✧ One Way ✧

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Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like to truly have a normal childhood. Just an ordinary, boring, unremarkable existence. One where I knew who my mother was, and where my father didn't have to suffer and die from cancer. I would trade anything for that. I would trade every single book I owned just to go back to a year ago, when the biggest problem in my life was failing a geometry quiz, rather than figuring out how to exist in a world that felt entirely hollow.

"Bonnie..hey bonnie are you listening?"

I felt a soft tap on my shoulder, breaking through the heavy fog in my brain. My gaze slowly focused back on my social worker, Marie, who was looking at me with a very serious but worried expression. Her office always smelled faintly of lavender and old paper, a smell I used to find comforting when she first started visiting my dad and me, but now it just made my stomach churn with anxiety.

I realized then that she probably was asking me questions, but I was so wrapped up in my own head to even realize. The dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun slanting through the window blinds had completely captivated my attention while my life was being debated across a wooden desk.

"I'm sorry, did you ask me something?" I mumbled my voice sounding incredibly raspy, like I hadn't used it in days. To be fair, I hadn't spoken much since the funeral.

Marie still looked at me questionably before taking a slow, measured breath and asking the question again.

"I was asking if you'd consider living with your grandmother for the time being."

My brows immediately furrowed in question. A cold wave of utter bewilderment washed over me. Because last time I checked, my grandmother died when I was ten. I distinctly remembered the dreary, rainy Tuesday we buried my dad's mother. I remembered the heavy black dress my dad made me wear and the way he held my hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Marie must have realized the absolute confusion I was displaying because she leaned forward slightly and continued on.

"I was doing some research and actually ended up finding your maternal grandmother on your mother's side."

Unsure of what to say after hearing this sudden, earth-shattering news, I pushed my chair back, scooted my hair out of my face, and stood up so fast I almost knocked over her tea mug that sat on her desk. The ceramic clattered loudly against the wood, the sound echoing in the small room like a gunshot.

"I never asked you to do that!" The words ripped out of my throat before I could stop them. My hands balled into tight fists at my sides.

Marie didn't flinch. She just looked at me with that same, steady patience that drove me entirely insane. "Bonnie, what other choice did we have? None of your father's family wanted to take you in, and considering that you're still a minor, it was either I found the next best possible option or I'd have to place you in foster care, and trust me, it's better for you that you're not in the system."

My mind was reeling with so many things; I honestly felt like I couldn't even breathe. The walls of the small office suddenly felt like they were caving in, pressing all the oxygen out of the room. Foster care. Relatives who didn't want me. A maternal grandmother I didn't even know existed. It was too much. Placing my hand firmly on my chest, I kneeled over the side of the desk, desperately trying to control my already spiraling breathing.

"Oh my gosh, Bonnie," I could hear Marie's panicked voice cutting through the haze as she quickly moved around the desk. She gripped my shoulders tightly, trying to ground me, trying to calm me down.

But her touch felt miles away. There was a ringing so loud in my ears that it was impossible to hear her at the moment. It sounded like a television static dial turned all the way up, drowning out the entire world. My lungs burned. Every inhale felt like I was dragging crushed glass down my throat.

How can she do this to me, I thought. The betrayal stung worse than the panic. She wanted to place me with someone who didn't even care to find me or get to know me. For fifteen years, this woman had been out there, living her life, completely ignoring the fact that I existed. And now I was supposed to just pack up and go live in her house? How can she..she—

"Deep breaths, Bonnie. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Match my rhythm," Marie was instructing, her voice steady and demanding.

Slowly, the static began to fade. The crushing weight on my chest lifted just a fraction of an inch. her voice started to become clearer as my breathing steadied and began evening out. I blinked hard, the blurry outline of the desk coming back into focus. I was exhausted. The adrenaline crash left my limbs feeling like they were made of lead.

Marie gently guided me back into my chair and handed me a small paper cup of lukewarm water from the cooler in the corner. I drank it in slow sips, letting the liquid soothe my raw throat.

"Are you back with me?" she asked softly.

I gave a tiny, pathetic nod. I pulled the sleeves of my baggy bomber jacket down over my knuckles, a nervous habit I'd developed whenever I felt overly exposed.

"I'm sorry," I muttered to my shoes. "I just... it was a lot."

"You don't need to apologize, Bonnie. You've been through unimaginable trauma this past year. Your reaction is completely valid." Marie leaned back against the edge of her desk, crossing her arms. "I know this feels like a massive shock. But when your uncles made it clear they couldn't accommodate a teenager, I had to exhaust every avenue. I pulled your original birth certificate. Your mother's name led me to some public records, which led me to a woman named Sherly."

My head snapped up at the mention of my mother. That elusive, faceless phantom who had haunted the edges of my entire life. She was the gaping hole in my history, the question my dad could never quite answer without his eyes going completely hollow.

