from the woman you become

by Kayla Cain

MaMa thought you should take a fun train ride together halfway across the country to California and then return – by train. It was like a long car ride that went on for days with no stops for fresh air, or even breaks to sleep in a bed. You could get up and walk around, but had nowhere to go, only moving to different spots to sit, never able to lay flat, not even at night.

A constant smell of microwave pizza lingered from the convenience counter. On the third day, you craved bread. And tomato sauce. And melted cheese. MaMa packed a suitcase of snacks to save money, but days of granola bars and crackers made you want something warm.

Sometimes MaMa and you sat together, and sometimes you separated to look out the window or read alone. You took this trip as a pair, leaving Kelli at home for a little break.

About an hour ago, you stared out the large windows of the sightseer-car as the sun set, not a beautiful orange and pink sunset, more like everything dimming. Soon you wouldn’t even have a view anymore, only darkness.

You thought about Kelli back at the apartment, old enough she didn’t need you there. She wasn’t alone, though. She had her boyfriend, Jay, who lived with you. Neither of them had a job. He played video games all day, and you didn’t even know what Kelli did. She had nothing to show for the passing time.

When no more color remained outside the train window, you watched each tree pass and the mountains approach in shades of gray. You wished for a twinkling river, and realized Kelli almost never bathed anymore. When did that start? She wore her hair in a constant matted bun and thought body wipes did the job, but you had to clean her seat when she left the room. Her sour scent stayed. Brown fuzz grew on her teeth. You couldn’t decide if Kelli’s lack of hygiene resulted from drug-use, depression, or laziness. All concerning options.

The day before you left on this trip, Kelli pawned the TV from your bedroom while you worked. She didn’t even ask you, just said getting their car fixed was more important than you having a TV. You’d miss having that escape, but maybe you could pay a fee to get the TV back from the pawn shop when you returned, or maybe you’d saved enough to buy a cheap new one…

“Hello there,” MaMa said as she joined you in the sightseer-car. “It’s getting dark. Maybe we’ll have a nice view of the stars tonight since we’re so far away from any cities.”

“Maybe,” you said. “It’s pretty cloudy.”

“Yes, for now. It could clear up where we’re going, though.”

“Or it could follow us.”

MaMa leaned back and shrugged.

Then she asked, “Have you talked to your mom since we left?”

 “No, I haven’t talked to Kelli.”

“Well, you should soon. She’s probably wondering how you’re doing.”

You tried to keep looking outside, but it had gotten so dark, you could only see the reflection of yourself and MaMa in the window. She seemed quite old to you. You thought you looked like an adult, but you didn’t. You were younger than you felt. 

“I want to talk to you about your mom,” MaMa said. “You’re only 15, Katie. You need to show her more respect, like stop calling her Kelli.”

 The overhead lights automatically turned off then. Your reflections disappeared, and you could make out the black shapes of mountains outside.

“She has a lot of problems,” MaMa said. “She has her whole life. Things happened to her when she was very little, and it shocked her system, but she does the best she can.”

MaMa meant well, but she didn’t understand how troubled Kelli had gotten. You didn’t want to argue with her, so you said you’d do better and then moved to this car to sit alone.

That’s when I found you – when you needed an adult to understand you weren’t wrong. You were hungry and sleepy, and I whispered words of encouragement you’d never heard. Did you hear me? You weren’t wrong.

Photo of Kayla Cain

BIO: Kayla Cain teaches high school English and journalism in Central Texas. She has flash fiction published in Literally Stories and Four Tulips. Her passion is inspiring young people to read and write through example.