Happy Mother’s Day...

All I could do was stare at the answering machine long after the message had quit.  I tried to call Avery, but no one was answering at the shop.  I called Nathaniel and Marshall on their cell and was routed right to voicemail.  Same with Avery's cell.  I found myself huddled against the nearest wall with my hands tangled in fists in my hair.  I wasn't crying.  I didn't know how I felt enough to cry.  But, I was twitching. 

I finally grabbed my coat and purse and hopped in the shitmobile.  I got there just after they stablized her.  The doctor had a clipboard in his hand pointing out something on it.  Dad looked over at me, dropped his eyes, and then looked back at the doctor again.  In the chair just behind Dad sat a tiny little woman wrapped in a sleek, off the shoulder, pink dress only 5 years older than me.  I felt my face flush and my eye start to twitch. 

"You brought HER here?" I spat, nodding to Amanda. 

"Brin, calm down.  She wanted to be here."

I scowled at him, then at her and then sat down the hall from them.  There was another family across the way from me huddled together, crying.  The little girl fingered the little gold medalion hanging from the woman's neck.  The woman smiled at the girl, kissed her forehead, pulled her close, and then took off the chain. 

"You really like this, don't you?"

The little girl nodded.  The woman smiled. 

"It always meant alot to me too.  I was just a little girl when I got it from her." 

She looked at it again.

"Here." she said as she fastened it around the girls neck. "You keep it now.  To remember her by." 

"She hugged the little girl, and then whispered, "I have all those memories, afterall." 

The woman tried to contain her tears as the little girl fingered the medalion, studying it.  They both cried into each others arms. 

I looked back at Dad, who was still talking to the doctor about things on the clip board as if they were nothing more than delivery receipts.  Amanda looked at her nails and adjusted herself in the chair, clearly bored. 

I gazed down at the ground.  I didn't bring anything to remember Mom by.    Most of the memories I have of her are confusing and frightening. 

Dad came over with the clipboard and kneeled beside me. 

"Brin?  She has no brain activity.  She was hurt pretty bad.  Sabrina, we need to let her g--"

"I want to see her." I said. 

"I don't really think that's a good idea."

I just looked at him, and then shot up out of my chair and walked right into the room.  Mom's head was almost one big ball of bandages.  It looked odd and small where the left of her jaw would have been.  Her right arm was gone at the shoulder.  A few of the fingers that stuck out of the bandages on her left hand.  They were sooty looking.  I looked back at her head again with alarm.  It was suddenly clear why it was so small where her jaw was.  It simply wasn't there. 

I spun around towards the door holding my mouth.  I wasn't sure if I was going to throw up or cry, or both.  When I had composed myself, I walked out, took the clipboard out of Dad's, and signed the many places where the words "consent" and "discontinue life support" blurred in and out on the page.  I was the only one who could do it, afterall.  Mom never trusted Dad after the divorce. 

Dad smiled at me, pulled me close and then took the clipboard to the nurses station.  I looked towards the little girl and the woman, and then towards Amanda, who was now filing her nails. 

I walked back into the room with Mom and sat down on the bed.  I picked up the only hand she had left and held it.  I couldn't remember the last time I held her hand, and it felt cold and strange.  I put it back down again and stood up. 

"Bye, Mom."

I turned and left, not bothering to say goodbye to Dad, the doctors, or Amanda.  The radio in the car had been on the fritz for a while.  The clunky sounds of the engine clicking and grating was more bothersome than they had been on the way to the hospital.  It wasn't like something trying to hold on to the last of life, but trying to let go. 

I sputtered into the parking lot and the car died before I even touched the key.  I got out and starred at it.  Then, I kicked it and beat on the hood with my fists. 

"FINE!" I yelled. "Die, you stupid piece of shit!" 

I straightened myself, and still panting, I said, "But you'll do it all alone." 

I walked up the dark stairs to an empty apartment.  The clock shone 3:24 am. 

