“Next stop, Central Station, the end of the road, as far as we go.” The robotic Siri-like voice announced.
She sighed, gathered the bags of belongings, and prepared to get off the bus. She didn’t want to get off. She wanted to stay on this bus all night long because so far, this bus had felt more like home than she’d ever felt in her own house.
Earlier that night, she and her mother argued for the umpteenth time in the past two days. It was over the correct way to put a trash bag in the kitchen garbage bin.
That past week, it was like something snapped in her mother’s brain – nothing she did was good for her mother – though nothing new, her mother was being proactive in showing it.
She washed and dried the dishes, minutes later, her mother would go and do it all again. She vacuumed the house, minutes after she cleaned and put the vacuum in the closet, her mother would take it out and do it all over again.
“What’s your problem?” She finally asked.
“There’s no problem. I just think you didn’t do good job.”
Her jaw went slack. “This is my house. You are living in my house, if you don’t like my way of doing things, move out.” It wasn’t like her mother didn’t have her own house. She’s got a house of her own, it’s just a matter of she wanting to move in.
Her mother laughed, “You know I’m not moving out.”
It was the same argument that night. “Stop correcting my actions.” She screamed as her mother re-positioned the trash bin minutes after she had done it. The thing that made her scream was the fact she caught her mother muttering, “can’t even replace a garbage bag correctly.”
After over an hour of back-and-forth and her mother declared the winner, she packed a few bags of necessary items and left. She got in her car, turned the key in the ignition but it wouldn’t start. “Damn it.” She said through clenched teeth before yanking the bags from the trunk and walking to the bus stop.
She couldn’t endure anymore. “I can’t. I won’t.” She muttered to herself as she stood at the bus terminal. It’s the end of the road for me.