-1"Home sweet home." My mother muttered under her breath, shaking her head. I noticed her hands were still visibly shaking as she took a seat on the edge of the couch, if I had to guess it was from not having alcohol in her system. I frowned and sat next to her, biting my lip so hard I thought it would start to bleed. After a few minutes of staring at nothing, she let a few tears slip down her cheeks. I hesitantly touched her arm, unsure of how to react. She pulled away and laid back on the couch. "I can't do this anymore." She said, covering her face with her trembling hands. Then there was nothing, no noise from her or I.
"Do you need something? I could get you something to eat or something to drink and you should take your pills before you forget…" I realized I was beginning to ramble on but anything was better than the silence between us. "I'll get you some water to take them with, okay?" I said gently and hurried to the kitchen, trying to ignore the many bottles on the counter. I stepped over the shattered bottle that my mother had just when she fell the previous night. When I returned, she still hadn't moved from the spot I'd left her in. "Mom, you've got to take these. It says on the bottle you should take two every three hours. Just don't take any aspirin or other medication with it, alright?" I said, handing her the pills and the glass of water. She swallowed the pills obediently but otherwise ignored my presence completely. "I guess I should call Sean, do you need anything else?" I asked, but was answered with more silence. I sighed and nodded, grabbing the phone before heading for my room.
"Hello?" Sean's voice immediately made me smile.
"Hey Sean." I said, lying down on my bed and staring at the tiny bumps in my ceiling. Some of the paint was chipping and I wondered when the last time we painted was. When we'd decided to paint my room red, my mother threw a fit. She begged me over and over to let her paint it pink but my dad gave in to my request for red. "I have a feeling I won't be at school tomorrow. You'll have to suffer without me." I said, playing with a strand of my hair.
"Why? Is everything alright?" He asked, concerned. I nodded but realized he couldn't see me. Everything wasn't alright, but at the same time it could be so much worse. After last night, I realized just how worse everything could be. I may not completely understand my mother, but without her I'm nothing.
"No, I'm fine. My mom's still kind of…out of it I guess. It's hard, she's not talking or anything. We came home and she's just kind of sitting there. She told me she can't do this anymore, maybe it's a sign she's going to stop?" I said even though I knew I was getting my hopes up. She'd told my father and I a million and one times that she would stop, that she couldn't do it anymore but it never did stop. Sure, she had her moments when she stopped cold turkey but it always came back, and every time it seemed to come back with a vengeance.
"Yeah, I guess…" He said, clearly he was unsure whether to be blunt with me and tell me I was crazy for believing her or whether to be supportive and agree that she'd probably stop drinking. "So you didn't talk about what happened or anything?" He asked. I could hear a bag rustling through the phone and I pondered what he was eating. The thought made my stomach growl, I hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day. I sighed and headed for the kitchen, opening the fridge to search for something, for anything to eat.
"No, we didn't. Ugh, I'm starving, Sean. Got any suggestions for me?" I asked, shutting the fridge and opening the cupboard. My eyes lit up when I spotted a bag of pretzels buried under some other things. Jackpot, I thought.
"Yeah, here is a suggestion…eat something." He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. I could just picture his lopsided grin as he said this. Rolling my eyes, I opened the bag and sucked on a pretzel. Not the most healthy meal, but if it were up to me pretzels would be one of the major food groups.
"Very funny, smartass." I said, opening the fridge once again to grab the juice. I struggled to balance the phone between my shoulder and my ear while trying to pour the juice in a small glass. I dropped the contained and groaned as juice spilled everywhere. "Shit, I've got to go. I just spilled juice everywhere. I'll call you later, I've gotta get this cleaned up." I said quickly, hanging up before he could say another word. I cursed at myself and grabbed a towel to soak it up with. After finishing cleaning up the sticky mess, I grabbed my pretzel bag and began to walk back to my room. I froze as I walked into the living room.
"Mom-" I took in a shaky breath, trying to calm my anger. I tried to remember all of those stupid tricks that Sauvé had taught me about controlling my anger. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. I counted slowly to myself. 10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. I looked back up and realized my anger hadn't subsided. "Mom!" I yelled, throwing the stupid fucking pretzel bag at the floor. Pretzels flew everywhere but I ignored it and stormed over to the couch where my mother was seated at still.
"What?" She said calmly, as if nothing was wrong. I clenched my jaw shut, knowing if I didn't I'd let out a horribly loud scream. I watched her bring the bottle up to her lips and take a long drink, acting as if I weren't there.
"What the fuck are you doing!?" I screamed, clenching my fists. She finally looked up at me, looking somewhat surprised by my sudden outburst. The room began to feel like it was spinning, and I grabbed onto the arm of the couch to steady myself. "Well?" I yelled, waiting for a response.
"Well, watch your mouth." She answered, taking another drink of vodka. Her voice had the ever-so-familiar slur in it. I looked at her in disbelief and began laughing. I actually began to laugh. Had her memory been completely erased? Had she developed a sudden case of damn amnesia? She looked at me confused for a second but shrugged and turned the television on.
