50 Days Of Grey (#Wattys2015)

{ t h r e e } : nervous breakdown

iii: Brusque

❝blunt in manner or speech often to the point of ungracious harshness❞

Day [1.5]

I dreamt of you that day. I didn't expect to dream of you though... It was always her who haunted my dreams and I knew you knew that. But, I dreamt of you that day. We were at that small park, the one that we always went to because it was private and no one really knew about it. We were having a picnic and I was lying down eating grapes and staring at the cloud filled sky. You blocked my vision and your hair showed it's mahogany color, shinning at the edges. Your eyes sparkled with amusement as I stared at you and a gracious smile graced your lips. It was the day before that day, I'd remembered, it was one of the best days.

You collapsed back on the grass staring at the sky with me and it ended. For once in a long time I woke up at peace. There were no tears, there were no sweat, for once I felt normal again.

I got out of bed and after brushing my hair I walked out into the hall. A door was open, and by my memory it was the door to the guest room. The room was breathtaking and I remembered that we used to stay there and just talk... I stopped at the door. I looked inside and I saw her. Mom. A turband was wrapped around her hairless head. She was rocking on the rocking chair we used to take turns sitting at. Her eyes were lifeless, her body frail and fragile looking. She was thin. She was pale, and bruises peeked from the sleeve of her once fitting shirt.

All emotion drained from my body. I didn't feel anything. I walked towards her chair. She didn't turn her head, nor acknowledged me. She was emotionless, she didn't seem to care I came all the way from New York to see her. Or maybe she never thought of it. I sat on the bed taking her in as she continued to read a book I wasn't familiar with.

I stayed like that, just staring at her for awhile before she talked.

"Leave." That was the only word she'd uttered.

I never knew she could ever say that to me. She'd spent the past four years trying to convince me to come back, to visit her. I'd always thought she just got tired of trying to convince me... Now I don't know. Her lifeless, dull eyes turned away from the book she was holding and she looked up and stared at me.

"I said, leave." She said calmly. 

"M-Mom." I called, finally gaining enough strength to call her.

"Tell your father I'm fine and I don't need to be checked up on," She said, "And now that your job is done here you can now leave... And never come back. Like you want to. Now leave." She finished.

I stood up and kneeled in front of the rocking chair then, my eyes filling with tears, "Mom... Don't be like this... I'm here now. I-I won't leave..." I said as the tears streamed down my face. 

These were on of those moments I wanted Mom to hug me and kiss my forhead. I missed those days before she started to get drunk, before everything went downhill. I missed the days when she would have me sit between her legs on the bed and she'd brush my hair.

"No, I want you to leave. Go." She said.

"No." I said shaking my head clinging to her lap. 

She clenched her teeth, her lips set in a straight line.

"Your hurting her." I looked up and I saw you staring at me from the door frame, your face emotionless and I wanted you to care again... I wanted you to care when I cried again. 

I let go of Mom's lap and stumbled back. You diverted your gaze to mom.

"Beth it's time for your medicine." You told mom walking to her with a tray of water and a couple of bottles of medicine.