"Screw Avery, too." I told the clock. 

There were still dishes in the sink, so I did those.  I put up the laundry that was sitting around since the last laundromat trip, and then scrubbed the bathroom and kitchen floors. 

I then remembered Avery almost always had something to make me feel better.  I went looking for it.  It wasn't in any of his drawers, or under the bed, and it didn't appear to be in the closets or cupboards, either.  I thought maybe there might have been something in the glove compartment of the car, but I wasn't going back out there. 

I lost it.  I screamed and pulled on the clothes in the closet.  The rod popped out of the holders and knocked the shelf down.  A little box came sliding down towards me.  It wasn't much bigger than a shoe box for baby shoes.  I stared at it, for a minute, and then picked it up. 

I'd forgotten I'd had it at all.  I pulled the little lid off and reached inside.  There was a picture of my mom, a very small journal, about the hieght and width of a thank you card, and a few other little things. 

I opened the journal and read half way through the third page.  Then closed it.  Mom really was hard-headed.  Then I looked at the picture of the two of us.  I don't even remember when it was taken.  I really do look a lot like her.  I put it away and tried to push the image of her in the hospital bed out of my mind. 

Then I called Dad. 

"Hello?" came a groggy voice on the other end.  I paused a minute.

"How soon can you set up that interview for me with your friend?"

10:52 AM - 5 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

The Beginning of the End.

Things have been fast and confusing the last couple of weeks.  They slipped right on by without me giving much of a notice.  I'm sorry about that.

Dad called me several times and insisted I go to lunch with him.  I finally gave in.  We went to a decent sit down restaurant and talked about mindless crap at first.  As we were looking over the menu, he got to the meat of the meeting.

"So, I was talking with my friend, Ron, and it so happens that his company has an opening for a file clerk.  Now, it's a small company, but it's right here in town, so that should make it easier for you.  The pay isn't alot, but it's something.  And, he told me that he'd work the schedule around for you if you wanted to go back to school."

"I can find my own jobs, Dad."

"You know, there's nothing wrong with taking a little help now and then--"

"I SAID I can find them myself!"

"Really?  Because how long have you been employed this time, Brin?  3 months?  6?  How long do you expect Avery to stick around?  What would you do then?"

"Avery isn't going anywhere."

"You don't know that--"

"No!  YOU don't know that!  Just because you don't failed at your relationships doesn't mean that I will."

"But you're only 22.  You're shacking up with a go nowhere guy in a go nowhere lifestyle--"

"And you just thought you'd come along and save me, is that it?"

His face reddened and his whole head looked like it was about to explode. 

"Just like you were there to be a savior for mom?"

It was a low blow, and I'm not exactly sure why I said it.  To his credit, he just let out a sigh.  Then, in a calmer voice,

"You can still make something out of yourself, Brin.  It's not too late.  Take the job and go back to school."

"I don't even know what I want to study, and besides, it's expensive."

He gawked at me. 

"You had a scholarship to Brown University--"

"For business, Dad."

"Yes, a very versatile degree in an Ivy League--"

"But I don't WANT to go into business."

He paused, then said, "It's all you used to talk about."

"Times change."

He straightened his napkin, glass, and cultry. 

"It's funny how they suddenly changed when things went really bad with your mom."

It took me a little while to answer.  The last time I remember having anything close to a heart to heart with my dad was before he left when I was 12. 

"It was all the way in Rhode Island, Dad."

"Your mother wasn't your cross to bear--"

"Well she clearly wasn't yours, either!"

Then he gave me the look.  The deep one full of concern.  I was already angry and this was almost more than I could bare.  I twitched a little.  Then he looked at me with alarm.  We barely noticed when the waitress arrived. 

"Have you decided on what you'll be havin?"

"Start with her, whatever she wants." said Dad, looking down at his plate.  The waitress looked over at me. 

