In A 100 Days

Spilled Wine and tears

Tw: use of alcohol

It's late in the night by the time Valentina drops me off in her car from the graduation party. I walk to my front door, a big smile on my face, and a spring in my step with how happy I am. I didn't see either Jack or Victoria during the celebration since I'd stayed close to the girls the whole time. My hair, curled to perfection for the day hung in messy waves framing my face from all that crazy dancing.

I turn in the house key and step in, closing the door behind me, and immediately take off my high heels, rubbing one sore foot before moving on to massage the other. I curse Damien's name under my breath. That's the last time I let the boy drag me to a dance floor.

I begin walking upstairs to my bedroom when I hear the sound of glass being smashed against a wall. I freeze for a few moments before rushing back downstairs, heading for the living room where the sound came from.

I fling open the closed double doors, and stay rooted to the spot, my eyes widening in shock at the sight before me.

My mother was sitting on a sofa, her head in her hands. A nearly empty bottle of wine on the glass coffee table, and the champagne flute I assume she was drinking from, lay shattered on the floor in front of the wall opposite her.

Her long auburn hair that was always neatly placed in a hair clip or bun, tumbled down to her back, and looked messy, as if she had spent hours running her hands through it. She hadn't changed out of her blouse and pencil skirt that she wore to work today, and her heels lay discarded on the carpet.

I stared at her, at my mom who was always so well put together, well manicured. Who was always rational and confident and always knew what to do in every bad situation. I realised with a deep sadness, that that had now changed.

She looks up at me, and I see that her eyes are red and swollen. She simply stares at me the way you would stare at someone if you thought they looked familiar.

"Hi" I say quietly.

"Hello" She replies, as if having a polite conversation with a stranger.

I cautiously walk up to her, unsure of how she'll react. It's been weeks since we've even had any physical contact. Ever since my parents and I were told that I had mere months left to live, it seemed like they were both doing their best to forget they had a daughter. I don't even remember the last time either of them told me they loved me.

However, as I get closer and closer to where she's sitting on the sofa, she doesn't tell me to stop or even move away. She just stays staring at me, expression confused. I look towards the broken glass shards, and her eyes follow to where mine are.

"I Broke it" She mumbles. I look back at her, checking her all over to make sure she didn't cut herself. I look back into her eyes when I don't see a single scratch.

"Why?" I ask softly. She closes her eyes.

"Because I'm angry. And sad. So sangry. Or angrad?" She giggles before hiccuping.

"How much did you have to drink?". She opens her blue eyes, and pauses for a moment, seeming to think. Then she shrugs.

"Was I meant to count?".

I just shake my head."Do you know where Dad is?" I question. She smiles bitterly.

"Haven't seen him since this morning. He's been staying away for much longer than usual. I don't know if he's still at his office, or some mistress's house". I wince at her words. It was true that Dad had started coming home at around midnight or later now. But I don't want to believe the worst. I don't need my heart broken any more than it already is.