by Becca Little
“Can’t this wait until morning? I’m really tired.” My shoulders slumped forward as I stomped into the living room and sat down across from her.
My mother looked almost like a ghost in the glow of the lamp. It had been almost five years since my father passed, and she had lost a lot of weight. She barely ate. It got so bad my brother called in a doctor several times, but she always promised she would eat more, and they left her alone. Her skin had become gaunt and her age was etched in the wrinkles on her face. Grief had added quite a few new ones since he passed, and it seemed like the five years had taken ten off the woman who used to be the powerful matriarch of our family.
I always remembered her as beautiful, and the photos that adorned our house stood as reminders of the gorgeous woman she once was. It was hard seeing her in such bad shape, but I understood that her depression had gotten the best of her—that was what the doctors said at least. There was a cocktail of medication which was supposed to help her overcome the difficult times, but she hardly took it unless someone made her.
“I’ve done you a terrible disservice, Abigail.” Her voice was tired and grainy as she spoke.
“Mom, what are you talking about? I’m fine.” I tried to read her expression, but it was blank with no real emotion.
“No, you’re a long way from fine. You’re disrespectful to everyone you meet, including me, and you’ve lost your way. There was a time when I could have fixed it, but those days are long gone. I’m just an old woman now.” Her breath came out in a long sigh and it looked like the statement added months to her life.
“Come on, don’t say things like that.” I furrowed my brow. I was used to her melancholy, but this seemed to be something else entirely.
“Tomorrow morning, a car will be waiting for you at eight o’clock. I’ve made arrangements for you to go and live with a family friend.” She looked over at me. “You met him a few times when you were younger, and you might remember him. His name is Mr. James Addison.”
My heart started to beat into my eardrums as I tried to process what she had just told me. I wracked my brain for any memory of Mr. Addison, but I couldn’t find one. In their younger years, my parents were local socialites in Chicago. My father managed an accounting firm, and my mother was his secretary before she had their first child. They had a lot of friends, and occasionally I would hear about them after they returned from events. The few that stopped by our apartment had long since departed from my memories.
A lot of my childhood was lost in the mental breakdown I suffered after my father’s death, and I couldn’t recall a Mr. Addison. I continued to try and read my mother’s face. I couldn’t believe what she was telling me.
Was she really sending me away? She wouldn’t do that, would she?
“Mom, what do you mean I’m going to live with someone else?” My words were hurried as I tried to process what she had said.
“You’re nineteen now and you should already be in college. I know you blew it off and didn’t even take the entrance exams, but if you want to do something with your life, you have to do more than wait tables.” She coughed into a napkin and looked up at me again with her tired, swollen eyes.
“I’m happy waiting tables. I have no interest in going to college. College is for the smart kids.” I shook my head and dismissed the notion.
“You are a smart young lady, Abigail. I set aside a portion of your father’s life insurance policy so you could go to college, but it won’t be enough for what he has offered. Mr. Addison has pulled a lot of strings and gotten you into his Alma Mater. It is an Ivy League school, Abigail. After you graduate, you will easily find a good job and you can move on with your life. This is an incredible opportunity for you.” She tried to muster a smile.
“Thank you for that, but I’m not going to college.” My sarcasm resonated through the room as I stood up. “You can save your money and let Mr. Addison know I’m thankful for the opportunity, but I’m not doing it. Mom, I’m happy.”
“Sit down, Abigail.” A commanding voice resonated from within my mother. I hadn’t heard it in so many years it nearly startled me. I immediately sat back down. “I hate to put it in these terms, but since you don’t seem to be getting the message, I have to. Staying here is no longer an option. Whether you choose to get into that car tomorrow or not, you are leaving my home. If you give up this opportunity, then you will have to find somewhere else to live.”
“You’re kicking me? Mom!” My mouth fell open in shock.
“This is tough love, Abigail, but you get to decide exactly how tough it is.” She pulled herself to a standing position and walked out of the room.
I didn’t respond because I was in shock. I didn’t even know what to say. I sat there in the living room for nearly an hour, just trying to work through what she said in my head. I couldn’t believe she would throw me out, but there was more truth in her words than I had heard since my father died. She had been constantly badgering me to take the SAT, apply for scholarships, and send in applications for college. It was one of the few times she really did try to get me to do something. I completely ignored every one of her pleas because I was happy with what I was doing.
At nineteen, having a job that paid real money with no bills meant I lived in a state of financial freedom. Anything I wanted, I could afford. College seemed like a waste of time after high school. I felt like I had learned everything I could possibly need. The sternness in my mother’s words reminded me of the iron-willed woman I knew before my father passed, and that scared me a little bit. I didn’t want to leave home.
***
When I was certain she was asleep, I dug through her purse and found her cigarettes. She had started smoking again after my father passed and while I never really smoked, I felt like I needed one to calm my nerves. All it really did was make my nerves get worse and cause my heart to race in my ears again. I felt like I was going to have a full-blown panic attack, so I walked inside and opened a bottle of my mother’s wine. It wasn’t my preferred method of inebriation, but the alcohol I consumed earlier in the evening had long since worn off and I felt like I needed a drink. I poured myself a glass of the dark red liquid and stood in the kitchen continuing to process what she had told me.
