Life Of The Party

Chapter 2

Dori, Lauren – both now Jason’s ex – and I are in Dori’s and my room, eating ice-cream and laughing about what we’d just done. We’d messed up Jason’s truck pretty bad. Let’s just say he won’t be able to drive his precious Suburban for a while.

After taking the baseball bat to his truck – I always have that handy; never know when you’ll need to bash a cheating boyfriend’s car or beat someone’s ass – Lauren decided to come back to the dorm with us, needing to drown her sorrows. I suggested missing class and gorging on Rocky Road ice-cream and Dori and Lauren both jumped on the idea.

We sped past a screaming Jason, who had knelt next to his ruined baby, crying, and stopped by the campus store to pick up our indulgence of choice. Lauren had officially become our friend, a light at the end of a cheating tunnel.

“And when you said, “Come any closer and it’s your ‘nads”?” Lauren quotes, snorting as she laughs. “Fucking genius, Esme!”

“His hands came down immediately to cover his baby jewels!” Dori screeches in laughter and we all fall apart at her name for his balls.

“Oh, my God! Shouldn’t guys have big, noticeable balls? His are so small and cute! You just wanna flick ‘em!” Lauren adds, her heartbreak and Rocky Road long forgotten.

I am really uninterested in hearing about Jason's tiny balls. I don't see the need in badmouthing an ex anyway. I mean, you were with the douche, small balls and all, why is it suddenly a problem because he's a cheating motherfucker?

"We need to get into some trouble, girls," I suggest, changing the subject. Dori looks at me with apologetic eyes, knowing I hate ex-bashing. I'd much prefer a physical bashing - as was the case today - than a verbal one. I don't do arguments anyway.

"Sounds fun!" Lauren exclaims. "What's the plan?" She leans forward as if we're planning a coup...and, really, three hot women up to no good? It all spells trouble if you ask me.

********

"Hey, mom," I answer sweetly as I pick up my ringing cell. It's 7:01p.m. a minute later than the time my mother usually calls.

Me, Dori and Lauren had gotten up to some shenanigans earlier, strip cheering for our college baseball team as they had their practice. Afterwards, we'd all wound down and had lunch at Barbarella's, a little Italian restaurant a few blocks off campus, where things heated up. At least, for me they did. The other two gloomy Glendas were just too heartbroken to move on so quickly. Love 'em and leave 'em, I say; but apparently, that's not very "womanly" of me. Eh, whatever.

Us and the baseball team had parted ways with promises to meet up later that night. I've already got my eyes on two of them. I just hope they know how to swing...

"Essie, you hear me?" my Mom calls out.

I realize that I've drifted off and I wipe the playful smirk off my face before answering, "Yeah, mommy, sorry about that. Just distracted by some homework." If I had a nose like Pinocchio's, that bitch would be the size of a James Deen's stiff peen...just from today alone.

"As if I'm borned tomorrow," mom mutters. She always could pick up when I've been lying.

For every single day of my twenty, almost twenty one, years of existence, it has been just me and my mother. She's dated - because, c'mon, my mom's a fox - but those relationships always seemed to fizzle out to nothing after a few weeks. I never knew a father, even though I knew who he was. This forced me and Mom closer together because we only had each other. She knows me inside and out, knows my mannerisms and tells, and is my best friend, even closer than Dori and I are.

"Wassup, Mom?" I ask, balancing the phone between my shoulder and neck as I search for an outfit for tonight. We're meeting the guys at a frat party tonight.

"I was just telling you that I miss you," she says.

This has been the topic of conversation for the last few weeks. It makes me so worried about her, as if she's not coping with me being gone. I've told her to go out and date but she's just from work to home. Not much of a life, if you ask me.

"Mom, you're such a hottie, why don't you go out with your coworkers?" I suggest, again, as I pull out a black, sleeveless playsuit with lace in between the breasts down to the navel and lace at the sides. Just enough nudity to entice.

"Baby, their idea of a fun night is bingo or karaoke," she grumbles. "I'd no sooner have more fun at a nursing home."

I laugh, almost dropping the phone. My mother is so funny.

"Well, I've told you to let me set you up on one of those dating sites..."

"Absolutely not," she refuses vehemently. Jeez... "I'm not desperate, I just miss my daughter. Is that so bad?" her voice takes on a forlorn tone and my senses prickle with concern.

"Mom, is everything okay?" I question, moving to sit on my bed, shifting clothes I'd already strewn out on the duvet out of the way. I can be a little messy Bessy.

"Yes, baby, just had a long day at work," she answers, her voice sounding weary.

"Mom, you need a vacation. We should plan one for Spring Break," I suggest.

"Oh no, Esme, that's your time to have fun," she dismisses.

"Mom, I always have fun."

"I hope you mean with your classes, young lady," she warns.

"Huh? Of course, Mom, I always get straight A's." Which really is true. No matter the crap I pull on a daily basis, the fun I have, I am doing very well at college.

"Well, keep your head in them books, my little college girl." My Mom never got to go to college and have the full college experience. She did online courses at the local community college and got herself a diploma in business administration which was good enough to land her a great job as a secretary. A mundane job compared to the wild life my Mom led previously as a groupie to our town's first rock band, Shuttercock.

She had been in love with the band's lead singer once, but when she got pregnant with me, she left that old life, preferring one less debasing, one less dramatic. I was all the drama she needed anyway. I had gotten into more boy trouble to blow her groupie shenanigans out of the water. Poor Mom, she didn't deserve my shit.

Sometimes I wondered if she was proud of me.

"I will," I promise her, because if it's the last thing I do, I will make her proud to call me her daughter.

"I love you, Esme, so much," she declares, her voice breaking.

Tears mist my eyes and I take in a huge gulp of air. She is my kryptonite. "Momma," I whisper, tears leaking down my face. "I love you, too."

"Oh, my beautiful girl, don't cry," she hushes. "You are my sun, and the sun doesn't cry."

She always called me that - her sun, her ray of sunshine. I loved when she did; shit made me feel special.

"And you're my air, momma," I confess. "I would seize to exist without you."

Mom chokes back a sob before demanding, "Promise me, Esme, promise that whatever happens to me you will continue living."

Her request takes me off guard and cold fingers of fear grip my throat and squeeze. "Mom, what's wrong? Is there something wrong and you're not telling me?"

There are times when you see the writing on the wall and you are blinded to it because of fear. It is such a crippling disease, as treacherous as cancer. I didn't want to believe there was anything wrong. I couldn't bear it if there was anything wrong. In my eyes, my mother was perfectly fine, only that she missed me a lot. I didn't even want to think that my absence was causing her any sadness and that's why I kept trying to get her to go out, to start dating. I feared that she wasn't doing well without me but I pushed it aside. Maybe because I was selfish, maybe because, truly, I couldn't deal with it if she wasn't.

So I believe her when she says, "I'm fine, baby. Just missing you is all."