Lost in You

puzzle board. 
    I wonder if she’s happy. When I look at Hadley, she’s always smiling. Her eyes are so full of life that you can’t help but be curious about what goes on in her life. Her laugh, it makes you want to tell her jokes just so you can hear the sounds she makes. My mom, she doesn’t smile or laugh. I can’t remember a time when she did. That thought alone makes me sad. Shouldn’t my dad want her to be happy? Isn’t it his job to make sure his wife, the woman he took vows to love forever, is always smiling?
    I take the last few steps and enter the house. It’s quiet, the clank of the door shutting echoes throughout the house. She shifts, her eyes only looking up briefly before she looks back at her puzzle. I thought for sure she’d smile at me. I’m her son, is she not happy that I’m home?
     
    I don’t know what to do. It seems that since Hadley came to church, my mom has been more withdrawn than usual. I wish she were more like Dylan’s mom, active and vibrant. Mrs. Ross is always peppy, sometimes too much according to Dylan, but at least she smiles.
    I sit down on the couch, rubbing my hands on my jeans. I stop quickly when she turns and looks at me.
    “Mom?” my voice cracks. She looks up briefly, before picking up her next piece.
    “Go change your clothes, Ryan.”
    I look down and realize that I’m in the same clothes from yesterday. I get up without hesitating and head to the bathroom and take my five-minute shower. I put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before making my way back into the living room.
    She hasn’t moved. Or maybe she did get up to re-fill her cup, but I doubt it. Her legs are crossed, just as they were when I came in. It’s as if she’s a statue. Maybe she thinks if she moves, she’ll crack and fall to pieces.
    I pull a chair from the dining room and sit across from her. Doing a puzzle upside down doesn’t really have any advantages, but it is quality time with my mom. I see a slight hint of a smile when I pick up a piece. I try not to stare, but seeing her cheeks rise, even for a brief moment, is nice to see.
    “Who’s the girl?” She doesn’t look at me when she asks. Her voice is soft and caring.
    I take a deep breath and place my puzzle piece in the proper location. “Her name is Hadley Carter.”
    “Yes, I remember that much, but who is she… to you?” Her eyes meet mine and I can’t tell if she’s upset or not. There is no emotion coming from her.
    I clear my throat. My fingers fiddle with the puzzle piece I’ve just picked up. “She’s my girlfriend.”
    Mom leans back in her chair. Her hands leave the table and rest in her lap. Her eyes, they move from me to the table and to the window. Maybe she’s watching for my dad, knowing I’d never say things if he was around.
    “She’s very pretty.”
    “She’s beautiful, inside and out. And I like her a lot.”
    She nods and picks up her coffee cup, but doesn’t take a drink. “You know you’re not allowed to date.”
    I sigh. “Why’s it okay if I go out with Dylan?”
    This has been something weighing on my mind. They are always so eager and willing to let me hang out with Dylan. Hell, she even let me spend the night in a hotel room with her without even questioning our motives. For all she knows we were having crazy animal sex all night long.
    “Dylan…” Mom smiles when she looks at me. A real smile, one that makes her face light up. She loves Dylan. I know this. “She’s a good girl and treats you well.”
    “So does Hadley.”
    She shakes her head. “A good girl would never ask you to sneak out at night to meet her.”
    “You…” my voice catches in my throat. “You know?”
    She nods.
    “It’s not what you think.” I look away to gather my thoughts. How am I going to sell Hadley to my mom when she’s so smitten with Dylan? “I like Hadley, Mom. A lot and want to see her as much as I can. She doesn’t live around here, so it’s not like I can see her at school or hang out after. She works a lot –”
    “What does she do?” she interrupts me. At least she’s asking questions. That could mean she’s interested.
    “She’s a musician.”
    “Devil’s music?”
    “Mom, she’s not the devil. She’s a musician. You’d like music if you’d listen. Hadley tells stories with her songs.”
    “It’s not allowed, Ryan.”
    “Why not?” I ask, leaning forward. I want her to look me in the eyes and tell me why we don’t watch television or even have a radio,