I'm Beating Myself Up Over This

When I was eight, my mother was sober for about seven months. It was the only time she was really a mother and not a druggie. She wrote a will about two months into being sober. I think she knew all along that she couldn’t stay sober, and wanted everything in place, so when the time came for her to leave the earth, we wouldn’t have to worry.

In it, she left whatever money she’d have to her kids to split. Zero is pretty easily divided. She said any of her belongings we wanted, we could take, and the rest would go to second hand shops. The only thing I wanted was the wedding ring daddy gave her, that she never could seem to pawn off no matter how badly she needed the money. And there would be no funeral. She didn’t want us to waste the money. At least she was thinking of us at some point.

So my aunt was taking care of the arrangements. She wanted to be cremated and have her ashes spread along the tree in the park where her and my father shared their first kiss. It was sweet, and you could see that she really missed him, and the drugs were a way to hide that.

It only took about seven hours after I called Tom and told him what happened for me to get a plane back to Australia. I didn’t tell them though. I told him I’d call when I booked a flight, but never did. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I usually call them at any hour for no reason at all, but now I had a reason and I couldn’t bring myself to even look at the phone.

Maybe it’s because I spent so much of my life trying to make is seem like I hated my mother, that now when something awful happened I don’t know how to react. Should I be sad because she was still my mother and gave birth to me? Should I be relieved that I don’t have to wonder if she’s dead in a ditch somewhere? Should I be scared and alarmed?

I had so many emotions running threw me that I knew I couldn’t call them. I needed time to perfect my mask that I showed the world. It would be easy to show it to Lee, Curtis, and the Matts. But there were two people on this earth that could see threw it no matter how hard I tried.

And they were waiting on that bus.

I took a taxi to the hotel. I knew from experience that Oli and Tom would be in the same room, cause I always shared with them. Always. Unless SJ was with us that is. Which was rare, and even if she did some it was only for a few shows. I was the only one that could tolerate sharing a room with the Sykes boys. Probably because I’ve grown up with them my whole life and had become accustomed to their antics.

I stood at the door for what felt like hours, but was really only a few seconds, before knocking. Oli opened the door mid-knock and engulfed me in a hug. Not before I got a good look at his expression though. And that’s when I realized why I didn’t want to call them.

Sympathy. I hate sympathy. I hate people feeling sorry for me. And as much as they know it they still do anyway.

We stood in the doorway for a moment before he let go, his eyes giving away all the unsaid things he wished he had the courage to say to me. Oli was scared of three people in this world. His mother, a given. His girlfriend, sort of another given if you knew SJ. And me. And he knew what not to say around me.

Tom on the other hand, was only scared of his mother. Shit, everyone was scared of Carol half the time. Except me. She was never, ever mean to me. She never yelled at me. And it wasn’t because she felt bad for me, it’s because I was basically the daughter she never had, so I was special.

So I wasn’t the least bit surprised when the words flew out of his mouth.

“So, how are you holding up after the whole, ‘over dose’ thing?”

Straight to the point isn’t he? I think that’s one of the things that attracted me to him. He never held back in front of me, though a lot of people did. He wasn’t afraid to hurt my feelings, because if I cried he’d be the one to wipe my tears away. And he knew that I needed someone to tell me like it is once in a while.

I just looked at him and blinked. I couldn’t even form words. I think he took it as a bad thing because before I knew it he was holding me. I heard what sounded like someone chocking back sobs.

And that’s when I realized he was shushing me, because the person choking back sobs was me. I was shaking rather violently actually. And if he hadn’t been holding me, I was sure I’d be on the ground in a heap of tears and screams.

Oli excused himself, muttering something about a corner store. But I think we all knew it was because he hated seeing me cry. It was one of the few things that could make him cry. See me, SJ or his mum cry was the top of his list.

I sat on the bed with some help from Tom and buried my head into his neck, I felt him kiss the top of my head and mutter something. It sounded faintly of ‘I love you’ with some other words attached. Normally I’d be ecstatic, but I was too upset to even care at the moment.

After a little while, Tom had finally calmed me down.

“I think I’m good now,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” he said.

“No really. I think I just needed a good cry to let it out. I’m not even really that sad anymore. She didn’t want to be here once daddy died.” I said thinking deeply about it.

It was true. Once daddy died, it was like she was just a shell of a person. Tom seemed to understand and lay back, allowing me to rest on his chest. After a few minutes of watching some boring Ozzie TV show, the door to the room was flung open, revealing a rather proud Oliver with a pint of Half Baked Ben & Jerry’s ice cream in one hand and a Rockstar energy drink in the other.

Oli really was my favorite person at that moment.

He ran to the kitchenette and grabbed two spoons, knowing full well he was only getting a bite of the ice cream.

He handed it to me, along with my Rockstar, and sat down next to me, getting the only spoonful of ice cream he’d be getting, unless he bought one for himself.

I smiled as I took the first bite. The television had some God awful show on that was talking about home is where your heart is. Which, as cliché as it sounds, is true; because my heart is with these boys, and as long as I’m with them, I’m home.