For the rest of winter break, rather than going to work, Lisa stayed home and lay sprawled-out on the couch. When Amando asked what was going on, Lisa told him she was taking some time off from work. When he asked why, she told him to f*** off.
He imagined Mrs. Daisyshine on that night, polishing and decking her precious 2015 trophy beside all the others in her glass cabinet. He wondered how it felt to have thirty-five of the same trophy; surely just like getting a thirty-five win streak in Kahoot, right?
Lisa proceeded to lay idle on the couch, and everytime Amando passed her, there would be an extra one or two bottles by her side on the floor. It didn't take long for her spot on the couch to grow into her own kind of habitat, reeking of musty alcohol and stale smoke and sadness. And, just as Amando thought, Lisa continued this habit for much longer than a week.
On Valentine's day, Amando noticed Lisa was still lolling in her corner, so he decided to give her the Hershey bar he had received from school earlier that day. Without a word, she latched her thin fingers onto it, tore the candy out of its package, broke into fourths, and piled them into her mouth all at once. Amando watched his mother eagerly as she chewed, as if the chocolate would serve as some kind of magical cure to her everlasting depression, but she just continued to lie there, ignoring the thriving pile of bills and letters on the kitchen counter.
About halfway through March was when Amando noticed his mother began moving around the house more. She would go grab snacks for herself rather than threatening her children to do it for her, check the mail on her own, retrieve Advil and liquor for herself. But what she did most of all was watch Mrs. Daisyshine from the study window.
Everytime Amando found her there, she was always the same: her hair was as messy as a tumbleweed, her bloodshot eyes were ripe with tears, and her lips were chapped and flowing with smoke. She massaged her cigarette between her fingers, twisting the paper like a tomato from a vine before smushing it against the corner of the table and flicking it to the ground.
It was springtime again, meaning it was that time of year when Mrs. Daisyshine would meticulously tend to her marvelous garden. She never seemed to be anywhere else but in her front yard. This efficacious activity made Lisa's expression particularly sour at the window.
"Why does she always have to rub it in my face?" She mumbled acidly to herself, unaware of Amando's presence at the door. She twisted her cigarette between her fingers restlessly.
When Lisa returned to her territory and was taking a nap, Amando decided to talk to his sister about the situation. He snuck quietly upstairs, to her room, and opened the door.
"Hey!" Tamara shouted. "What happened to knocking?!"
"Shhhhh!" Amando demanded, his face burning. He took a peak at Lisa from the stairs. She appeared to still be asleep.
Amando let out a deep sigh.
"Be quiet! Mom's sleeping," Amando whisper-screamed.
"Well, what do you want?"
Amando stepped into her room and closed the door behind him. Tamara was laying stomach-down on her bed, blocky black headphones cupped over her ears. Amando gazed around curiously at the multitude of Paramore and One Direction posters on her walls.
"I'm getting worried about Mom..." Amando expressed. "She seems so sad all the time, and she spends all day on the couch. Do you think there's anything we can do..?"
Tamara shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno. She probably just has a migraine or something. Just leave her alone."
"But she's been doing this since December! It's been, like—" Amando counted on his fingers. "Three months! If she doesn't get better, something bad might happen to her..."
