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TRACK 15 - PART 2

With (NO) love, Tyler-Jane Roberts

"Because she's dead to me."

Another dreadful pause of silence. I desperately wished I could take back what I just said. I could imagine what he was thinking right now. He probably thought I was even more insane than he originally thought. Pretending my very much alive mother was actually dead; it felt ripped right out of a bad movie.

"TJ?" The sound of Carter's voice pulled me back into reality. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, noticing the look of concern he had. Either he was being genuine or he should consider taking up acting. Something deep down inside told me to trust him. To tell him. He was the one that deserved to know. For his sake, of course.

If Carter was someone else, someone who had grown up the same way I had, maybe I wouldn't be so cautious to tell him. In my area, my upbringing was a dime in a dozen. It was more likely to grow up the way I did than in a loving household.

"I don't really know how to start," I said, more to myself than to him. "I don't want to make this a long, sappy story."

Carter leaned forward, placing his hand over top mine. "You don't have to say anything."

"I do." For you. "Her name's Kathy. To put it lightly, she had some issues she was struggling with and I don't think having me around helped," I began. "The only time I can remember her saying anything about my dad was when she was drunk. She would talk about how quickly they fell in love and when she got pregnant, he begged her to keep it - me. He told her he would always be there for her, and well, I guess me. But he left a few weeks after I was born and she never heard from him again."

I paused, wondering how or why it was so easy for the words to come right out, despite how painful the memories were to think about. This was what I hated the most when talking about things like this; I had to remember everything I had done a good job of burying deep down. Yet, here I was, telling someone for the first time.

"When I was little, obviously I didn't know how shit she was at being a parent. I mean, it couldn't have been easy being a single mom. But as time went on, she only got worse." I paused for a brief moment to collect my thoughts. "I thought it was normal to not have running water or be able to turn the lights on, and to see her spend all day passed out on the couch instead of going to a job like everyone else's parents. Or, you know, use me as a human ashtray."

I attempted to lighten the mood with a quiet laugh. However, Carter's concerned look instantly silenced me.

"She did what?"

I gave him a nonchalant shrug, pulling up the sleeve of the sweater I had on. "I tried covering them up with some small tattoos," I said, extending my forearm and pointing out a few of the scars. "She only did it when she got really pissed off at me."

Carter's finger gently traced over one of the marks, sending a shiver down my spine. "Is this the worst thing she did to you?"

I bit the inside of my cheek. "Physically, sure."

"Emotionally?"

I took a deep breath, pulling my sleeve back down. "She blamed me for my dad leaving. Would always say shit about how I was never born, my dad would still be with her. That only happened when she got really drunk though. Anything I would say or do set her off. When she started using, things took a weird turn."

"Weird?"

I nodded. "Kathy was decent when she was high. She smiled more and didn't yell at me. Let me eat ice cream for dinner, and as a kid that was the best thing ever." I paused again, realizing I needed to stop trying to soften what I was saying with a touch of humour. "She told me she was sick and taking medicine to help her be better. I believed her. I mean, she sure as hell looked sick. Sometimes she was too weak to take it herself and would get me to help." I looked down at my hand, surprised to see my fingers interlocked with his.