Teaching | Eddie Munson

The Gift

Victoria took off her hoodie and sneakers and headed straight to the kitchen. As she walked, a dim light from the TV caught her attention. She turned to see Susan asleep on the couch, beer cans scattered around her, letting out quiet snores. Sighing, Victoria approached her, standing over the woman for a few moments, tears welling in her eyes.

Seeing Max's mom brought a torrent of emotions crashing over her. She felt a deep-seated hatred for the way Susan was ruining Max's life, seemingly oblivious to the damage she was causing. Or perhaps she did know and simply didn't care, which was even more infuriating. Not a single day passed when Victoria saw Susan completely sober; she sometimes wondered if the woman was perpetually drunk. Max was at an age when she needed her mother the most—even if she didn't realize it.

Victoria recalled her own teenage years, convinced she was fine without her mother. Now, she understood how the absence of maternal love had left her deeply scarred. It seemed Susan had forgotten she was Max's only biological family. Though Victoria treated Max like a sister, blood was still blood, and the reality of their family dynamic loomed large.

This realization brought a wave of disgust. Victoria couldn't remember a time when Susan was sober; she only knew the neglectful, drunken version of her. Perhaps Susan had once been a loving mother, but those memories seemed to have evaporated. Victoria didn't care that Susan treated her with indifference or that her eyes were often empty or filled with hatred when they did meet. She didn't need Susan's approval or love; there was someone under this very roof who did—Max. Victoria blamed Susan for neglecting her daughter, for failing to give Max the love she deserved, and for turning her teenage years into a nightmare.

And yet, standing there over Susan, Victoria felt other emotions bubbling to the surface—gratitude among them. Despite everything, Susan had taken her in without expecting anything in return. Victoria knew Susan had been hurt by her father; she knew him well enough to see that he never treated her right. Susan didn't have to let her stay, yet she did. Because of that, Victoria had only lost one sibling, not two—and for that, she would always be grateful.

Through her tears, Victoria smiled and gently covered the sleeping woman with a blanket. She turned off the TV but nearly jumped when she heard a voice behind her.

"Vic? What are you doing?" Max stood in the doorway, eyeing her sister suspiciously, as if Victoria were about to harm the sleeping woman.

Victoria quickly wiped her tears, hoping Max wouldn't notice, but her expression shifted, and she rushed over to wrap her arms around Victoria. Sighing, Victoria returned the embrace.

"You okay?" Max asked softly, glancing at their mother on the couch.

"I don't think so." Victoria replied, shaking her head.

Max took her hand and led her to their bedroom. They both sat on Victoria's bed, and the older girl raised her head to look at Max, who remained quiet, patiently waiting for Victoria to speak when she was ready. She knew pushing wouldn't help; it would only make Victoria withdraw further.

After a few minutes of silence, Victoria finally broke it. "I thought I had come to terms with the whole situation." She hesitated, referring to Billy's death without naming it directly. "I thought my therapy had helped, that I made peace with it and with myself. But now it's happening all over again—the dreams, the mood swings, the inability to deal with my emotions." She buried her face in her hands, elbows resting on her knees.

"Well, I'm not your therapist and don't have a license, but I can share what I've noticed, if that's okay..." Max said gently. Victoria nodded, appreciating her sister's support.

Max continued, "When you came back, you were still hurting, but you had accepted what happened. You seemed at peace and ready to live on. Now, it feels like you're not acknowledging that Billy passed away. It's as if you're pretending he never existed, and it's hard to watch. The person you're hurting the most is yourself." She looked at Victoria, whose gaze drifted towards the window, deep in thought.