It was eleven o’ clock on a Friday night, and I was stuck at home. The only thing worse than the current situation, was that my mother had somewhere to go. When your own mother has more of a social life then you, something’s not right.
I watched as she draped her only diamond necklace across her tanned chest. It was the prettiest piece of jewelry she owned, and she wore it often. At the moment, it worked well with her low-cut top. Layers of make-up, bottles of blonde hair dye, and an ensemble that came straight from my closest made her look like an entirely different person. If I were to bump into her at the supermarket, I would never guess that she was the mother of a sixteen-year-old girl. In fact, I would guess her to be in her mid-twenties.
Don’t get me wrong - my mother is unbelievably young (for a mom), but she’s not in her twenties. She’s actually 32, and yes, she had me at an extremely young age. Supposedly, when my mother was a sophomore in high school, she was a ‘knockout’. She hung out with an older group of people, ran around town doing the wrong things, and ended up becoming pregnant by some college guy, who she never saw again after the night they‘d met. That’s not exactly how her depiction of the story goes, but I can infer that what I think happened is closer to the truth.
“How do I look Jo?” She asked, turning away from the mirror to give me a better view. I shrugged. “Fine, but it’s cold out. You’d better put on pants. Where are you going?” I knew she looked great, fabulous even, but I was in no mood to feed her compliments.
She smiled, and twirled in a circle so that the ends of her skirt fanned out around her. Sometimes she reminded me more of a younger sister than of a mother, and it drove me insane. Then she slid out of the skirt and into a pair of pants.
“Oh.. Just out!” Her eyes and facial expression were begging for me to ask her again, to bug her for details of the night and a description of her current ‘fling’. I didn’t give in, but she proceeded to tell me anyways.
“Oh Jo, he’s handsome! A dentist, prettiest smile I’ve ever seen! We’re going for drinks at Delaney’s. I think this is the one, Jo, I really hope it works out!” I rolled my eyes, and her obvious excitement disappeared.
“You said that about the lawyer, the surgeon, the travel agent, and the zoo keeper;” I rattled off. “Don’t get your hopes up. Besides, are you sure he doesn’t have a wife?”
She slammed her perfume bottle down onto the vanity with such force that I feared it would shatter.
“That wasn’t funny Jolene - he doesn’t have a wife, you know I wouldn‘t do that! Daniel was going through a rough time, he was practically divorced aside from the signing of the papers! Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong with you! What did I do to make you hate me?” A tear began to form and she quickly blinked it back before it could disturb her mascara. Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the room.
Daniel Morris was the zoo-keeper, and he was also the father of one of my fourth grade classmates. Lydia Morris, the nicest girl in Mrs. Thompson’s class, had arranged for her father to give our class a presentation at the zoo. My mother, who was out of work at the time, had agreed to be a chaperone. Somehow during the trip, the two managed to exchange numbers and began seeing each other in secret. Daniel had a wife, and although they were having marital problems at the time, it gave my mother no excuse to step in and become a member of his pity party.
It was the Northwood Elementary Christmas musical, and I was preparing for my big number, “Santa’s Coming To Town”. I glanced out at the crowd, and began to beam when I saw my mother actually in attendance, seated right in the very front row. I figured that since the musical took place on a precious Friday night, my mother would have had better things to do.
“Hi mommy!” I had mouthed, before clearing my throat. Then all of a sudden, just as Mrs. Thompson began to play the piano, I noticed a commotion. Daniel had walked up the aisle with Lydia’s mother’s hand in his own. It was obvious that their problems were not as serious as my mother had thought.
I don’t know what was said, but I do know that my mother had opened her mouth. Soon their was cursing, and crying, and even a few incidents of slapping (directed at Daniel, of course).Despite Lydia’s parents recent reconciliation, divorce papers were signed the next day.
Daniel never called my mother after the divorce. Lydia never played with me at recess. When it was her birthday, she made sure that she was one cupcake short, and I was the last to be served. The Zoo field trip was the last trip that my mother was asked to chaperone. In fact, she was banned from all Northwood functions for the remainder of the school year. I never got to sing my solo, and now every time I hear “Santa’s Coming To Town,” I want to scream.
I sighed. Hating my mother wasn’t the issue, but having a mother was.
***
“Jo! Baby, I’m home!” The instant I heard our apartment door slam shut, and the loudness of her voice, I knew she’d been drinking, but until I actually got out of bed to check on her, I didn’t know how much.
“Baby doll, I brought back your favorite,” she slurred as she held out a Styrofoam box which crashed to the floor, revealing Delaney’s mozzarella sticks. “Whoops, I’ll get those.” I watched as she crouched down to the floor, trying with everything she had to keep her balance. It was pathetic.
I surveyed the damage. Her once perfect curls were now dangling down the back of her neck. Her cheeks were red, but at the same time, she looked awfully pale. Now for the hardest part - the part I always dreaded the most; I closed my eyes tightly shut and then quickly opened them glancing at the zipper of her pants. I gave a sigh of relief when I saw that it was still zipped tightly shut. There had been times when she’d come home too drunk to cover up the evidence, and those were the times that she hurt me the worst.
Finally, I did notice something extremely out of place. “Mom! Where’s your necklace!” She jerked her head up with a shocked expression and slid her hand across her chest.
“Oh Jo! It - It’s Gone!” She left the mozzarella sticks scattered across the living room floor and staggered to her room. I heard the cheap mattress give a creak as she flopped onto her bed and began to cry. She’d had her diamond necklace as long as I could remember, and I knew it meant a lot to her.
She’d dropped out of high school to have me, and her parents hadn’t given her much support. It’d always been just us two, aside from an occasional boyfriend, but they never stayed long. It was hard for her to find a decent job without a college degree, so we were always living moment by moment. Her diamond necklace was the only thing she had to remind her of the possibilities in life. I knew she felt as if the only hope she’d ever had was gone.
I piled the mozzarella sticks into the box and set them on the kitchen counter. Then I pulled the lid off of the garbage can and dragged it into her room, settling it just beside her bed. I clipped her hair up high on top of her head, and gently massaged her back.
“It’s okay. Maybe it’ll turn up someplace? Are you sure you didn’t leave it in his car?”
She shook her head. “No, Jo, I didn’t. I didn’t even get in his car. He never showed up!” She shivered, and I wrapped my arms gently around her waste, pressing my face into her back as if I were five all over again. She’d walked the five blocks to Delaney’s, and I had no clue how she’d survived the five blocks back.
I didn’t wonder for too long. Soon she had jerked away from me, depositing her drinks into the waste basket. Swallowing heard and attempting not to breath I went to fill her a glass of water and to start a cold shower. Sadly, it was not the first time we had gone through this drill.
Once she was settled back in bed, I slid my hand into her purse and revealed her cigarettes and lighter. I pulled on my jacket and sat on the balcony, pressing one against my lips and inhaling it’s toxins.
I was sixteen, for Christ’s sake. I wasn’t ready to be someone’s mother! My hand shook as I carefully ashed the cigarette, weaning it down to a mere butt. Then my eyes welled up with tears as I realized, she was sixteen, and she hadn’t been ready either.
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