The Struggle Of Our Lives

Chapter 1, continued.

Her beautiful dark chocolate eyes were slightly bloodshot as she smiled lightly and responded "What do we have?"

"Well, It's just passed lunch time, so how about PB and J?" I asked her. Before she could say anything, Theo dropped his airplane and raised his hand going "OOH OOH, I WANT ONE. But no jelly." I laughed at him as he quickly went back to zooming the plane around. "Can I have two?" Char asked me. "Two pieces folded in half? Or two whole PBJ's??"

I wanted to clarify so I didn't have to eat her leftovers. The kitchen had gone silent and I heard steps coming from the living room up to the attic where John's bedroom was. 'I suppose the fight is over, meaning the coast is clear', I thought.

"Two wholes. Momma didn't make breakfast today." My eyes widened when I realized the last time they ate was last night at 7.

I grumbled to myself, wishing Greg would take enough time out of his day to make his kids food if his wife wasn't going to. "Sure thing, sun spot. I'll be back in a sec."

"Oh, and I don't want jelly either."

I moved my legs out from under me and put my hands on my knees to push myself into a standing position. My knees felt like they broke as I did this. Theo laughed at the sound and said something along the lines of "God, you're old."

I turned around and walked back through the living room into the kitchen where I saw Mom drinking scotch out of the bottle.

Greeeaat, I whined, internally.

I guess she could feel me looking at her because she turned and gave me her signature stink eye. "What." It sounded more like a statement than a question, meaning I caught her at a bad time.. again.

"Nothing, just making some sandwiches for the kids."

She ignored my comment and went back to drinking. She stopped only when she saw I put four pieces of bread on one plate and two on the other. "Why are you getting two?" she stabbed. I was scared to answer, knowing she'd blow up at me. "I'm hungry too, so I'm making myself one." I lied.

"It's for Charlotte, isn't it." she scoffed. "Why do you both eat so much of my fucking food." I didn't answer, realizing she'd take anything I said to use it against me. "That fat ass." she mumbled as she took a large swig of the liquor.

I stopped spreading the peanut butter on Char's second sandwich and stabbed the knife back into the jar. I was so angry that I didn't think of the consequences and turned to my mother. I spat, "What's your deal? It's just one extra sandwich."

She stopped drinking again and this time slammed the bottle on the counter. She pivoted and got right next to my face. I could feel my heart beating in my throat like my organs had re-positioned themselves to keep me from talking.

"Excuse me?" she started.

Oh no.

"What the fuck did you just say to me? What's my deal???" She emphasized. I really fucked up this time.

"You kids already take so much goddamn money to feed, and now she's eating twice as much?! HOW DO YOU EXPECT US TO PAY FOR  THAT?!" she demanded.

"I DON'T KNOW" I retaliated, "HOW ABOUT YOU GO GET A JOB INSTEAD OF RELYING ON GREG FOR EVERYTHING!"

"EXCUSE ME?!" By now, John had heard the commotion and came downstairs to investigate. He stepped in between us and faced our mother.

"Leave her alone. They're hungry. Be thankful they're not asking you to drive them to Kirby's or something." God, I love Kirby's. That restaurant had the best soups. My daydream quickly fell away when my mother shoved John away from her.

She mumbled a few obscenities and drank some more from her bottle before sulking away. John turned around and looked over at the plates I had made.

"Do you want one too?" he asked me softly. I shook my head, this whole experience really killed my appetite. He looked again at the plates then walked past me back into his room.

He was in there  a lot, and I missed seeing him. I'd never admit that to him, however. I couldn't blame him, our family was a lot to deal with.

I finished making the sandwiches and walked back into my bedroom. I glanced over at Greg as he was snoring loudly on the couch.

Asshole.

I returned to my room and handed off the plates to my two beautiful miracles. They each took their plate and thanked me before setting down their toys and munching on the sandwiches. They both looked so tired, like they hadn't slept in a month. I made a mental note to take them out to the park to tire them out some time.

"Why did mommy yell at you, Terry?" Tedd asked. I didn't want them to feel bad so I lied again. "Oh, I stepped on her foot." The two made little "Ohhh" sounds and went back to eating.

My mother had long made snide comments about how much food I ate growing up, and it had made me really insecure. She always compared me to other girls my age and my teammates in gymnastics. I didn't want that for the twins but she's still bugged them about it.

I couldn't bare to see her treat them the way she treated me and John. I tried my best to give them everything I never had. Warm blankets, bedtime stories, extra food, cuddles when they wanted them. I wanted to raise them better than our own mother had. It hurt to think about how messed up John must be, since he's dealt with her shit for 17 years now with nobody to stand up for him.

Plus, with his lack of meds and teachers completely ignoring his requests for help, I knew then that I really didn't envy him.

I wish Mom would treat him better..