"You know, I'm sure whatever I order won't be the right thing for me.  Surely you know what would be best for me, Dad.  Maybe you ought to tell her what I'll be having." 

Dad starred me down, his face reddening again.  The waitress looked back at him, then back at me, and then said that she'd come back.  I started twitching again, and Dad's face softened until he looked like he was going to cry. 

"Samantha used to twitch like that when she got mad." 

I couldn't really help it.  It's a sore spot for me to be compared to my mother.  I stood up.

"Oh, that's IT!  I'm outta here!" 

"Brin?...Sabrina, wait!" 

"No."

"Look, I'll take you home.  Just let me get the check." 

The drive home was quiet and uncomfortable.  As soon as he stopped the car in the parking lot of my apartment, I swung the door open and shot out of the car. 

"Sabrina?  SABRINA!!...Goddamit, wait!" 

I fumbled to get my keys into the door, but when I finally got it opened I ran in and then slamed it shut.  Then, I sat against it.  I heard Dad stomping up the steps and soon he was yelling through the door. 

"Sabrina?  Don't be like this!  Sabrina!"  Then he hit the door, and then there was silence, though I didn't hear him go back down the steps. 

 "Brin, why can't you just understand that I love you." 

"I love you, Brin."  Then he slipped a card with Ron's number on it under the door, and his footsteps carried him away. 

I spent the next few hours both screaming into a pillow and then crying.  Avery had left a message saying he was going out with the guys and wouldn't be back until late.  Figures.  A little later the phone rang again, but I let it go to the answering machine. 

"Sabrina, it's Dad.  Listen, I know you're still mad at me, but that's not what I'm calling about.  It's your mom."  

He sounded like he was struggling to maintain composure.  I felt a shot of cold fear course through my veins. 

"She's in the hospital.  She's in a comma.  She--she walked right in front of a semi-truck.  Brin?  Brin, honey, she might not make it........Look, just--just call me to let me know you got this.  I love you."

10:13 AM - 5 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

A Quickie!

Sorry for my absence last week.  Today, I have an unavoidable lunch date with Dad about a job.  I'll tell you all how it goes soon... 

10:02 AM - 5 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Soured Honeydew

Honeydews. 

Sweet, juicy, ripe, green honeydews. 

And a deep, sensuous longing for them. The wishful possibility to shoot up the sweetness and get my fix. 

That's what dominated my mind while I cooked dinner.  Actually, it wasn't really the honeydews I was craving.  It was the passion the honeydews stood for in the poem I heard performed earlier in the day.  Because of it, I burned the garlic bread, overcooked the noodles, and dried out the sauce.  I left the tea bags in too long, too.  We could add water to make the sweet tea less strong, but we can do nothing about the bitterness.  What a fine meal I managed last night! 

"Dinner's served!" 

Avery came to the table (actually, it's the kitchen counter and two bar stools, but hey, it's better than the couch and a stack of books).  He slowed when he saw the food.

"Uh, ...what is it?"

Alright.  Now, I don't profess to be the best cook in the world or anything, and a spaghetti dinner isn't hard to make even for me.  Especially since I use my special recipe sauce--handed down from Uncle Ralph and Auntie Albertson. (It's so good they called it Prego, although I've been known on occasion to use their less sucessful version which they called Ragu.)  But, I hate cooking.  Here I am, making the effort to cook SOMETHING, instead of just slapping together sandwiches, or throwing a hunk of cheese and raw carrots at him. 

"Bleeding, overplumped worms--still slimy, just like you like them--and a lump of coal.  Dig in."  I said. 

It really did look like that's what I served. 

He smiled at me and then he said, "You've been listening to Ju-Well on MySpace again, haven't you?"  He grinned even bigger, then slid into the chair and started eating.

He asked me what was for desert, and I could only think of honeydews-sweet, sensual honeydews on a hot summer day, and the sound we make when we eat them--sounds like deep, sloppy kisses, growing more passionate by the minute.     

I couldn't help but smile.  And, he smiled even bigger.

