"Sometimes..." My mother took a deep breath. We were deep in conversation, once that I didn't even remember the start of. She was telling me about my father, I think, but she was being so discreet I couldn't exactly tell. 

"I've always felt like I was missing something, Hope. I've always felt like. . . There was something more out there, that I let go of. And now I'll never get it back." She began tearing up a bit, and I did too at the sight.

"I didn't have the best childhood. That's why I always tried to give you the best one. My mother was abusive, and an alcoholic, who spent the bulk of her time when she wasn't hitting me trying to get a date. It's a wonder I didn't have a whole litter of siblings..." I looked up at her, my eyes wide.

"But that's not the point. The point is, I never had a father figure in my life. There was a new one every week, and if I actually started getting the least bit close to one, they left. I never had the authority in my life to tell me what was good and bad, and the only reason I stayed in school was because of Ponyboy. Your father... Dallas, I mean, wasn't the best when it came to that. He rarely ever went, and if he did, he went to Johnny's and my classes, and not his own. I spent most of my childhood fighting with myself, trying to decide who would be the best for me. My best friend, the first person I had ever made a personal connection with, my conscience, or the devil on my shoulder, the boy I had had a crush on since the day I met him." 

"How did you choose Ponyboy?" I asked her.

"Dad. Your dad," she corrected, although using that word made me feel guilty now. So did not using it. I was conflicted.

"Right. So? How?"  

"How did I choose him?" She asked, sounding a bit flustered. "Well, I... I didn't exactly. He, well, yeah. He chose me really, for the most part." I sighed, feeling a bit guilty as I realized what she was trying to tell me. What she was trying to do. Between the father figure thing and telling me about choosing, she was trying to fix what was broken. She was trying to make me realize what they had both given up for me. 

"Mom?" I asked. She looked up at me.

"Yes, honey?"

"Did... Did he choose you... or me?" I asked. The atmosphere of the conversation changed after the words left my mouth, and I regretted asking immediately. The silence went longer than I would have liked. 

"I've always liked to think that he chose me, Hope. But things changed after a while. We were 14 and he made a split second decision to save me from what he knew I would do if I was left alone. He was hurt, but he was too scared to see what would happen if he didn't. He didn't want to lose me completely." I didn't know what to say, but I was curious about what changed. So I asked.

"He fell in love with you. He chose me, Hope, but he stayed for you." I frowned. I felt like an awful person.

"Why didn't he stay for you?" I watched my mother as she blinked tears away. This was a conversation we had had after a fight I had watched a few weeks ago. I had seen papers on the table, official looking ones, and when I had asked what they were, I was sat down for a long talk with her. I started remembering the beginning of the conversation as I woke up from a deep sleep, my head resting on Eli's shoulder, my neck aching. I had tried to pretend for weeks that this conversation hadn't happened, that I hadn't seen the divorce papers that my father had filed, and that everything was okay. But as I looked out the pitch black window on a moving train, the clock above me saying it was 3:30 in the morning, everyone around me asleep, with no money and no idea where my friends and I were headed, I realized that nothing right now was even close to okay. Every quiet second had me looking at those stupid papers, seeing the signatures, and worrying about what would happen next. But that wasn't even what I should have been worrying about right then. 

Once we got off the train, we didn't know where we'd go. We weren't even sure we'd know where we were! I held my breath, second guessing this idea to run away. For the past few days, the more I thought about it, the better the idea of getting away seemed to be. Now I wasn't so sure. As I picked my head up from my boyfriend's shoulder, he jolted awake. I noticed his arm, still around me from when we had sat down that evening. We hadn't moved much since then, I guess. 

"You okay?" He whispered, rubbing his eyes. His voice sounded gruff from just waking up, but I loved it. 

"Yeah," I said, but I was sure he knew I wasn't. 

"We should talk," he suggested. I looked around.

"We're gonna wake everyone," I said. I didn't feel much like talking right now. But he didn't seem to care.

"Why do you think I like Faith?" He asked. I shrugged. We had been through this, it was just a feeling I had. 

"Hope, I want an answer," He told me.

"I don't know," I told him. "Something just... felt off. You know you were her first kiss?" I asked. He rolled his eyes.

"So you're jealous?" He asked. I shook my head, I didn't even know anymore. But then again, when did I ever know?

"We just barely pecked, Hope. I know you know that, you were there," he said. I shook my head.

"It wasn't about the kiss," I told him. He looked at me. 

"So what was it?" I shrugged. It would be stupid to tell him about the day they pretended to date, and selfish on my part. That was to help Faith not live with her mom. 

"Can we talk about this some other time?" I asked. He sighed. 

"Fine." He seemed upset as he said it. I felt bad, because I knew I was being difficult. He leaned back in his chair and I watched him close his eyes again, trying to fall back to sleep. I watched him for a second, then got up, finding my way to the bathroom. I felt someone following me every step, but I didn't turn around until I walked into the bathroom. 

"Hope," a voice stopped me. 

"Faith?" 

"What is going on?" She asked me. She must have known that Eli and I weren't on the best terms right now, but it was just then that it hit me that she didn't know why. 

"It was about the kiss?" She demanded. I shook my head, not saying a word. That wasn't why I was upset. I didn't even know why I was upset... 

"I can't believe you would even be worried about this... Do you actually think I would steal your boyfriend or something?" She asked me. I shook my head, knowing she wouldn't.

"Do you not trust me or something?" She asked. Again, I gave no response. Of course I trusted her, she was my oldest, closest friend. She was family. I was just self conscious, I guess... 

"Whatever. We'll talk tomorrow." She stormed away, leaving me to wipe my own tears in the bathroom of a train in the middle of the night. I wished she hadn't have walked away. I wished I had said something to her then. 

"At least you're talking to me at all," I whispered before she walked away. I just hope she heard me...