blame it on the wanderlust

"Sophia, what the hell were you doing out there? Get it together, sweetheart, before I have to pull you out of the game. Go after the ball, and kick it in. It isn't fucking mathematics," her coach hissed at her, pulling her out of the team huddle for a moment. 

Her cheeks flushed a little as she focused her eyes downward at her grass-stained cleats. "Sorry, coach, it won't happen again," she apologized. If you're going places, you better get going. Life is going to pass you by, my little lamb, and cross the finish line before you do. You know better than to let that happen. Nana's words echoed in her head, gnawing at her conscience, but her eyes wandered to the sidelines where parents crowded on the stands to cheer on the players.

Right in the front was where the Lambert family would usually occupy during game days. Even though Sophia would roll her eyes any chance someone asked if her family would be going anywhere, she was used to always relying on at least one member coming to support her through her clumsy years of athleticism. Sometimes Jude. Sometimes Nana. Sometime her mother. Sometimes, all three. But for the past three months, her mother hadn't made an appearance. Today, there was no one...

After the game, she found a spot and sat alone. So far, her day was going miserably. 

"You coming to Wendy's, Sophia?" a girl on her team called out. 

Sophia, her back against a tree, managed to only shake her head. She had set her backpack and soccer bag next to her. 

"You sure?" the teammate asked again, looking only mildly concerned. 

Sophia cleared her throat a little, even though the knot in her throat would not go away. "My mom's coming," she replied, her voice cracking a little. 

The teammate finally shrugged and walked away, joining the other team members happily, even after a pretty bad loss. Sophia never really got it together, and she could expect her coach to give her even more of a rough time at practice next week. She hadn't even remembered why she thought joining soccer would make her happy. Jude always seemed to be in every activity possible, and in her struggle to compete against her brother, she tried out for the soccer team. 

She watched as families left. A toddler clinging onto his father's finger; a mother with two twin girls; a pair of grandparents. Her coach soon zoomed past carrying some equipment and bags. After fifteen minutes, everyone had left. 

She had told her mother to come pick her up at 7:45 PM, depending on how quick the game lasted. It was already eight. Sophia sighed, pulling out a book from her backpack. 

Her mom's minivan finally pulled up into the school parking lot at 8:19 PM. Sophia had already read 45 pages of the novel she checked out from the library. The book hadn't even been good. Her mother walked over to her. "Sorry, I went grocery shopping," was what her mother greeted her with, grabbing Sophia's soccer bag quickly and shoving it in the back of the minivan. Sophia peered into the grocery bags in the back, frowning slightly. 

"It took you more than 30 minutes to buy a carton of eggs, a loaf of bread, yogurt, fruit snacks, and frozen peas?" Sophia asked, raising her eyebrows. 

Her mother only ignored her, soon getting back in the car, with Sophia in the passenger's seat. As Sophia's mother started to drive again, the radio filled the silence for a moment. Sophia learned to get used to the silence for the past three months. Sure, she and her mother had never been chatterboxes together, but they used to at least have some conversation with each other. It had been a thing that had happened. It wasn't fiction she made up in her head. It wasn't like she was thinking her father would come back into her life. Her father had left, but her mother was still here but not really, not in the way Sophia wanted her mother to be. 

"Aren't you going to ask me how the game went?" Sophia asked. 

Her mother switched the radio station to the national public radio. 

"Mom?" Sophia tried again.

"I'm listening to the news. We can talk about that later," 

Correction: We can talk about that never because I don't care enough about you anymore to ask you. 

Sophia looked away and out into her window instead, trying to tell herself to hold it together until she could go home. 

The news special finished and the station started to play some sort of jazz music instead for the time being. Sophia finally looked back towards her mother, tears forming in her eyes. She switched off the radio altogether, exhaling a deep breath out quickly. Don't cry, Sophia. Don't cry. Her mother acknowledged Sophia silently but didn't say anything in reaction. 

"Did you want a card?" 

"What?" her mother finally replied. 

"Did you want a congratulations card? Congratulations, Kristy Lambert, on your lesbian daughter. You must be so proud," 

This time, her mother was quiet. 

"If you really hate me so much, you could always auction me off you know? Sophia Pearl Lambert, lesbian former daughter of Kristy Lambert, starting bid at five thousand dollars. Going once, going twice, and sold to the pervy gentleman in the front registered as a sex offender." 

"Sophia--"

"You haven't had a decent conversation with me for three months, Mom. I don't know what you're trying to avoid by not talking to me. Like I'm suddenly going to gay up the conversations. Worried I'll start talking about, I don't know, strap-ons in a middle of a conversation about soccer. Do you seriously think that?" Sophia asked, no longer caring if the tears started to spill out of her eyes with each syllable she uttered. 

"Watch your tone, Sophia," 

"I gave you space. What more do you need? You know what I need? I need...I need you to give me a chance to be me. Talk to me. I haven't changed, you know? You treat the neighbors better than you treat me for Christ's sake." 

"Not right now, Sophia, we'll have this discussion later," 

"When?" Sophia yelled, feeling her heart was about to leave her chest smash into the windshield any moment. "Do you hate me?" she asked, her voice cracking, "You hate your dyke daughter, right? Is that it? I'm just so tired of this, Mom. I'm tired of fucking feeling like I'm already dead," She finished, trying to control the loudness of each sob. 

"Sophia," was all her mother said in reply as they pulled into the driveway. 

All Sophia could do was try to get out of the car as fast as she could and head to her room. Her room would always be her safe place in this world, the place where she could let her tears flood the room. 

Two hours or so had past before Sophia finally decided her stomach grumbles weren't worth it anymore. She headed downstairs to scour the kitchen for a suitable dinner.  

"Jude's staying over at a friend's house," 

Sophia jumped a little at the sound of her mother's voice. 

"I made pasta. It's on the table. It's with the alfredo sauce you like," 

Sophia hesitated a little before walking over to the table. On a plate her mother had set out, there was a thank you card. Sophia turned it over and it said: 

I don't deserve a congratulations card.This isn't enough, I know, but you deserve a thank you card. Thank you for being so patient with me. Sophia, my darling, I'm sorry. I love you still, and I never meant to hurt you so much. I'm not going to lie to say this was all unintentional, but I still hope you can forgive me. I've been dumb. I've been stupid. I'm sorry. I really am. Love, Mom. 

"So how was the soccer game?"