《Perfect Strangers》16| Trauma

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It was about ten pm and I was lying in bed, scrolling through Netflix on my laptop, looking for something to watch. I was a little worried when I dropped Alex home earlier because I could hear them arguing from her front door. It's a rich neighborhood and all the houses are huge.

That only worried me more because that must have meant they were arguing pretty loud.

My phone rang on my nightstand and I glanced over, answering immediately when her name flashed on my screen. "Hello?" I asked.

"Are you home?" she asked, sniffling a little.

I sat up while closing my laptop, already on my way downstairs. "Yeah, I'm home," I answered, "Come over."

She doesn't have to ask, she can come over whenever she wants.

"Thanks," she said before hanging up.

I opened the front door and waited outside while she walked, staring down at her feet. I waited till she made it over to me before saying anything. "Are you okay, Alex?" I asked hesitantly.

It's not always the smartest question.

"Yeah, I just um- I uh-"

"It's all right. Come on," I nodded.

"Maybe I should just-"

"Come on," I didn't let her finish as I placed my hands on her shoulders and pushed her towards and into my house with me right behind her. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked as we entered my kitchen and I handed her a water bottle.

"I don't know," she groaned, resting her arms on the table and her head on her arms.

"Take your time," I replied.

"I just don't know how to deal with it anymore," she let out an exhausted sigh while sitting up. "It's been happening my whole freaking life and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of hearing them arguing non-stop. It's like I'm replaying the same moment over and over again and I have to live through it each time.

It caused so much trauma as a kid and when I'm up in my room trying to block it all out, I still feel like that six-year-old girl whose parents are arguing downstairs in the kitchen," she paused, "I just can't put up with it anymore. It's every damn day, it's just too much. She needs to leave.

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They're divorced, it doesn't make sense for her to stay. Just because she can't get a place? That's not our problem then. She doesn't even come out of that freaking studio she's made. I've had one parent my whole life and that has been my dad. Even at the times where I needed a mother. I've had one parent, and one woman living off of my dad. It's just annoying," she rambled.

"Tell her."

She looked up at me, "You don't think we have?"

"No, Alex. You tell her. Straight up. Tell her to leave. You're her daughter, she'll listen," I nodded.

"I'm her daughter, that's why I can't do it. She's still my mom, you know? However, she is. Every time I think of telling her, I start thinking about how quiet the house would be. How there would be no paint stains around the place, no brushes lying around. It'll be like she was never there," she groaned into her palms.

"Yeah, but maybe if she leaves, she'll realize that she does have a daughter," I said while walking over, pulling her hands away from her face, "Who is worth more than paints and a canvas."

She stared at me while slowly shaking her head. "What if she just leaves and- she never looks back?"

That could happen, there's no doubt it could.

"I don't know, I'm sorry. I don't think she would do that. You're her daughter. Somewhere she has a soft spot for you. Every mother does. I think," I mumbled the last bit.

She chuckled while holding her head in her hands. "How do things get so bad for people in love? One moment they're together, they're so in love, then they get married, they're still in love. Then they had me, and it's all going downhill and I plummet to my doom, taking them with me," she scoffed.

"They took you down with them. You didn't do anything. You couldn't have. You didn't, okay?"

"It's so unfair. She doesn't even care anymore," she groaned, throwing her head down onto the counter again restlessly.

I just stood there and watched. Sometimes silence just helps. I didn't do anything because it took a minute for me to realize that she was crying. Not just sniffling, not just tearing up, she was crying. I stared down at the ground, not knowing what to do.

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I'm not very good at this. I usually ignore my emotions until they disappear. Or I just bottle them up. Which isn't good for anyone.

"Oh my God, why am I here? I'm sorry for bothering you, I'll see you tomorrow," she exhaled while wiping her cheeks dry and standing up, heading to my door.

"Alex, what are you doing?" I huffed while grabbing her wrist and spinning her around to face me.

"I'm going back home," she sniffed.

"No, you're not. You can stay. You're not bothering me. At all."

"But-"

"You're not. You can take one of the guest rooms. And my bedroom is always an option, of course," I smirked, just trying to get her to crack a smile.

She laughed while wiping her eyes. "I think I'll take the guest room tonight, thanks," she said while grabbing the water bottle from the counter.

"I give really good piggyback rides if you want one to the room," I offered.

She pulled herself up on the counter and stuck her arms out. I laughed while turning my back to her and standing between her legs which she wrapped around me while her arms went over my shoulders. I gripped her legs, wrapping my arms around them before taking her upstairs, turning the kitchen light off on the way.

"Wow, you are good at piggyback rides," she said while I turned the hallway to the guest rooms.

"See," I smirked. She rested her cheek on my shoulder while I opened the door and flicked the lights on. "Here's your room, there's an extra toothbrush in the cabinet in the bathroom with some toothpaste, everything works just fine, my room is down the hall to the left, come get me if you need anything. I mean anything. Just holler," I explained while setting her down on the bed.

"Thank you. Seriously, I don't know what I'd do without you," she chuckled, setting the water bottle on the nightstand.

"You'd be just fine, I'm sure. Night," I smiled.

"Night."

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

I waited outside while she went in to get dressed and grab her things for school. She came back out moments later in a red sweater with jeans, her hair in what she says are double dutch braids.

I don't see the difference. Oh, wait, yeah. They are different.

"Do you always do double dutch braids- is that what they're called?" She nodded while laughing. "Do you always do them while wearing red?" I questioned.

"Should I not?" she asked.

"No, your hair looks nice like that."

"Scientifically, wearing red increases confidence and provides courage. I try wearing red when I don't feel like that. It's supposed to help but I don't know," she shrugged.

"Why? You're so confident as it is," I stated.

"No way," she laughed as we entered the cafe, "Absolutely not."

"Yeah you are," I said.

She ordered and paid for both of us. "You've bought me enough tea, I can buy you some coffee," she said as we sat down at her table.

"You are confident though. I don't get it," I thought out loud.

"You think I'm confident because I'm open with you. I wasn't when we first met, was I?" she asked.

"Who is confident while talking to a stranger?" I questioned.

"You were. You were really confident," she laughed while Katy brought us our coffee.

"Enjoy the breakfast date," she sang, "Making the girl pay, Carter?" she asked before sauntering away without my answer.

I smirked at Alex, which caused her to roll her eyes before sipping her tea. "I wouldn't make a girl pay, just so you know," I teased.

"Why? A girl can pay," she frowned.

"A girl can pay, of course, she can," I nodded, "But she shouldn't have to. Sure, it doesn't hurt once in a while if she does, like you just did. But she shouldn't have to," I shrugged.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"A gentleman wouldn't make a girl pay. Especially if it's out on a date or dinner. That's like your treat. Why make her pay?" I tilted my head to the side.

"So, if you took a girl out to dinner-"

"You. Let's just say," I smirked.

She rolled her eyes with a smile, "If you took me out to dinner, you'd pay?"

"One hundred percent."

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