My Chemistry Tutor

CHAPTER 8

LISA'S POV

When my shift is finally over, I head home exhausted, dragging my feet up the familiar stairwell.

As soon as I step into the apartment, the heavy smell of alcohol hits me. I find my mom and her shitty boyfriend passed out on the couch in the living room, empty bottles scattered on the table.

I sigh quietly and tiptoe around them, careful not to wake either of them, and head straight back into my room.

I take a long, hot shower, trying to wash off the smell of grease from work and the exhaustion clinging to my body. Afterward, I slip into my pajamas and collapse on my bed.

For a moment, I contemplate studying, so I grab my textbook and flip through the pages. But after scanning a few lines and realizing none of it makes sense to my tired brain, I decide against it.

I'm not in the mood to feel like an idiot right now not when I know I wouldn't understand anything anyway.

I leave my room and walk back into the living room. By then, my mom is groggily getting up, her hair a tangled mess, her face pale and unfocused.

She glances at me for a moment, but it's not really at me. That's the thing about my mom it's like she's always looking through you, never really seeing you.

I walk over and offer her my hand to help her up. She reeks of alcohol and cigarette smoke as she stumbles past me into the kitchen. She opens the fridge and pulls out another beer.

"Mom, it's late. Just go to sleep, please," I beg softly, my voice trembling.

"Don't tell me what to do. I'm your mother! I tell you what to do!" she slurs, her words heavy and broken.

"Mom, you know you can't drink when you're on antidepressant medication. It's dangerous, you could get sick," I say, my patience thinning, my chest aching from repeating this same warning again and again.

"So what if I die? At least I'll be happy drinking my beer," she mutters bitterly, twisting the cap open.

"Mom, please... give me the bottle," I plead, reaching for it.

"No!" she yells, shoving me back with surprising force.

Her eyes narrow. "Stop. You're a good for nothing daughter. You're pathetic!"

"Mom..." I whisper, my voice breaking as her words slice through me.

"Don't 'Mom' me, you bitch! Get out of my sight and let me drink in peace!" she snaps, storming back toward the living room.

My chest tightens, and I feel a lump in my throat. I force myself not to cry not here, not in front of her. I can't let her see what she does to me.

I walk back into my room with my head held high, pretending I'm unaffected. But the second I close the door behind me, I lock it and collapse to the floor, curling into a ball. And then the tears finally spill out, hot and unrelenting.

Why is she always like this? Why does she always treat me like I'm nothing?

Can't she realize that she shouldn't be treating her only daughter this way?

I do everything for her. She barely makes any money from her job, and she wastes what little she gets on drinking. I work long hours to pay the rent, to buy food for her and her shitty boyfriend a man who doesn't contribute a damn thing.

I'm the one who cleans the house. I'm the one who cooks. I'm the one who makes sure she's okay.

I'm the one who holds everything together. But no one ever does the same for me.

No one ever notices that my life is a complete shit show. No one has ever tried to help me before.

When my dad left, I was only ten years old.

Who does that? Who just abandons their child?

I thought my dad was a good person. I thought he was caring and loving. But I was wrong. He betrayed me. He left me and my mom. He walked out and never looked back.

He said it was because he couldn't deal with my mom and her depression. But he left me with her. He left me to handle it. He packed his bag, walked out the door, and I never saw him again.

Since then, I've been the one to take care of her. But after he left, her depression only got worse.

She's tried to kill herself more than once, pills, cutting... Do you know how terrifying that is for a child to witness? To have to be the one keeping your own mother alive?

I love her. I do. But sometimes... sometimes I wish I could just leave. But the thought alone fills me with guilt. If I left, she would have no one.

My grandparents are gone. My aunt and uncle want nothing to do with her. It's just us. We're completely alone. And I don't know how much more of this we can take.

What's going to happen when I graduate high school? Am I even going to get the chance to go to college? Or will I have to keep working even more hours just to keep us afloat?

I can't leave my mom. I just can't. I can't go to another state for college. Hell, I can't even go somewhere that's more than a few hours away. Because the truth is, I'm terrified of what she might do if I'm not here.

Is this what my life is going to be like forever? Is this all there is?

Finally, drained and trembling, I crawl into bed. I bury my face in my pillow, tears still streaming down my cheeks as sleep refuses to come.

Then suddenly, I hear the ping of a notification. I grab my phone from the nightstand, my heart skipping when I see her name.

A text message from Jennie.

Hey Lisayah, I know it's late, but I just wanted to ask if you want to study a little bit on Saturday. I know you work late, but you can come over afterward and we can study for like an hour or two. So, yeah, just text me back when you can. And I get it if you don't want to do it.

The text brings an unexpected smile to my face, small but real. I quickly type back

That sounds like a good idea. See you then, Jennie.

Her reply comes almost instantly.

That's awesome.

I set my phone down, but before I can turn it off, another text comes through.

Just wanted to say goodnight. Goodnight, don't let the bed bugs bite, Lisayah.

I grin at the screen, my chest warming in a way it hasn't in a long time.

Good night, love.

I can't stop the smile growing on my face as I put my phone away.

Jennie is such an amazing person.