Nine Hundred Miles

I sat cross legged on the bedroom floor staring at the map. I looked at the black dot and tiny print, my tongue tripping over the unfamiliar sounds. I traced my finger on the blue vein connecting the dot with my childhood home. I stretched my fingers from dot to dot, walking them along as I measured the distance.

Nine hundred miles.

I stared at the cities, their names bold against the network of highways. San Francisco, Los Angeles, Hollywood, San Diego, each name a memory from a movie. I closed my eyes and pictured the palm trees, the brilliant blue ocean, the endless blue skies. I could almost feel the warmth of the sun on my pale flesh.

Nine hundred miles.

I sighed and opened my eyes. Staring sightlessly out the window at the rain misting the river, I saw my future unfold. If I stayed, I would live at home until I married, moving from my father's house to my husband's.

My husband.

My friends at church had already paired up, the few boys my age promised to girls younger than I. There were always the larger church meetings, a chance to meet someone new. But I wouldn't be new.

I thought of Nanette.

Nanette, fun and witty, bright and laughing, growing old without hope of marriage.

Until Round Two.

I twisted my lips in a bitter smile. Although divorce was forbidden, somehow, someway, there was always a Round Two. It was the only hope of an aging spinster.

I frowned at the word. Spinster. Only in my archaic world was such a thing still possible. And only in my world would a seventeen year old girl recognize it.

I looked at the map again.

Nine hundred miles.

Nine hundred miles of possibilities. Nine hundred miles of chances. Nine hundred miles of reinvention. Nine hundred miles away from everyone and everything I knew.

I swallowed the fear that lumped in my throat.

Mom wanted me to be a medical transcriptionist, convinced that with additional classes, my Spanish skills would improve and I become bilingual. I sighed at the thought of hours of classes, forcing my mouth to make sounds that didn't come naturally.

I wanted to go to a university. I pictured the dorms I'd toured with my best friend, imagined her there, walking to classes, giggling in the halls, free. I guiltily shoved the thought away.

Nine hundred miles.

A University wasn't in the cards. It wasn't what good girls did in our church. The warnings rumbled from the podium - co-ed living arrangements, drinking, smoking, rape, psychology. Already, my parents had faced "helpful" advice from the elders. How could they think to allow their oldest daughter to leave on her own? To move nine hundred miles away?

I looked at the map one last time.

Which path to take?

I didn't really have a choice.

Not if I wanted a chance to live.

I folded my map and went downstairs to make the phone call.

At seventeen, I didn't really understand what those nine hundred miles would mean.

Now, I do.

This post was inspired by the Write on Edge RemembeRED prompt: write about a time when you knew something in your life had to change drastically.

I wish there was a way to block this post from my mom. I don't want her to get hurt feelings. We were in a different place back then. I know she and Dad would do a few things differently now.

In other words, take a chill pill, Maxine. It all worked out. I'm happy with my life.

And if you're wondering about Write on Edge, it's the new home of The Red Dress Club. Go check it out, friends.

I'm also over at Momtastic today talking about child labor laws.