Then I asked him what was up with Nathaniel lately.  He's been more and more unlike himself lately.  He's with a different girl every other week now and he's doing other things that make me a little concerned. 

"What do you mean?"  was all that Avery said before crumbling his way through the garlic coal.  I finally gave up and moved onto another topic.  We eventually found our way to talking about our neighbors. 

I told him how I thought that maybe the woman was being abused over there and how I can't get her to come to the door. 

"I really think we ought to call the police on this one, Avery." 

That's when he just stared at me.  It kind of made me mad.  I mean, I know that the people in our apartment building aren't exactly law abiding citizens, and neither are we.  But still.

"I really think she needs help.  Unless you want to go over there and help her."

He dropped his fork in his plate.  "Brin, you have to stop talking like that." He wouldn't look up at me. 

"If you could have just heard her.  She sounded so...so..heartbreaking.  We can't just do nothing, we just can't.  This is crazy!"

"You're crazy!!!"

I was already upset, but suddenly, I didn't care so much about our neighbors anymore.  I got up and started clearning the dishes. 

"Brin, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to-"

"Just forget it."

A little bit later he joined me on the couch to watch some stupid documentary that I don't even remember now.  His eyes were all glossed over and his pupils a little dilated.  I'm not exactly sure what it is that he takes to make him like this, but it's better than the other stuff.  The stuff that makes him angry and hyper.  I know it's something.  He just won't tell me. 

He did what he always does, nuzzle my neck, and otherwise pester me until I can't be mad at him anymore, even if he's on something.  Still I asked him again if he really thought we should just do nothing.  He snuggled me close, kissed my neck, and said,

"I don't think there's anything to really worry about.  I really don't think there's anyone over there." 

I pulled away a little bit, but he said he didn't want to fight anymore.  I really didn't either.  He told me to describe the Ju-Well poem I heard to him while we made our way to our room.  I did all the things he asked and wanted; and not long after, he was snoring alone side of me.   

Still, my craving for honeydew was gone long after dinner...

8:01 PM - 12 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Neighbors, Scary Noises, and Friends

I woke to muffled sounds of crying coming from the wall between me and our neighbors.  It was followed by a knock against the wall, which was then followed by the sound of the pipes.  Maybe 10 minutes later, the pipes quit running; and a few minutes after that I heard a door slam.  At 2:15 in the morning, it's more than irritating.  I feel like I'm living in barracks or something. 

Just as I was about to go back to sleep, I heard long, methodical, scratching against the wall.  I pushed Avery a couple of times to wake him up, but it just interupted his snoring pattern. 

"Avery!" I whispered.  "AVERY!"

"What!" he grumbled back. 

"Don't you hear that?"

He rolled back over and grumbled, "It's fine, it's just the pipes.  Go back to sleep."  Then he started snoring again as if I hadn't woken him up at all.  Being the scaredy cat that I am, I scooted closer to the headboard and pulled the blankets up around my face. 

But the scratching gave way to more sobbing.  It sounded like a woman.  She must have been leaning against the wall.  Anyway, there was just something about it, something so mournful.  I couldn't just ignore it, though I tried.  I found myself kneeling against the wall just listening.  It seemed wrong to leave her all alone like that, even if she didn't know I was there.  I sat there into the dawn, ear against the wall.  As the sobs grew smaller, my mind began to wander. 

I started to think about Nathaniel.  We were always in different circles in school.  It wasn't until I met Avery that I started to get to really know him.  I know he's early twenties and all, and he's branching out, but I remember him as quiet, smart, gentle.  He's still like that most of the time. 

Before I knew it, I had slipped through that thin veil between awake and asleep.  I was back in 11th grade, taking a Civics test with the rest of the class.  It was almost summer break.  Between the heat and the long vacation that was almost tangible, I think we were all more just dozing off than taking the test.  Nathaniel loomed in the doorway, head hung. 

