I’m getting hard just thinking about it.
So I stop thinking about it. At least, I try. Glancing around the house, I check out the overstuffed dark brown leather couch and notice a new, jagged scratch on one of the cushions, the coffee table with fresh scratches on the surface, and the missing lamp on the end table since some jackass broke it last night.
Hell. Despite all the cleaning, this place still looks like a dump.
There’s a knock at the door and I go answer it, trying my best not to look too eager. Chelsea must be early and I’m excited, like a little kid about to go on his first play date. Wiping my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans, I take a deep breath and throw open the door.
To find my mom standing on my front porch with an expectant look on her haggard face.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“What do you want?” I ask, pissed that she’s here, pissed that I’m rude to her.
She rolls her eyes and barges inside, pushing past me so I have no choice but to step back and let her in. “I need money.”
No hi, how are you—none of that shit anymore. She at least used to play at acting as if she cared. “You already spent what I gave you?” I glance outside, hoping I’ll spot Chelsea, but I don’t see her. Besides, it’s too early. She still has at least fifteen minutes, and I have a feeling she’ll show up right on the dot. She’s punctual like that.
“Yeah, I did. It wasn’t enough,” Mom answers, her voice shaky, a little loud.
It’s never enough, what I give her. Money, attention, weed, whatever—it’s never, ever enough. She’s greedy as hell and doesn’t care who knows it.
“I don’t have any more to give you,” I lie, because I flat-out don’t want to dip into the secret stash hidden away in my closet. That’s for emergencies only. Definitely not for my mom’s drug and booze habit.
“You’re a goddamn liar.” She rounds on me, her mouth like a thin slash across her face, her dull green eyes narrowed slits. “Call your sister. Get some money from her and that rich shit she married.”
“I’m not calling Fable,” I say, my voice tight, my blood boiling. “If you want something from her, you call her.”
“You don’t think I’ve tried? Little bitch won’t talk to me. I go straight to voice mail every single time. I’m sick of it. Sick of all of you.” Mom waves her hand, stumbling around like she’s going to fall, and I go to her, catching her by the elbows before she drops to the floor.
I look into her face, see that her eyes are dilated and her breaths are coming fast. She’s high.
And not from smoking a little weed, either.
“Stay right here.” I give her a little shove, so she settles on the couch with a grunt and I make my escape to my room. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure she didn’t follow me, I go into my closet and head for my old varsity jacket from high school. A jacket I rarely wore but Fable insisted I get. She was so damn proud of me for being on the football team, especially when we won the regional championships. The smile on her face that night was unforgettable.
The look in my mom’s wacked-out eyes just now was unforgettable, too. I need to get her the hell out of here. Before Chelsea sees her. Before Mom starts bad-mouthing Fable again. I want to scream at her. Ask her why the f**k she’s so selfish. Doesn’t she realize how much she’s hurt Fable? How much she’s hurt me? Mom is a freaking grandma now. Autumn is her first grandchild, her blood flows through the baby’s veins, and it’s like she doesn’t even give a shit.
I’m not sure if she’s aware that Autumn even exists.
I find the wad of cash in my jacket pocket and pull a couple of twenties and a fifty-dollar bill from it. I shouldn’t give her this. I told myself not even five minutes ago I wouldn’t. I’m funding her drug habit and that is such bullshit, but when it comes to my mom, I can’t stop myself.
She’s my bad habit. The one I just can’t seem to quit.
Frustrated with myself, feeling weak and stupid, I go back out into the living room to find Mom pacing around like she can’t keep still. She keeps rubbing her bare arms as though something’s crawling on her skin and she’s trying to brush it away. She doesn’t see me yet, and I stare at her in dawning horror.
There’s something going on here I don’t want to face. I don’t have time to deal with it right now. I’d rather shove money in her hand and send her away. But I can’t keep on doing that forever. Avoiding my mom isn’t going to fix this. Fix her.
Can she ever be fixed?
“Here.” I rush toward her and grab her wrist, making her splay out her hand. I slap the cash into her palm and her fingers curl around it, crushing it so hard it turns into a crumpled wad of green. “Don’t come back for at least two weeks. I’m not your personal bank.”
“Fuck you,” she spits at me just before she turns on her heel and runs out the door.
Shock renders me frozen as I stare out the still open front door. She came and left, just like that. No thank you, no “you’re the greatest son alive,” none of that. Just a demand and a curse—that’s all I get for my troubles.
I’m the world’s biggest f**king idiot.
Anger streams through my blood, makes me stalk around the house with clenched fists and a broken heart. Why the hell does she do this to me? Why do I let her get to me every single time? I wish I were more like Fable. She’s pushed Mom right out of her life, and with no regret. Moved on with someone she loves, someone who takes care of her. Created a family out of nothing. And though I’m a part of that family and I know it, it’s still hard. The distance between us makes it harder.