybe, if she left marks, I could find a way to get out- I could get people to believe me.” She laughed wetly. “The most I ever got people to admit was that she was a bit of an asshole.”

Hecate’s heart broke a little. She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just put her arm around Cecelia’s shoulders trying to comfort her. 

“That’s so horrible, isn’t it?” She continued, the tears flowing freely now. “I’m awful. She wasn’t even that horrible most of the time. She loved me. She still loves me.”

“Cecelia-”

“I’m sorry. I promised I wouldn’t make it weird when I left.” Cecelia laughed again, sadly.

“Cecelia, she was awful to you. You don’t have to defend her.” Hecate said. She remembered how Cecelia would always find excuses to stay at school or Hecate’s house a little bit longer as kids, getting antsy as their time together came to an end. She remembered seeing her come into homeroom twenty minutes late, eyes puffy from crying when no one else noticed. She remembered Cecelia showing up on her front door at thirteen, looking completely hollow. She barely spoke at all that night. “I’m sorry,” she had said. “I have nowhere else to go.” She stared blankly at the coffee table for a few minutes while Hecate got her a cup of tea and a blanket. Hecate didn’t ask any questions, just told her she could stay as long as she needed and turned the TV on. After an hour’s worth of Friends reruns, Cecelia finally broke down and told Hecate she’d been kicked out. She remembered the resignation with which Cecelia said she had to go home, a week later. 

“She’s my mother!” Cecelia tensed in her arms, voice cracking. “And it’s not her fault anyway.” Her mother had a rough life, growing up during the revolution. It wasn’t an active warzone or anything, but at the time, no one could truly be ‘indifferent’ to what was happening. Even the best days carried tension and trauma, and those carried with her even after emigrating. 

“That doesn’t excuse anything!” Hecate said passionately. She drew back and looked Cecelia in the eye. “You don’t have to go back to her. She’s made you miserable your whole life. You’re 18 now, she doesn't have power over you anymore!” Cecelia was staring determinedly at her sneakers.

“I can’t just leave!” Cecelia said, voice rising. “No matter how much I want to sometimes.” “You can, though.” Hecate said. “There's always more options. You could live with another family member or get your own apartment far, far away from her. Or you could live with me again.” She smiled. “I’ve missed seeing your stupid face every day.

“If you’re worried about money, you could always work at the bakery! We’re hiring right now. Between royalties from my book and the bakery, we could share an apartment and get some roommates and still have enough time for you to go to school.”

“That would be nice…” Cecelia said, but she didn’t sound fully convinced.

“Look,” Hecate said gently. “I’m not gonna force you. But just know it’s an option. Hey, look at me.”

Cecelia looked.

“You deserve to be happy. No matter what your mom or family or whoever thinks. And I’ll always be there for you if you need me.”

Suddenly, a pleasant chime rang out and the train came thundering into the terminal. Cecelia flinched and her head snapped towards the train. The doors opened and suddenly the station was flooded with busy-looking people, drowning out whatever the two of them were about to say.

And, just as suddenly, it was as if she was there. In her mind's eye, Cecelia saw her mother, smiling at them, sickeningly sweet. She grew impossibly more tense. Her shaking hands reached towards her suitcases as she stood, almost as if by instinct.

“Cecelia-” Hecate shouted, but it was too loud to hear properly. “You don't have to go!”

“I can’t- I can’t-” she was mouthing, but she had stopped. Instead of looking at the train, she was looking at Hecate. You deserve to be happy, she had said. Was she going to leave her family behind for something as impossible as her own happiness? Family was supposed to be  everything. Family was supposed to care for you and love you, no matter what.

But her mom didn’t really do all that, did she?

Cecelia clutched her bags, turning to look at the train, the thought of her mother clear in her mind…

There was a chime and the doors started to close.

She let the train pass.

“She’s going to kill me, you know.” Cecelia said. The people were filtering out now.

“She won’t get the chance.” Said Hecate, still holding Cecelia’s hand.