Jack

August 7th

I tried my hardest not to let my stomach heave as seawater sprayed into my eyes, making them feel irritated and itchy. I had to resist the temptation, since it would just make it worse, according to Aunt Sherrie.

"Don't worry, kid,' she said, patting my back. "Take some water. Lots of folks get seasick their first time on a boat. Usually it gets better the more time you spend on a boat."

I stood up straight and took a deep breath in...well, as deep as I could, and took the water bottle out of Aunt Sherrie's hands. I unscrewed the lid and drank three large gulps.

"Don't forget to breathe, Jacko," she said, suddenly looking worried. "You're drinking way too fast. You'll drink yourself to death."

Once I stopped drinking, I took the bottle away from my lips and let out a burp. "Sorry," I said, feeling a little nauseous still.

"You've drunk quite a bit, Jack. When we get off the boat, we'll go to a restaurant. You'll love it," she said, with a smile.

I nodded. I was enjoying myself in two days with Sherrie than I ever could in a year with Mom or Dad.

Dad didn't come back until Sherrie and I had come to the airport. He'd already dropped Grandma off at home and went with me on the plane after I said bye to Sherrie. I tried to get Dad to talk to me about Sherrie and I's days out in Halifax, but he wasn't in the mood. He wouldn't even tell me why he never spent time with me when we went on vacation.

Not that it would matter later on, considering how right Aunt Sherrie was about Dad not being different.

Weeks passed. Grade 8 started, and soon I was loaded with homework, stress, friendships, and by October, having a girlfriend, AKA Aly. Mom usually slept a lot or ignored me, and to be honest, I was fine with that. After she burned some of my stuff, I actually was so much happier with her just ignoring me. At least she wasn't doing anything bad.

Whenever she was around, she would be complaining about back pain and headaches, usually to herself while I was making my own lunch. During this time, all I ate were sandwiches, cereal, milk, salads, chocolates, just about anything that meant you didn't have to cook because I certainly couldn't.

While I was doing all the hard work, ranging from chores to making food to my homework and having time for my friends, Mom began to take painkillers and Aspirin before going back to sleep. Once, I brought Aly over so we could do homework (this was in September), and she asked me something:

"It's kind of funny that you're the one doing all the work and not your mom. She's the parent, not you. Why is that?"

It took me by surprise. Me doing all the work instead of Mom was normal to me; it was something I didn't really think a lot about.

"Mom has back pain and headaches," I said, writing down the formula for the Pythagoras theorem. "She takes painkillers and aspirin."

"Are they so bad that she can't do work?"

That really shocked me. I looked up at Aly, with her blue eyes and freckles, black mesh hair tie with blue hair spray, her hair poufy and red at the roots, like Daria's was. Ellen, Daria and Aly always wore their hair in the same colour back then, with either white or black mesh ties. Her stare was so intense, I would've been in the ground if they could kill.

"I don't know. She does take a lot, though."

"Do you think she's addicted?"

That didn't occur to me either.

"Let's just get back to work," I muttered, eager for anything that could keep us distracted from Mom. It's something I didn't like to talk about then, and I don't like it now, but this story is what changed my childhood forever, and one little thing like this became much more significant than I thought.