𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁࿐ ྂ ᴊᴇꜰꜰ ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇʏ

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ᴇɪɢʜᴛ

POLLY HAD ALWAYS STRUGGLED WITH FEELING LIKE HER LIFE WAS AT A STANDSTILL.

It seemed like everyone else had interesting, new things happening whilst she had her normal, daily schedule and a nine-to-five. Which she wasn't complaining about, her pictures were on albums, on promotional billboards, and even in bigger magazines like Spin or Rolling Stone. Maybe it was just that her mind operated in a fast manner, appreciating her early college days of club and barhopping until four in the morning more than an unexciting routine.

Brooke was off in California, recording yet another movie, that was interesting. And of course, Jeff had all his music things going on. Polly was just there, watching it all happen. She was content enough to not let any of that bother her seriously, that was due mostly to Jeff. Whether he spontaneously met her after work and guided her to a picnic in Central Park, shared his journal entries with her, or even just a new song he played for her.  It all meant the world to her, especially at times when her days seemed to drone on and on.

She was sad because she couldn't write him a song about how much everything meant as he did with her. She was never great at articulating feelings, and Jeff wore his on both sleeves. It was frustrating, but at the same time, Jeff completed her.

She looked out her frosty window as he stirred in her bed, it was the morning after Christmas, still at her old home. Polly's throat was dry and her hands cold as she messed with them out of nervous habit. The day was the day she had promised her mother to meet her for lunch. It would be the first time in years they even spoke, other than the phone call to arrange the afternoon.

Growing up Polly was under Mabel's constant scrutiny of her every move, her prying eyes that accompanied her judgemental stare. Sure, she hadn't been the best child, but she'd always gotten good grades, even in her years of constant sneaking out and frat parties. But according to her mother, she could always do better in school, do her hair in a way that flattered her face shape, and dress cleaner.

Her mother, the sloppy drunk who ruined Polly's birthdays, and her relationships. Her mother, the cheater. Really, she hadn't ever had the right to judge her eldest daughter, but she did so anyways. So, Polly made a vow to herself that during lunch, she wouldn't let her criticize her life, anything about it.

Polly brought her hand to the glass of the window of the cab, it was icy cold as sleet fell down on the road. Jeff could tell how bothered she was by the lunch, by her mother. He knew when she felt things as strong as she did there was no comforting that would help, so he simply rested his hand on her thigh, absentmindedly rubbing little circles with his thumb. The warmth of his palm was enough to distract her thoughts, but only for a moment before she fell back into the same old spiral.

Mabel looked much better than Polly thought she would. She'd always been beautiful, but often sported dark circles and a bony face. Now her cheeks were rounder, eyes less sunken and more bright. Like this, she looked much more like her daughter, Polly felt as if she was looking into a distorted mirror.

Her mother approached the pair with a small wave, awaiting Polly to introduce her to Jeff. She did, and of course, as any mother would, seemed to like Jeff more than she did Polly.

Her demeanor was throwing Polly for a loop, being Mabel was drastically different from the years of her childhood. She no longer seemed to be the manipulative or lying person she once was. What shocked Polly, even more, was when a waiter came along asking if they'd like any drinks- and Mabel had ordered just water.

Just water?

Just water was not a glass of white wine or endless negronis until she slurred her words and reamed her daughter. Just water was not the drink that affected the entire Maureen family. Polly's shock was visible on her face, which Mabel picked up on.

"About a year I've been sober." She explained sweetly to her daughter.

That doesn't explain you being not absolutely terrible, Polly thought. "Huh?" Was all she managed to say.

"Sober for about a ye-"

"A year." Polly cut her off, "that's really great." She couldn't bring herself to say 'mom' after her words.

Jeff nodded in agreement, though staying quiet, not wanting to intrude on the conversation.

Mabel still had that smile on her face. One that dripped with sweetness, that Polly wanted to believe was fake. That she wasn't different, that teenage Polly hadn't dealt with all her shit just for her to become the mother she'd always needed- but years too late.

Her jaw tensed and her hands wrapped around her glass as she took a slow sip, "I'm gonna be right back." She pushed her chair back, making her way to the bathroom.

First, she looked in the mirror, her face so reminiscent of her mother's. She was the spit of her, even down to her old alcoholic tendencies and many past meaningless relationships.

She knew she should be happy for her, but somewhere inside twenty-four-year-old Polly was a child that so dearly had needed a mother. A sober, not downright awful mother. A mother that would dry her tears rather than make them fall.

She hated her for years and years. The way she spoke down to her, the way she screamed when Polly played piano. Now, back at their table, she had happily informed her of her sobriety as if that made up for the years of wishing to be anywhere else in the world while in her childhood home- a home that was supposed to be an oasis for children, a happy memory.

Mabel Maureen had taken that from her daughter and no matter how many years she neglected alcohol, nothing would change memories set in stone, mistakes that altered their relationship forever.

But Polly walked back to their table calmly, sitting across from her mother as she painted on a fake face of love.

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"I know that I couldn't say anything that would make anything better. Okay? I know that, Polly." Mabel started, lips pursing as a melancholy danced in her eyes. "But I am sorry."

Polly stood idle by the cab as she turned her head down towards the many cracks in the sidewalk. "I'm glad you're doing good." Was all she said before ducking down into the car, Mabel watching as the cab sped off. It only made it around the block before Polly rested her head on Jeff's chest and began to cry.

She cried enough that by the time they left and paid the driver she'd begun to feel numb. Her heart was dragged down in her chest, and each step to that house broke her heart a little more.

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