"But, you think she's just trying to protect you," I finished, squeezing his thigh reassuringly. He nodded.
Mark cleared his throat. He was doing that guy thing where they pretend they weren't about to cry. "So, what about you," he croaked, voice thick with suppress emotion. He cleared his throat again. "What's your last name?"
"Sullivan," I answered, immediately. "I'm nineteen. I have two sisters. Shannon's my older sister and Missy's my younger sister."
"I definitely need to stop thinking of my sister as a kid since I'm dating someone the same age," Mark quipped.
"You're just a cradle robber," I joked back. "Seducing innocent young girls with your lecherous ways."
We stopped at a red light and Mark bent over and kissed me, "Guilty as charged," he whispered, kissing my cheek and nuzzling at my neck. The light turned green and a horn blared behind us. Mark grinned boyishly at me and continued driving.
"I work part-time at Starbucks. Or, at least I did," I flushed as I savored the memory of what we did this morning. "It was helping to pay for college, so I hope you step up your vacuum-cleaner salesmanship to keep me in the poor lifestyle I've become accustomed to."
"Money's not going to be a problem, Mare," he told me with confidence. That nickname, Mare, was starting to grow on me. I kinda wished I had one for him. Mark doesn't really shorten into anything. Except Mar. And that sounds silly. Maybe Ark? No. He's not a big boat with a bunch of animals on board. Stallion was a fantastic nickname for when we were fucking, but seemed a little too weird to use otherwise.
"So, where are you going to school?"
"I'm attending DeVry up in Federal Way," I answered, "working on a graphic design degree."
Mark smiled and nodded appreciatively. "I didn't know I was dating a talented artist. I would love to see your work."
I blushed. "I'm not that good," I said. People, mostly my dad and my sisters, said my art was amazing or beautiful. I, however, always saw my flaws and mistakes. "But, I'll show you, if you want."
He squeezed my hand on his thigh and brought it up to his lips, kissing my fingertips. "I do." He held onto my hand, driving with just his left. Mark turned right onto 512, the freeway towards South Hill and its mall. "You said you're mom wasn't that great of a person?" he asked, merging onto the freeway.
I hesitated. I didn't like talking about my mom. Mark squeeze my hand reassuringly. "You don't need to talk about it, if its to painful."
I breathed deeply. Mark was my soulmate. He deserved to know. "When I was six, my mom …" I broke off, wiping at the tears welling in my eyes. Even after so many years it was painful. My mom left a wound in my heart that opened every time I thought about her. "She left my dad. She was cheating on him and just ran off with this musician." I paused, fighting back sobs. How could that whore abandon us.
I regained my composure enough to continue. "Dad was a wonderful parent and did his best to raise me and my sisters. But mom's abandonment hurt him deeply. Hurt all of us, deeply. He didn't smile as much and had hard time dating women. I think he found it hard to trust after that. My mom didn't even tell anyone she was leaving, just packed a suitcase and left a note. Dad showed it to me when I was older. She wrote that she wasn't happy with her family. She wanted to have fun, go out partying. To enjoy wild sex. She wrote that my sisters and I were just holding her back with responsibility."
The tears were flowing now. It still hurt after all these years. What mother abandons her children so she could have fun. And never once in the last thirteen years had the whore ever as much as sent a birthday card. Dad said she didn't even contest the divorce. Just signed away her parental rights so she could whore around with that musician.
Of course, I'm just as much a whore. I cheated on Mike and then ditched him. Sobs wracked my body as I realized that I was my mother. How could this have happened? Oh God, how did I become her?
Mark's arms enveloped me, pulled me into his chest. His hands stroked my hair, gently. I was crying so hard that I didn't even notice him pulling over to the shoulder. He rocked me in his arms, and whispered, "Shh, it's okay. I'm not going to abandon you. Shh."
"That's...not..." I sobbed, trying to speak. I started to hiccup. "I'm … hic … my mother! I'm just as … hic … bad! I'm a … hic … a whore!"
"No you're not," Mark whispered, kissing my forehead. "You're an angel, not a whore. You and Mike were just dating. You didn't marry him. You guys didn't have any kids. You didn't abandon your family to go have fun." I nodded and hiccuped. My tears stopped and I sniffed loudly. I rubbed at my eyes, wiping tears away.
"And your dad never treated your mom badly, right?" Mark asked. "Never was an asshole to her, like Mike was to you?" Dad was always sweet to mom. They never even fought. I had thought they were in love. "No. Dad loved her. We were always catching them kissing."
"Did Mike ever love you," Mark asked. "Or did he just love sleeping with you?"
I thought about it. Mike was always at me for sex, but I had to badger him to take me out on dates or just to spend time with me. And I never felt half as intensely about Mike as I did for Mark. He was a candle compared to the bonfire of my love for Mark. I realized what Mike and I had was just teenage lust. Mark was right. I smiled in relief. Thank God, I wasn't my mother.