A Mother's Daughter

As Morgan drove off into the sunset, she had to tie her neck to the head rest to not look back. She would never return to who she was. She had eyes on her future. With everything behind her, nothing would --

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“The hell?”

She yanked the car over to the shoulder. She fumbled through pockets, ransacking her backpack to find the source of the disruption. She double-checked her memory of destroying her phone before she left. Once she dug to the bottom of the last pocket, she found a burner phone with a bow on it.

With a shaking voice, she answered, “Hello?”

“Sweetie, you found it!,” her mom replied. “George!” She turned to her husband. “She found it! How are you doing, honey?” She asked her daughter.

“Mom, how did you do this? Why did you do this? I could be tracked down. Mom, what the fuck?”

“First, I know you’re in a pretty stressful situation, but watch the language. Second, I bought the phone at Target. Third, because I’m your mother, and if I can’t see you anymore, then I thought it fair that I at least get to hear you.”

Morgan threw her head back and slumped in her seat. She bit the inside of her lip and clenched her fist to keep from crying. So much for never looking back. “Fine, but you can’t be calling me everyday.”

“Deal. I hate to possibly belittle what you’re going through, but this is kind of fun.” She snickered. “Like a movie.”

“Is that Morgan?” Her father’s voice cut in.

“Hi, Dad.” She let a tear fall.

“Honey, it is so nice to hear your voice. How are you doing? Staying out of trouble?”

“Getting away from trouble.”

“That’s my girl.” With this, she smiled and pushed on through her cracking voice.

“You can’t call me too much. Understand?”

“Aye aye, captain,” her troops confirmed.

After a quick flashback to her mom letting them have ice cream for dinner at her dad’s Friday night intramural baseball games, she said, “Goodbye.”

“For now,” they added and hung up.

She turned forward, facing the road. With both hands on the wheel, she breathed in and out and then merged back onto the highway.

***

With 300 miles behind her, she needed to fill her gas tank. She took the lockable bathrooms and midnight hours as her chance to make use of her dad’s clippers. With a full tank, she locked the car and beelined for the restroom. Clippers in one pocket, burner phone in the other. Blessed with a working power outlet and a noisy fan, Morgan buzzed right down the middle. 

She admired her newly discovered half-shaved head, petting the fresh cut. She readied herself for her next move.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Damn it,” she swore at the phone she never asked for (but kept around regardless). She itched around, jumping from pocket to pocket. The ringing seemed to grow louder. Nothing like a ringing phone to attract attention to a woman who’s already been in the bathroom for seven minutes.

Once she found the phone, she answered, “I told you not to call too much.”

“Hello to you too,” her mother scoffed.

“Hi, Mom,” Morgan sighed.

“What are you up to?” She asked as if bouncing around.

“Shaving my head.”

“But your hair is so beautiful! Morgan, you can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can, and I’ve already done half of it,” she started and checked herself out in the mirror, considering walking out with the half-shaved look. “Also, you can’t use my name anymore.”

“First, you’re getting rid of your hair and now your name. Honey, I think you might be taking this too far.”

“Seriously, Mom? I’m running away, starting a new life. I have to get rid of everything I used to be.”

“Everything?” Her mother questioned. “Even me?” Her voice quivered.

“Shit. Mom, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” Morgan paced the ten feet of the bathroom. “Mom, I’ll never forget you. I’ll always have you, and you’ll always have me. But things are gonna be different.” 

Hearing her mother sob and her father tell her she’ll be okay, Morgan closed her eyes. Otherwise, her reflection would’ve made her cry. She ran through her thoughts, sprinted back to two nights prior. With a stalker who wouldn’t quit and a police force that only bothered with speeding tickets, she made her own escape. Piled all her money, packed the car with food, filled the gas tank, and drove off.

She looked down at the heaps of hair collecting at her feet. It wasn’t the hundreds of miles behind her or the emergency fund that would only last her five months. Instead, it was hearing her mother cry that made her think she’d gone too far.

“Mom, I’m sorry.”

But it was the threats to her family, the vandalized garage door, and her self-imposed curfew that made her keep on. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.” She hung up the phone and picked up the clippers, exchanging one for the other.

Five minutes later she left that bathroom without a hair on the floor. She cleaned up well, just like her mother taught her. She got into the car and drove off.

The wind washing her head, her scalp breathing for the first time in twenty years. She stretched her hand out of the open window and let it fly, as if the wind was keeping it afloat.

She thought back to the family vacation to Mount Rushmore when she was in seventh grade. The presidents were alright. The weather was nice, and they got to eat ice cream. But the best part was the car ride. Life rushing past her before she could catch it. So much to see at once. Following her mother's example with her arm stretched out her window.

No offense to her father, but she was always her mother's daughter. No matter how far, she would never leave her behind.