"Did you..." I started, my voice trembling slightly. "What about her? My mother? Did you find her?"

Marie's expression softened into something deeply sorrowful. She slowly shook her head. "I didn't find any information on your mother, Bonnie. I'm so sorry." "It's like she dropped off the map entirely after leaving New Jersey. But your grandmother, Sherly... she is very much alive. And when I contacted her and explained the situation, she didn't hesitate. She wants you to come stay with her."

I let out a harsh, bitter breath. "Right. A total stranger who magically wants to play family now that my dad is gone."

"She didn't know, Bonnie. From what I gather, your parents' split was incredibly complicated, and ties were severed completely. But she is your family. And she has a beautiful home. It's safe, and it keeps you out of the group home system."

I started picking at a loose thread on the knee of my cargo pants. The thought of moving into a stranger's house, having to make forced small talk, having to pretend to be grateful—it sounded like absolute torture.

"Where does she even live?" I asked, bracing myself for the worst.

"Fairhope, Alabama."

I stared at her. I blinked once. Twice. "Alabama." I scoffed loudly, the sheer absurdity of the situation finally hitting me. "Isn't southern places like racist or something?"

Marie let out a surprised, slightly breathy chuckle, the tension in the room finally snapping just a bit. "Well, prejudice exists everywhere, unfortunately. But Fairhope is a beautiful, established coastal town. And from the background checks and conversations we've had, your grandmother is a very well-respected woman in her community. She's devout, involved in her church, and genuinely seems eager to meet you."

"Church," I groaned quietly, rubbing my temples. "Great. So I'm moving in with a Bible-thumping stranger in the Deep South."

"She's seventy years old, sweet, and she agreed to take in a grieving teenager without a second thought. Give her a chance, Bonnie. Give this a chance. Just until you turn eighteen. Once you're a legal adult, you can take whatever path you choose. But right now, this is the safest steppingstone."

The next forty-eight hours passed in an agonizing, surreal blur. Going back to the apartment I had shared with my dad for fifteen years to pack up my life was a fresh kind of torture. Everything smelled like him. His heavy winter coats still hung by the door. His favorite armchair still held the permanent indent of his frame.

I packed ruthlessly, mostly because lingering on any single object made my chest tight all over again. I threw all my clothes into a large duffel bag and packed the things that actually mattered: my notebooks, my favorite pens, and a stack of paperback novels in another carry-on bag. I didn't take much else. Leaving the apartment key on the kitchen counter felt like severing the final string tying me to the person I used to be.

Before I knew it, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Marie's sedan, watching the gray, concrete landscape of New Jersey roll past the window. The sky was overcast, mirroring the heavy, sullen mood settling deep into my bones. We didn't talk much on the drive to Newark Liberty International Airport. There wasn't much left to say. The reality of my situation was a massive, immovable boulder sitting right in my lap.

The airport was a horrific mess of travelers dragging rolling luggage, families hugging goodbye, and overhead announcements blaring unintelligible flight information. We pulled up to the curb outside the departing flights terminal. The brakes squeaked slightly as Marie put the car in park and turned off the engine.

She popped the trunk, and we both got out into the humid, exhaust-filled air. I hauled my heavy duffel bag onto my shoulder, adjusting the straps of my backpack. The weight of everything pulled me down, making me slouch even further into my thick jacket.

Marie stepped around the back of the car, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her slacks. She looked at me, that familiar, pitying softness returning to her eyes. I hated that look. It reminded me that I was a tragedy.

"You have your boarding pass?" she asked, breaking the noisy silence between us.

"Yeah. It's on my phone," I replied, my voice monotone.

Marie stepped forward and, to my absolute surprise, wrapped her arms around me in a tight, surprisingly fierce hug. I stiffened for a second, my hands hovering awkwardly in the air, before I let out a defeated sigh and loosely patted her back.

"You are going to be okay, Bonnie," she said softly, pulling back to look me directly in the eye. Her gaze was determined, willing me to believe her. "I know it feels like the end of the world right now. I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. But you are strong. Stronger than you realize. This is just a new chapter."

I offered a weak, non-committal shrug, shifting my duffel bag higher on my shoulder. "It's just until I'm eighteen."

"Just until you're eighteen," she agreed with a nod. Then, she offered a gentle, reassuring smile. "And listen to me. I'm not just dropping you off and disappearing. Every few months I'll check on you to make sure you're settling in ok." "If things are bad, if you feel unsafe, you call me. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good." Marie took a step back toward her car door. "Have a safe flight, Bonnie. Tell your grandmother I said hello."

"Bye."

I turned around and faced the sliding glass doors of the terminal. The automatic sensors triggered, pulling the doors apart to reveal the brightly lit, bustling interior of the airport. Taking a deep breath, I adjusted the strap of my bag one last time, lowered my head, and walked inside. I didn't look back.