Status: Not so frequent updates
Royals
No post code envy
I rubbed my aching jaw as I plopped down onto the chair by my kitchen table. It sagged beneath my weight, which really wasn't all that much. I noticed the newspaper lying across from me on the table. I spun it towards me, and skimmed the headlines before tossing it aside. The fuck if I cared what Obama was doing today. I glanced up at the ticking analog clock, Tanya was going to be here any minute. I rubbed my puffy lip, and noticed a crimson stain on my fingers as I pulled them away. Damn, bleeding again. With a sigh, I peeled myself off the seat and headed into the bathroom.
I flicked on the light, and squinted for a moment, my eyes trying to adjust. After a second or two, my vision returned, and I began damage control. A puffed-up, bloody lip, a bruised jaw, and a reddened cheekbone, not bad. I smiled at my reflection, causing my lip to split even more, and my mouth to pool with blood. I laughed, and spit on the mirror. The red droplets rolled downward and dripped into the sink. Gross. I heard the screen door open, and scrambled to wipe the blood off the mirror, and off of my face.
"Jamie?" Tanya called, tentatively. I flicked off the light and headed towards the kitchen.
"Back here," I answered. I heard her close the door, and her shoes squeaking across the floor. I turned to face her, and could see plainly that she had been crying. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her nose was still a bit pink.
"What happened?" I asked. She laughed softly.
"I could ask you the same thing, look at your face," I smirked.
"It's nothing, you should see the other guy," I joked. She rolled her eyes. I knew what she was going to say next.
"You got in another fight?"
"This guy had it coming to him, Tanya, I swear," I assured her, sitting down once again. "Now it's your turn, what happened to you?" She sighed, but took the seat across from me. She stared into space for a moment, thinking, before wiping her lip with her sleeve.
"Uh, well I came home today, and um..." She paused, and I could see tears brimming in her eyes. She blinked them away and continued. "And my mom was high," she stated, flatly, leaning back in her chair and making eye contact with me for the first time this conversation. I sighed, and looked back at her.
"I'm sorry. I know you thought this time would be different."
"It's just, I just thought that-, she was doing so well," her voice broke. I reached across the table and squeezed her hand gently.
"It's gonna be okay," I said quietly, tilting my head to look at her. "You can't keep doing this, you have to just try to forget about it."
"She's my mom," she shook her head, "I can't just forget about it, or look the other way, I have to try to stop her,"
"You're seventeen years old, you can't stop her from doing anything. Your mom's a grown woman, she needs to help herself," I implored. "There's nothing you can do." She sighed, and wiped her tears away, she had always hated crying.
"I need to forget this whole day," she muttered. "You wanna go to Ruby's?" I smiled.
"Definitely." I got up from the table and grabbed the sweatshirt I had thrown on the couch earlier. She followed me to the door, and waited as I fumbled with the lock. We headed down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. Neither of us spoke. We didn't really need to. I looked up at the rows of houses, all alike in their run-down manner. Each house coated with peeling white or brown paint, with broken stairways and boarded up windows. It was hard to believe people, like me, lived in these houses. It was hard to believe people like me lived at all.
I flicked on the light, and squinted for a moment, my eyes trying to adjust. After a second or two, my vision returned, and I began damage control. A puffed-up, bloody lip, a bruised jaw, and a reddened cheekbone, not bad. I smiled at my reflection, causing my lip to split even more, and my mouth to pool with blood. I laughed, and spit on the mirror. The red droplets rolled downward and dripped into the sink. Gross. I heard the screen door open, and scrambled to wipe the blood off the mirror, and off of my face.
"Jamie?" Tanya called, tentatively. I flicked off the light and headed towards the kitchen.
"Back here," I answered. I heard her close the door, and her shoes squeaking across the floor. I turned to face her, and could see plainly that she had been crying. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her nose was still a bit pink.
"What happened?" I asked. She laughed softly.
"I could ask you the same thing, look at your face," I smirked.
"It's nothing, you should see the other guy," I joked. She rolled her eyes. I knew what she was going to say next.
"You got in another fight?"
"This guy had it coming to him, Tanya, I swear," I assured her, sitting down once again. "Now it's your turn, what happened to you?" She sighed, but took the seat across from me. She stared into space for a moment, thinking, before wiping her lip with her sleeve.
"Uh, well I came home today, and um..." She paused, and I could see tears brimming in her eyes. She blinked them away and continued. "And my mom was high," she stated, flatly, leaning back in her chair and making eye contact with me for the first time this conversation. I sighed, and looked back at her.
"I'm sorry. I know you thought this time would be different."
"It's just, I just thought that-, she was doing so well," her voice broke. I reached across the table and squeezed her hand gently.
"It's gonna be okay," I said quietly, tilting my head to look at her. "You can't keep doing this, you have to just try to forget about it."
"She's my mom," she shook her head, "I can't just forget about it, or look the other way, I have to try to stop her,"
"You're seventeen years old, you can't stop her from doing anything. Your mom's a grown woman, she needs to help herself," I implored. "There's nothing you can do." She sighed, and wiped her tears away, she had always hated crying.
"I need to forget this whole day," she muttered. "You wanna go to Ruby's?" I smiled.
"Definitely." I got up from the table and grabbed the sweatshirt I had thrown on the couch earlier. She followed me to the door, and waited as I fumbled with the lock. We headed down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. Neither of us spoke. We didn't really need to. I looked up at the rows of houses, all alike in their run-down manner. Each house coated with peeling white or brown paint, with broken stairways and boarded up windows. It was hard to believe people, like me, lived in these houses. It was hard to believe people like me lived at all.