My Regreats

Chapter 7

I was 15 when my world had changed for the better. I had come home from my styles dance class. It had been 3 years since I had stumbled into Passions Studio. When the owner, Michelle, found me in there, she didn't judge me. She sat down and I spilled all of my secrets.

Ever since, I've been taking free dance classes at her studio. In return, I helped find good music for her dances, and helped her clean the studio on Saturday mornings. Being with Michelle was always fun. We would talk and hang out. She was only 10 years older than me. She was like an older sister.

Anyway, I had just came back, sweat hanging off my forehead and leggings. I grabbed a snack and plopped on the couch to finish my homework. Not 5 minutes later, I heard a car drive into the garage, and someone stumble into the door. Then I heard the cab drive away.

Instantly, I knew it was my drunk mother. She always went out in the afternoon, and got drunk. I think it was her way dealing with my dads death. We all had our ways. Mom got drunk, I loved to dance, and Aunt Charley got lost in her job. Some ways, in dealing with depression, were better. I guess that's part of life.

Whenever mom got drunk, she would come stumbling home and forced me to assist her with the pain of hangovers. She would throw up, and demand for pills. The way mom acted did nothing but encourage me to never drink alcohol. All it did was drown the pain for a few hours, only to have the pain replaced with more pain.

When mom walked through the doors, I let out a small gasp.

"Mom, what are you wearing?!?" I asked, shocked by her appearance. Instead of wearing her normal leggings and hoodie, she decided to wear a dress. True, it was a little skimpier, hiking up her thigh and hugging her body, considering that Mom was in her 30s. Still, she almost looked pretty.

However, the image of prettiness was destroyed, due to the gallons of makeup smeared on her face and knotted up hair. She looked like she had been through a car wreck. Instead of looking pretty, she just looked trashy.

"How do I look?" Mom asked, posing for me like a fashion model. She had a smug look on her face.

"Trashy," I replied, as if it were the most obvious thing isn't the world, which it was.

"You mean hot?"

"Mom, you look beautiful in everything and anything." I gestured to her getup. "But right now, you look like a desperate drunk looking for a social life! You look awful!" Mom looked almost shocked as I said this. It took her a minute to soak up my words. Then, she turned into the power hungry, vain, selfish person who I didn't know. The person that was most definitely not my mother.

"Well, you may not like the way I look," My mother said rather smugly. I knew it was the alcohol talking. "but in the past week, I've caught the attention of more than one dashing stranger. In fact, I've hit it off with at least 3 or 4 of them." I let out a mixture of a gasp and groan.

"Please don't tell you did what I think you did." I couldn't help but felt a little shocked. My breathe went a little heavy.

"That is none of your business." With that, Mom tapped my nose, and walked away, swishing her hips and stumbling up the stairs. I felt another groan slip from my lips. My mother was officially a drunk.

Not 2 weeks later, my mother told me that she was pregnant. With something so bad, I actually got something good. Because my drunk mother went to a bar in a skimpy dress, Heaven blessed me with the greatest gift. That day, Heaven sent me my angel, Connor.