Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
The last time I saw my mother, she was tall and so beautiful in my eyes. Nothing in this world made me feel so loved and cared for, like she had, but I was finally able to see her and all those happy memories were replaced by this lowly person, a shadow of her formal self. I walked over to the table and sat down, the chair scraping the marble floors, the only sound that filled the eerily quiet room. I sat there waiting, while my mother hesitated, not knowing how to react to me.
“I made your favorite food. Macaroni and cheese.” She smiled nervously as she sat down. I looked down at a bowl filled with cool, congealed noodles.
“I don’t eat this anymore,” I said coldly. From the moment she left, I never let anyone ever make it for me. It just reminded me too much of her. When I was younger, I’d sit on the large counter waiting happily as she told me stories, making me laugh with her impressions.
“You don’t like it anymore?” she said sadly, her eyes filling with silent tears.
“It’s fine. I’ll eat it,” I muttered as I picked up the fork and began pushing the food around.
“You were so little when I left. You grew up so handsomely,” she started.
“Why didn’t you take me with you?” I blurted out.
“Daimon, I- I’m a pitiful person, not worthy to be your mother.” Her words were laced with self-loathing.
“You’re my mother. I needed you. I still need you,” I said pained, my heart shattering. Fuck me, I was eighteen acting like a little kid.
“Daimon…”
“Why can’t you stop fucking drinking? Why can’t you just be my mother and look after me?” I berated her. I looked up to see her face serene, like she was accepting my bitter words.
“Daimon, there is one thing in my life that I did right and that was giving birth to you…” She hesitated but finally smiled softly. “When I was filled with sadness, you made me smile. When your father would hurt me, you would mend my heart, and when all those around us would whisper behind my back, your laughter drowned them out. Daimon, you are my greatest and proudest accomplishment. But I am weak, a broken person, unworthy of such a wonderful son like you, because Daimon, no matter how much you were there for me, I could not be there for you. I could not stop the hurt inside. I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry. Daimon. I’m so sorry. ” She cried as she smiled, trying to seem strong, when all the fucking while she was falling into a million fucking pieces.
“So I wasn’t enough?” I started to cry, ignoring the tears trickling out of my eyes.
“No, Daimon, it was me who wasn’t enough. To me, you were all I had. All I’ve ever had. I was starting to be a burden to you. How could I do that to my precious son?” she asked, wiping her tears.
“Stop drinking,” I said forcefully, but all she did was smile serenely, watching me through her unshed tears. “I need to go.” I stood up quickly, my anger beyond anything I ever felt before.
“I’ll be here whenever you want to see me.” She sat still, looking down to her shaky hands. She wanted a drink. I could see it.
I ran out of there unable to stand the sight of her. I headed to the elevator and punching the down arrow. I held onto to the wall, bracing myself. I tried fighting it, the ache I felt. I walked backward hitting the wall behind me. Sliding down, silently crying, I felt like I had lost her completely. She was no longer this vibrant, soulful person. She was lost, gone, no longer the mother I had dreams of since the day she left.
****
I sat on my motorcycle with my arms crossed. I hadn’t seen Addie since graduation. I guessed she had left for Yale. I had no idea why I went there, but I wanted to tell her I had seen my mother, but then again, she didn’t know anything about me. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted her to make it all better somehow. My mother, I had finally seen her after searching for her. My father wouldn’t tell me a fucking thing about my mother. I just hated the way he spoke about her. I hated the very words he used to describe her, as though she was nothing but a disgusting human. Addie was no longer here. She was no longer mine to control.
Once I arrived home, I stayed clear of the step-mommy and my asshole father. I entered my room ready to play my violin. I opened the case...the fucker had broken it. I collapsed onto my desk chair looking around at my luggage. I was leaving tomorrow, and I was never going to look back.