I finished off two glasses of wine and went outside for another cigarette before I finally felt like I had dulled my emotions enough to sleep. Despite the fact it was almost three in the morning, I set my alarm for six o’clock. My mother always woke up early and I wanted to be up as soon as she was to try and talk some sense into her. I was wrong in my assumption that I could sleep because it certainly wasn’t a luxury my brain would allow after everything I heard. I tossed and turned most of the night. It felt like the last moments of my life were ticking away with each second that drew me closer to eight o’clock.
When I finally did hit the point where my brain shut down long enough to sleep, I immediately entered a dream filled state. There were college professors scolding me for waiting so long to go to college and angry visage of my mother staring me down. It was the face I remembered from my youth, not the sad look she had maintained since my father passed. As the dream turned into a nightmare, my father’s hand took mine and walked with me for a little while, not saying a word. I felt his presence in a way I had never felt before, and he was glowing with love. He kept repeating what my mother said, ignoring all my objections.
When morning finally came, I opened my eyes to see seven thirty-two staring at me. I immediately bolted out of bed and stared at the clock, trying wipe the sleep from my eyes. I quickly realized I had set the damn thing for six in the evening instead of six in the morning, and I had no time at all. I rushed downstairs to find my mother sipping her morning coffee with breakfast on the stove. I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to find the words I needed to say.
Chapter 2
“Mom, about last night... Please talk to me. I don’t want to leave home.” A car door could be heard outside, and I looked through the window to
see a luxurious blue Mercedes-Benz with a driver opening the rear door.
“My decision is final, Abigail. You can either get in that car, or you can leave. Living with Mr. Addison isn’t exactly a punishment. I hate that I haven’t been a good mother to you, but this is the only way I know to intervene and fix things before I’m gone.” She sipped her coffee as if she had just told me my ice cream choice was vanilla or chocolate.
“Fine…” The morning had brought anger, especially without enough sleep to really reset my brain.
I stormed upstairs and gathered my purse and the few things I could fit into a small suitcase. She wasn’t going to win; I stomped back downstairs, making as much noise as I could as I went down the staircase. I found my mother still sitting I the same spot, sipping her coffee as if there was nothing unusual going on. The grandfather clock I passed read seven fifty-eight.
“You won’t need those things where you’re going.” She looked at me and shook her head. “Mr. Addison said he would provide everything.”
“I’m not going to live with a stranger. I’ll take my chances on my own.” I started towards the door.
“Abigail…” She stood and once again summoned her strongest, most commanding voice.
It was enough to stop me in my tracks. It was weaker than the night before, and I was surprised it was still dormant within her, waiting to be unleashed.
“Mom, don’t.” I shook my head.
“Everything in this house belongs to me. If you’re leaving, that is your choice, but you need to put down your suitcase. If you walk out the front door with it, my next call will be to the police and I will file a report for stolen property. I don’t have to remind you that your car is also in my name.” The words came out like they were being read off a page, as if she had rehearsed them a million times for that very moment.
“This is bullshit.” I said in the angriest voice I had ever used when I spoke to her.
I turned to face her with fury etched on my expression. Technically, she was right. I didn’t have the credit to buy the car on my own, and although I had made every payment, it was signed in her name. I had crossed the line from a little bit upset to absolutely enraged. I couldn’t believe my mother had it in her to be cruel and evil, but that was exactly what was happening.
My rage and anger turned into hate as I stared at her while she casually sipped coffee from her cup. I threw down the suitcase and clutched my purse tightly against my chest.
“This is mine!” The purse was bought with my money, and everything in it was purchased with money I made working—I would be damned if she took that from me. As I stood there fuming, reading to give my mother a piece of my mind, the front door opened and a husky man stepped inside.
“Are you ready to go, miss?” He didn’t seem like he fit the mold of Mr. Addison with his cheap polyester suit, so I assumed he was just a driver.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I stomped past him and started walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of her tyranny.
I dug into my purse and pulled out my cell phone, tapping away at the Uber app until I had a ride lined up. I never drove my car when I went out with friends, but I needed it to get back and forth to work. I couldn’t afford to get an Uber there every single day. My first concern was a place to sleep.
I felt like a domesticated beast released into the wild. A short conversation with Sarah while the Uber drove in circles secured me a place to stay. Her apartment in Chicago wasn’t the Ritz, but it was better than nothing. I didn’t have to worry about waking up on time, coming home at a certain hour, or dodging my mother when I didn’t want to have a conversation about my life. Sarah was chill. All she really did was work, come home, smoke—cigarettes and weed—and drink. If my mother wasn’t going to let me come home to her, I would just find somewhere else to live.
Chapter 3
“There’s a party tonight.” Sarah stepped into the apartment and threw her keys on the counter. “You need to wear something nice. I’ll let you borrow one of my dresses.”