"I cannot believe this. I can't fucking believe this!" I said, shaking my head. "First of all, have you completely blocked out what happened last night? Second of all, you can't mix your prescription pills with damn vodka, mom!" I screamed, tears stinging my eyes. "Why do you keep doing this?" I asked loudly, choking back the tears. "Why do you keep doing it to me?" I said softer. She looked up at me and smiled.
"Because, Eleanor, this is what I do. This is the only thing I can do." She said, not looking at me. I watched her sit there, silent as she flipped through channel after channel on the television. She kept drinking her vodka as if nothing I'd said fazed her a bit. "Can't you go and do something?" She asked, again not looking at me. My mouth dropped in disgust, she expected me to leave her alone so that she could drink and pass out again.
"Yeah, I can do something." I said angrily, grabbing the bottle from her. She finally looked at me for the first time in a long time and grabbed for the bottle back. I pulled away harshly and stormed towards the kitchen, knowing exactly what I was going to do. I headed towards the sink and tipped the bottle upside down, letting the vodka pour down the drain. My mother burst through the door a second later, evidently horrified at what I was doing.
"Stop it!" She yelled, trying to grab the bottle away from me. I fought it away from her and managed to pour the remainder of it down the drain before she finally got it away from me. "Damn it, Eleanor!" She screamed, throwing the empty bottle at the wall. I jumped a little as it shattered against the wall behind me. "What the hell is wrong with you?" She slurred, opening the liquor cabinet and desperately searching for another bottle. When she found one she quickly cracked it open and took a drink.
"What's wrong with me? God, Mom, what the hell is wrong with you?!" I cried, grabbing for the new bottle of booze in her hand. "No wonder Dad left!" I screamed, breaking every rule in the Nash-house rules. I'd mentioned my father and I blamed my mom for something. She looked at me in disbelief and grabbed my arm, pulling me towards her.
"What did you just say?" She asked. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of vodka on her breath and pulled away from her. I swallowed hard, but knew that I wasn't going to back down. This was the final straw, I couldn't take any more. It felt as if something inside me had snapped.
"I said Dad left because of you and your stupid drinking!" I said angrily. I fell to the floor as her hand met the left side of my face. For a second I sat there in shock but after awhile I recovered and stood. "What Mom? Can't you handle it?" I yelled, touching my burning cheek. "Why don't you crack open another bottle? Oh wait, you already did!" She angrily shoved me against the wall behind me.
"Don't you ever talk to me like that again." She said, but I was far from through with her. "Do you hear me?" She asked, roughly grabbing my arm. I pulled out of her grasp and glared at her.
"Or what, Mom? Suddenly you want to start acting like my mother? Why don't you just go pass out again and let me have to take care of you?" I felt tears starting to fall and I decided to ignore them. I knew it would give her satisfaction to see me cry, but I didn't care. "I'm sick of being the Mom!"
"You have no idea how much pain I feel, losing my husband. You don't know what it is like to struggle day after day with an addiction, Eleanor. So until you go what I'm going through, keep your mouth shut. You don't understand." She yelled, grabbing my arm again. I struggled to escape from her grasp again but before I could I was thrown against the table next to me. I groaned as I sank to the floor, pain running through my stomach.
"I don't understand pain? I don't know what it's like to struggle with an addiction?" I cried, yanking my sleeve up to practically my shoulder. I heard my mother gasp a little, her eyes landing on my badly scarred arm and the somewhat fresh cuts from a few nights ago. I looked up at her, waiting for her to say something. A small part of me thought this could be the end of the fight, that she'd suddenly wake up and realize what her drinking was doing to me.
"You can't possibly blame me for whatever this is. Is this another cry for attention, Eleanor? Because I'm sick and tired of putting up with this." I looked at her in awe. There really was no way out of it. No matter what happened, she'd find a way to put herself first.
"Well I guess I'll just leave then, if you are so sick and tired of putting up with me!" I yelled, painfully standing. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. Ignoring her, I hurried to my room and began grabbing some of my important things and throwing them in my duffle bag. After awhile, I saw my mother standing in the doorway of my room.
"And where do you think you'll go?" She asked, as if nobody wanted me. I smirked at her and finished packing the last of my clothing. Before I closed the bag though, I grabbed the picture of my father and I from my nightstand and shoved it in the bag.
"I'm going to Sean's, to stay with someone who actually cares about me." I said, my voice softer than what I thought it was going to be. She shook her head at me, smirking. I brushed past her and headed for the front door, knowing that there was really no turning back.
"Fine, but don't come crawling back to me when he kicks you out. Maybe he'll borrow you a knife and he can understand your cries for attention." She said, but I could tell she immediately felt regret. It was the alcohol talking again though, I knew it wasn't my mother.
"Bye Mom." I said softly, closing the door behind me.