"You're late.  You've just failed this test.  Luckily for you, it wasn't the final." said Mr. Yun. 

Nathaniel didn't seem to hear him.  He walked over to Mr. Yun's desk, a white, folded paper extended from his almost mechanically stretched out arm.  Mr. Yun took it, read it, then stared at Nathaniel. 

"You'll have me believe this crap?" he said.  "I already told you--"

The eyes of the entire class was on Mr. Yun.  He crumbled up the paper, and then told Nathaniel to face the class.

"Apologize for to the class for interupting them." 

Nathaniel turned to face us and slowly lifted his head,  his blue eyes red and swollen, his cheeks mottled red.  He opened his mouth and out of it slide a scratchy, old woman voice, etching a haunting warning.

"Save yourself." 

I jerked awake and looked at the wall.  I was still trying to shake the dream away from my eyes, but I could have sworn that the voice came from the wall.  But, after a few minutes, it was pretty clear that there was no sound coming from there now. The sun was coming up.  I could see the light from under the door.  Then, I  looked over at the bed. 

"Oh crap!" I thought. 

Avery was still here.  He was supposed to open at the shop and start inventory today.  I ran to wake him up, and after a little confusion, he was up, in the shower, and out the door in record time. 

I couldn't go back to sleep--or maybe I didn't really want to--so instead, I made myself a cup of coffee and watched the sun come up through our flour-sack-ugly curtains. 

I never asked Nathaniel about that day.  In the sleepless morning daylight, I wish I had.  Seems too late--and too awkward--to do it now.  Good thing he doesn't have a MySpace account (or even a computer).  He'd probably be pissed I said anything about him crying.  Well, it's my blog, and what he doesn't know won't hurt him. 

3:36 PM - 20 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

Party Recap

We had a rockin’ party!  Thanks to all that came.  And don’t worry, Michelle, I understand the drive.  I’m just glad you came.  Also, Marshall didn’t say anything about whatever it was you said, so I wouldn’t worry.  But then, that tat really IS awful!  He didn’t tell me what it was supposed to be, did he tell you?  I thought it was some twisted version of Snoopy as a mermaid or something.  For all you that didn’t come, here’s how it went:

The party actually started before it was dark.  We blasted music loud enough to make the windows shake and took up a lot of the parking lot.  The good thing about were I live is that most of the people here would rather put up with this crap than call the good Sheriff of Nottingham; mostly because some of the businesses they’re in themselves aren’t exactly legitimate to begin with, if you know what I mean.  Some even came out and joined the party.  I only got the stink-eye from the lady downstairs at the end of the row just enough to give me the creeps.  I thought for sure that she would have called the cops; but if she did, they never came.

Around 11 p.m. I thought I heard my neighbors--you know, the ones that bang on my walls, moan, and laugh at 5 am--beating on my walls in the bedroom.  I went in to listen.  I actually SAW my wall bang out enough to move a stack of books against it out of alignment. 

Being decently drunk and feeling  a little vindicated, I pounded back against the walls and shouted, "How do you like that, huh?  Not so fun, is it!" 

There was a pause and then one very strong bang before--ironically--the only working light bulb in the ceiling light exploded with a pop and submerged me into darkness.  With the tinfoil over the windows so I can sleep longer, it was very dark.

And, of course, being drunk and otherwise mildly impaired, this really freaked me out and I let out a scream.  The party was loud, so I guess no one heard me.  I stumbled my way to the door just about pissing myself along the way.  When I felt the wall against my fingertips, I began searching for the doorknob and that’s when I heard what I could swear was laughing coming through the walls.  I know, crazy, since the music was so loud and the walls so thin.  But at the time, I was CERTAIN that’s exactly what I heard.