“I can’t.” I shook my head. “I have to work.”
“Why do you wait tables? You could come work with me at the insurance company. They need people who sound sexy on the phone.” She winked at me and put a make-believe phone to her ear with her thumb and index finger, babbling silently.
“You hate it there. You complain about your boss. Why would I want to put myself through that kind of misery?” I picked up my apron and tied it around my waist. “I do need a ride, though.”
“Take a cab. I have to get ready because Jeremy is going to be there.” She pushed her hand down to her pelvis and started grinding against it. “With any luck, he’ll rock my world tonight.”
“You’re obscene.” I sighed. “I can’t keep taking cabs to work if I’m going to pay my half of the rent.”
“Find something within walking distance then or come work with me.” She walked into the bedroom and slammed the door.
A few seconds later I heard an electric razor—I really didn’t want to think about what she was shaving.
Sarah did hook up with Jeremy that night. Things escalated quickly and it became what I would classify as a whirlwind romance. Within a month, he was moving in. I felt like the worst kind of third wheel, sitting in my bedroom trying to plug my ears while they fucked each other senseless in the room next to me. I heard all about his wonderful cock, how good she felt when he was inside of her, and all the disgusting stuff nobody should ever have to hear unless they’re experiencing it or watching pornography.
“The rent’s due.” Sarah pounded on my door early in the morning and I staggered over to open it.
“Yeah, I might be a little light this month.” I let my head rest against the door frame. “The restaurant has been slow the last couple of weeks.”
“You can’t be short.” Sarah pushed her way into my room and slammed the door, reducing her voice to a whisper. “Jeremy’s broke and he’s eating all of the food. I just spent twice as much as normal on groceries. I can’t cover your half too.”
“Can’t he get a job?” I felt a little upset that she was putting it all on me when he was the one that seemed to be causing the problem.
“He’s looking!” She snapped at me angrily. “Either you give me your half, or you need to move out.”
“Seriously?” I stared at her. “We’ve been friends forever! What is kicking me out going to do? I have some money, I just don’t have all of it!”
“Jeremy doesn’t like you. He says you’re a bitch to him.” Sarah’s brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed.
“Of course, I’m a bitch to him!” I felt my temper rising. “He’s a fucking loser. He sleeps on the couch all day, he eats all our food, and he does jack shit to contribute except fuck you every single second you’re here.”
“That’s it.” Sarah pulled the bedroom door open. “Now I see why your mother threw you out. Get the fuck out of my apartment.”
I stared at Jeremy who just nodded with a look of pleasure on his face. I knew he was happy to see me go, but I was angrier at Sarah than I was with him. He could take pleasure in my misery if he wanted, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I packed the few things I had accumulated since leaving home in an old suitcase and ignored them both when I got to the front door. Sarah took my key right before I walked out of her apartment and when the door closed, I heard it lock behind me. I was on my own again.
***
The streets were not very kind to me. I slept in a bus station the first night and I convinced my boss to let me sleep in a booth at the restaurant the next night, but I needed somewhere to live. I told my boss it was temporary but I was too proud to tell him the truth—I was homeless. A few days passed with me seeking refuge anywhere I could find it. I got rooms in cheap motels, but when I swiped my debit card for a sandwich and it was rejected, I knew I was in serious trouble. My tips weren’t enough to keep me going and they certainly weren’t enough
to afford a place of my own.
I got kicked out the bus station a few nights later and when I tried to sleep in the park, I woke up to find homeless people going through my stuff. They pilfered everything of value they could find, leaving me with a mostly empty suitcase. Everything I had managed to accumulate while I was living with Sarah was gone. It was my day off from work, which meant I couldn’t even steal a few morsels of food from the restaurant when my boss wasn’t looking. I was hungry, tired, and desperate. I walked into a convenience store and while the clerk wasn’t looking, I stuffed a couple of bags of chips into my purse. That didn’t go well.
“Excuse me miss.” I heard a loud voice say as I approached the door.
I turned to my right to see a police officer fixing a cup of coffee. He must have walked into the store while I was dodging the clerk. I started running as fast as I could, which wasn’t very fast at all on my weary legs. The police officer caught up with me quickly, tackled me, and slapped handcuffs on my wrists. The city didn’t look quite so appetizing at all from the back of a police car. I was led to a cell and locked behind bars with the last moment of my freedom firmly extinguished.
“Come on Washington. You made bail.” A guard woke me up the next morning and I sat up confused.
“I did?” I asked. “I didn’t even see a judge.”
“I don’t ask questions. I just do what they tell me. Come on.” He motioned for me to follow him.
The whole thing seemed strange, but I was happy to be free. I hoped I would turn the corner to that Sarah had come to her senses or even see my mother with tears in her eyes and a welcoming embrace. When I finally got processed out and released into the main lobby, I didn’t see anyone I recognized. As I looked around, a man approached me and cleared his throat. I turned to see a man who stood nearly six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and a suit stitched to his frame like it was sewn on while he was already standing.
