CHAPTER 12:
Jennifer had been crashing on her couch all week, and still Marissa had not yet come home from Cooper's place. Jen finally decided to go and try to talk to her daughter, hoping that maybe Cooper had been able to speak some sense into her.
When Jen got off the bus at the familiar apartment block of 316R, rain started spitting sporadically from the greying sky. She approached the door, knocking against it softly. A few moments later, the door opened.
"Hello? Mum?" Marissa spat.
"Marissa, I wanted to talk to you."
"Go away!" Marissa turned, slamming the door in Jen's face. Jen stood on the step, scowling for a moment more before she decided to be a little more determined. She prepared herself mentally and kicked the door in. It cracked open and inside stood a surprised Marissa.
"I told you, go away!" She whined as she started walking towards her room.
"No! I am talking to you whether you like it or not! And I need you to listen to me!"
"What don't you understand? I don't want to speak to a murderer!" Marissa shouted. Jen was stunned
"Marissa Taylor!" Jen shouted back at her.
"Oh, don't middle name me! Ok? I HATE YOU!" Marissa screamed.
"W-what?"
"I hate you! You're not my mum!"
"I am your mother! I was the one who gave you your god damn life and…"
"And you KILLED my father!"
"I…" Jen paused, gathering herself. "Okay, so I did. But that doesn't change the fact that you are my daughter!"
"NO! You are not my mum. Now, leave me the bloody hell alone, JENNIFER!"
Jen stood still in complete shock, her ears doubting what her daughter had just yelled. Marissa gave her one last final hate-filled glare before locking herself into the bathroom. Jen felt absolutely void of anything; no feelings, no pain, no nothing. Jennifer sighed sadly in defeat. She turned around slowly. Part of her wanted to stay, and the other part of her felt like there was nothing worth staying for.
Jen returned to home. Fiona and Cooper were at home, eating dinner. Jen begrudgingly joined them. Fiona noticed something was up, but felt it was better to not ask. She would wait until Jen confided in her. However, Jen remained quiet right until she finished her meal.
"Listen, I…things with Marissa, and I…look, I want you two to have this house. You need it more than I do now and…she wouldn't live with me if you paid her."
"Jen, that's…you can't do that." Fiona objected.
"No, I want to. You two deserve it. I'll move out, get an apartment, not necessarily a penthouse one but an apartment and then Marissa can come home from Cooper's. It'll just be easier on all of us."
"All right, if you say so and want to, then we'll take it." Cooper answered for the two of them. He was glad that Jen gave them the house, but at the same time, he almost saw it coming.
Jen gathered her things, and put them in her Mini Cooper that Cooper had brought up from his garage for her. She packed her clothes and other things in the trunk and drove off to downtown London. Before she was going apartment hunting, she was going out to get a drink. She arrived a short while later at a low-key Irish inn and pub. She walked in; the place was nearly empty. She took a seat at the grungy bad counter, sitting on a stool that creaked under her weight. The bar man looked over his shoulder, averting his eyes from the football match on the tele.
"Aye, what can I get ya lassie?"
"I'll take a whole bottle of tequila." Jen forked over about twenty or so pounds from her wallet. "And if at all possible, a room upstairs?"
"I can do that. And for buyin' the whole bottle, your room is free. Now, drinking a whole bottle; either you're alcoholic or you're really damn depressed."
"You have no idea." Jen replied, pouring her first shot. She took it down in one mouthful and poured another. The amber liquid settled in her glass before she took another drink. The bartender watched her take three shots back before she paused and asked for a glass of water. He felt obligated to get it as fast as he could, figuring this was the best money he had made on one person in months. She took her water with a sigh, gulping it down too.
"So, can I ask you what's wrong?" He asked calmly. She looked at him.
"My husband's dead because of me, my daughter has disowned me and my life sucks."
"Aye, that's bad."
"No shit. You know it's bad because I'm here, drinking in an IRISH pub." Jen argued boisterously, drinking her fourth shot of the night. The bartender just walked over to the other side of the bar to serve another man. He had had people in like this before; their anger soon disappeared once their poison set in. He waited until she had nearly finished the bottle. He closed up the bar, leading the drunk woman to her room. He gave her a key and left to go to his own bedroom above the bar.
Jen woke up several times, barely knowing where the hell she was. It slowly came back each time just before she passed out again. Then finally, she woke up for good at eight o'clock. She felt like utter crap. Hungover to hell and back. Then, the words of her daughter came back to her. 'NO! You are not my mum. Now, leave me the bloody hell alone, JENNIFER! 'Jen sighed groggily, pulling the near empty bottle from under her bed. She drank down the remaining liquid straight out of the bottle and went back to sleep. She had nothing left; nothing at all but her friend named tequila.
