Musicals rang out in my ears while I laid back on my bed, legs hanging over the edge, enjoying the wind from the over-hanging fan. I was in my happy place, completely at ease. Until I felt a hand grab at me.
I shot up, sitting straight on my bed to see my mother standing in front of me. She had apparently knocked multiple times, but I hadn't heard. I fling my earphones on to my bed.
"I'm sorry I scared you." She said in her typically quiet voice. Looking at her I could see that she had that glazed look in her eye. She was drunk again.
"You didn't," I try smiling up at her "Just surprised me."
"I was just making sure you were packing for school. You only have 3 more days." She started her way to the door, stumbling a bit. "You never do what you're supposed to do."
"Yes mom, I know." I glance at the clock, it was 8:17 at night. I called after her "Hey, it's getting a bit late. You heading to bed soon?"
"I am the mother. I tell you when to go to bed!" she called back from the hall.
Sigh. "Yes mother."
And so started her rant. It slowly got drowned out by the distance of her room to mine. I got up and closed the door more, locking the door for safety measures.
Summer was too long. Don't get me wrong, I love summer. Just not this one.
My father died the month before my senior year ended. It was a bad end to a bad high school career. Everywhere I went there was some one giving me that look. You know, the one where they are basically saying "How are you doing? Do you need anything? Like a casserole?"
We got at least 8 casseroles.
He was a known figure in the town, especially in the theater community. He had gone to a university for vocal performance, but came back to his hometown with my mom, and had me.
Then the cancer hit. It's not like it happened all of a sudden, it lasted a good 3 months, they didn't catch it in time, I guess there was nothing much they could do for him.
I got accepted into the same school he went to, NYU. The same day he went to the hospital. One of mom's favorite sayings in those situations is "One of Gods many unfunny jokes".
I shoved my buds backinto my ears and turned the volume up full blast, hearing Kristen Chenoweth singing a perfect rendition of "Glitter and Be Gay". Tying my blond poof hair back into a bun, I start on the remaining clothing that is supposed to fit into my suitcase.
I kneel beside my suitcase to try to skillfully fit the rest of my clothing into it, and start to fiddle with my name tag on the handle,the words "Christine d'Arcy" shining back at me, along with a number and my address.
I sigh and begin shoving.
