Truthful Tuesdays - Life doesn't often allow for do-overs

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If you could "do-over" any one scene in your life... what would it be, and why?

 It was late or should I say early morning.  My then boyfriend and I had innocently enough fallen asleep on the couch in my parents living room.  I was 17.  We had asked my parents if we could get, The Paper, starring Michael Keaton on pay-per-view.  I don't remember anything about that movie but I do remember hearing my mothers footsteps coming down the stairs. 

She turned the corner and stood in the living room in front of us, wearing her light mint green zip up the front bathrobe.  I was on the couch with this boyfriend and we weren't laying in a very innocent way.  We were spooning with a bit of tangled up arms and legs mixed in.  

"Kerri Lynn, what in the hell is going on?"  she screams at me, her blood appearing to boil.

The truth of the matter was that we had done nothing.  I don't think we even "made out".  But, looking back, the position she found us in, was less then innocent.

He lived just down the road so he had walked to the house.  It was cold and snowing out so I said I would drive him home.

"Make it quick", my mother said to my back as I walked out the door.

She was sitting at the kitchen table when I returned home.  Still in her minty green bathrobe.  I took a deep breath and walked past her attempting to act like nothing really had happened because nothing really had. She demanded an explanation as any parent should demand upon finding their teenage daughter snake wrapped around a boy on their living room couch.

 I remember saying something along the lines of  

"Can't we talk about this tomorrow morning Mom? I'm tired."  

But my Mom wanted to talk about it right then and there.

I did not.

We were at an impasse.

I do not remember what I said to her as I began to walk away, making my way to the stairwell but whatever it was it couldn't of been very nice because my mom called out to me,

"You little son-of-a-bitch".

What I said in return echos still.  

With every ounce of hostility and teenager angst I had,  I turned and faced my mother

"No, I'm a daughter of a bitch", I said bitterly

and with the words spilled on the floor like milk, I walked away and up the stairs to my bedroom.

I don't know if those seven words hurt my mother the way I imagine they did.  I don't remember ever talking about the incident with her.  

I know when I got to my room I did not feel relief.  I felt sickened and instantly wished I could take those seven words back.  I wished I could have a "do-over". 

I still feel ashamed by my behavior that night. 

As I should. 

I can't imagine my child ever talking to me the way I spoke to my mother that night. 

I will be forever sorry for those words that I spewed at my mother in anger but I welcome the regret I feel as my punishment 

because

well, because I deserve it.