Then, the door slammed open and I screamed.  It was Nathaniel and some girl he’d found at the party.  Probably someone’s little sister.  Her cheap blonde hair was matted and tangled.  Her skirt was barely more than a belt at this point.  Nathaniel had his arms wrapped around her. When I screamed, Nathaniel let out a choked shriek and about dropped her on the floor.  She screamed, too; though I wasn’t sure if it had more to do with my own scream, or the fact that she had to stumble to keep from falling over herself, or both.  We all exchanged confused looks before we busted out laughing.  Then, the blonde smacked Nathaniel in the arm.

"Thanks, a lot, jerk!  Throw me and run, why don’t ya!" she said. 

He gave her the oh-come-on-baby look, and then something else far more disturbing ran through my mind.  I glared at Nathaniel.

"Oh, come on!  Seriously?  I have to SLEEP on this bed; can you take her somewhere else for that?" 

He smirked. "I’ll wash the sheets." 

I threw a pillow at him. "Alright, alright!" he laughed, "I’ll BURN them if it’s that important to you."

I screamed "OUT!"  They snickered their way back to the party. 

About an hour later, I was still sufficiently drunk and quite a bit more than just otherwise a little impaired (I’m just the apple of my dad’s eye...).  The party started to wind down.  I was outside with Marshall, looking out at the sky, and knocking back a cheap beer.  Marshall was telling me how he was thinking about joining the force. He had that deep look in his eyes that he gets whenever he comes up with an epiphany for his life.  I could only laugh. 

"What would we call you?  Sheriff Marshall?"  "There’s a new Marshall in town. In fact, his name is Marshall..."  (Hey, when you’re that plastered, that kind of stuff is hilarious.) He just laughed.

That’s when my neighbors’ window caught my eye and reminded me of how freaked out I was in the bedroom.  In the matter of minutes I convinced myself that they did it on purpose and had even rigged my light to explode.  It’s funny how things seem so brilliant to you when you’re wasted, though when you’re not anymore you feel like a complete dork.  Anyway, I took my empty beer bottle and threw it at their window, completely forgetting how all the windows are single paned and very old.  It put a huge crack in the bottom corner of the window.  When I thought I saw the curtains move, I whispered (as best as you can when you’re drunk) to Marshall that we needed to make a run for it.  We ducked and ran into the bedroom. 

I flipped the light switch a few times, forgetting again that the light bulb exploded earlier, and then flipped on the bathroom light instead.  Marshall and I looked at one another and then started busting up.  He asked me if I wanted something to drink, but I told him I was fine.  He went to get himself something and I collapsed on my bed, just looking at the eerie, green light that occasionally flickered from the bathroom. 

It was the last thing I remembered before surfing the vomit waves over our nasty toilet in the morning. 

Well, that was the highlights from my point of view.  But, man, it was a blast.  I haven’t heard anything yet from our neighbors about the window, though it’s definitely a bad crack.  But, I’m sure I will. 

7:11 PM - 11 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

PARTY!!!

This apartment is wierd.  At night I hear the pipes running, and the walls are so thin that I can hear my neighbors moaning through the walls.  Sometimes I hear them laughing, and sometimes moving stuff around and knocking stuff into the walls.  Always at night.  It’s so irritating.  Some of us are trying to get some sleep! 

This morning around 5 they must have hit the wall hard because it sent that stack of books that I piled high against the wall tumbling over.  We really need to get a bookshelf.  Or better yet, move!

Anyway, PARTY time!  Tonight at 8 until you decide to go home.  You know where we are.  My neighbors aren’t invited.  Who’s coming?

9:14 AM - 12 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Visiting Mom

The visit with mom was creepy as usual.  She had another psychotic break.  She’d been withdrawn for months, and we couldn’t find her.  I guess she went off her meds again. 

I slept in yesterday.  In fact, I slept all day.  It’s never fun to see mom like that. 

She just sat there, looking at the floor.  Occasionally, she’d twitch or smack her hand against her head.  So, I just sat there with her for a little while, saying nothing. I started to doze off when she screamed, "Shut up!  Just shut the hell up, Damnit!"  It caused me to jump and splay my arms and legs out.  I dropped my soda all over my lap.  When I looked back at her, she was looking down at the ground again, twitching every so often, like she didn’t say anything. 

I got up, grabbed some paper towels, and started to mop up the soda on my pants, then some of it on the floor.  When I looked up, she was staring at me.  Her eyes were distant and cold.  And then she said without much emotion at all, "You’re not safe, you know.  They’ll catch up with you, too." 

She’s never said anything like that before.  Mostly, she’s just withdrawn and mumbles to herself.  I guess it’s getting worse.

You know there’s only 1% of the population affected with this disease?  You know that children of affected people have a 10% chance of developing it? 

I think I’m going to go back to sleep now for a while.  I think I just need to sleep.

4:57 PM - 9 Comments - 11 Kudos - Add Comment

Welcome to My Life...

So, today I woke up to the the blaring sound of the phone ringing.  It took me a little while to find it.  I really need to do some cleaning.  It was a little early for me-9:57--so I figured it was probably Avery asking me what I’m bringing him to the shop for lunch.  I didn’t want to answer it before I knew if he took the car or not, so I just let it ring until I looked out the window.  And there, behind our lame 70s-style curtains, I saw our ugly, broken, weed-infested asphalt parking lot that’s always so popular with hole in the wall apartments like these.  But, the chit-mobile wasn’t.  So, I answered the phone:

"Look A%hole!  I told you before, if you want me to bring you lunch, you need to leave me the car.  I’m not toting my a$* down two blocks with all that crap in hand--"

"Sabrina, it’s Dad."

Although I don’t have the closest relationship with my parents, I felt my face flush.  I stumble my way around trying to  tell him how I thought it was Avery calling; but, he cuts me off and says:

"Listen, I just wanted to tell you that your mother’s been picked up again." 

My stomach sinks a little.  I know what’s coming next.  It always does. And sure enough, he says:

 "They’re taking her back to the institution as we speak.  I thought maybe it would be good for her if--"

I say something about having stuff to do.  I’m thinking all I really have to do are things like taking a nap, watching tv, hell; maybe I’d even do a dish or two.  But, nothing that would let me off the hook.  So, he hits me with:

 "Sabrina, she’s still your mother."

This makes me mad.  How dare he?  It’s my duty because she’s family?  It wasn’t his duty because he was married to her!  In fact, he divorced her.  I didn’t get to do that.  Anyway, we argue about it again.  He says I don’t understand, I tell him he doesn’t understand.  And then, he says:

"She’s still family."

And I blurt out, "Not to you.  Not anymore."

I just sat there fumming for a few minutes and then he asks me "So, you’re going then?" 

I know why he thought that.  I hadn’t hung up on him yet.  So I say, "Yeah, I guess."

He asked me if I still knew the way and I did.  I start thinking about how I don’t have the car, though, and I’m actually tempted to use it as an excuse.  But, I think of my mom’s face, and I remember that she’s still in there somewhere.  Sometimes I get a glimpse.  So, instead, I ask him if maybe he can pick me up.

A few minutes later, I’m sorting through the mess of clothes on the floor for something that resembles clean, then hop in the shower.  But, of course, there’s no water.  AGAIN!  So, I have to grab a water bottle out of the fridge.  I washed my armpits and most of the makeup out from underneath my eyes.  I would have done a more thorough job, but do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to wash with refrigerated water?  Good God!  I certainly didn’t need that cup of coffee. 

Of course there’s nothing I can do about the, um, smoke smell that’s in my hair.  Lovely.  I sprayed some cheap cologne on instead.  I’d rather smell like a $2 hooker than a...."misplaced hippie".  It was all fun to experiment and all; but, I’m not sure I’m liking what I’m becoming. 

Well, it doesn’t matter.  I don’t have anyone to impress.  Not really.  Dad will be here soon, but I don’t really want to go.  I guess I just have to suck it up. 

It’s family afterall, right?

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