The Hiatus

The Sign

"MOM HAVE YOU SEEN MY BLACK TUBE TOP?" I yelled as I was searching my closet. Jesus, its my first day of college and my favorite shirt is nowhere to be found. It's not like I overlooked it, I mean, who could? My closet is so goddamn small.

"NO, ARE YOU SURE IT'S NOT IN YOUR CLOSET?'

I could murder someone right now. As I start to walk towards her room, I see her clutching her nose and trying to get a tissue.

"Mom, are you okay?" I ask confused. That just came out of nowhere.

"Yeah honey, I'm fine. Go back to getting ready. You're gonna be late."

I started towards her room and she jumped towards the door.

"You can't go in there, it's a mess." She told me with fear in her eyes.

"Ooookay." I said still very suspicious. What was the big deal? I just couldn't understand it. I was just in her room last night. It wasn't THAT messy.

I put on a different shirt and finished getting ready and before I knew it, it was time to go to school.

I quickly grabbed a banana and grabbed my mom's keys.

"Mom, I'm gonna start the car! We have to be out of here in 5 minutes." I yelled. When I didn't get a response I thought I'd go check on her. After all, she had been acting weird this morning and I should probably make sure she is okay.

As I opened her door I was greeted by a site I never thought I'd see.

My mother looked beautiful in her work clothes. Her silk blouse flattered her shape perfectly, her slacks -well- they were slacks, but her pumps? Oh they were to die for. But I didn't notice any of this right away. The only thing I saw was her sniffing white lines through a straw, with bloody tissues and my tube top beside her.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled angrily. I could not believe it. One of the reasons my mom left my dad was because he sold drugs, how could she be doing them? Up until recently she couldn't even stand people who smoked. Now she was smoking a pack a day. But I never thought she would do any type of drugs.

"Penelope! I told you not to come in here!"

"What the hell are you doing?" I repeated.

"Penelope, honey, get in the car. Please. You're going to be late. We'll talk about it in the car."

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I waited in the car for another ten minutes before she finally came down. I couldn't even look at her. Why would she be doing that?

"Penelope, sweetie, what you saw in there wasn't what it loo-"

"What I saw in there was my mother doing coke. You can't try to lie your way out of this. Just tell me why you did it?" I couldn't hide the tears that were rolling down my face. My face burned with embarrassment, my heart ached with sadness. How could she do this to me? To my little brother?

My brother. Oh god. He didn't know. He was already a troubled kid, what effect would this have on him?

"If you want me to stop, I'll stop. I swear to you, Penelope. I will do anything I can to make this right."

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She dropped me off right in front of the building my class was held, just five minutes before my class was going to start.

"Penelope, please promise you won't be angry at me?" I saw her eyes gleaming with true remorse. Should I stay angry?

"Look, I have to go. If I'm late to class I lose my spot." I said as I examined the floor nervously.

It wasn't a lie. But it definitely made a good excuse to not answer her question. I mean, could I feel less angry? She stopped her partying ways when she got her first serious job since the divorce. She promised me that and she followed through. Who's to say that this would be any different. But if she truly stooped partying, how did she get the cocaine?

I was sure this wasn't going to be an easy decision.

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I decided that it would be best to leave my little brother out of it until I could figure out if my mom was telling the truth.

I was sitting in the computer lab finishing up my sociology paper when I saw her car pull up. I saved the file to my USB and logged off. There was a relaxing ambiance in the library that made me want to stay, like nothing else existed. I didn't want to go home top my problems. I was really starting to rethink my off-campus living decision.

The silence during the drive home was painful. I wanted real answers. I felt I deserved that much, at least.

Didn't I?

"We sure do have it nice, don't we?" I said in such an awful tone. But the words were true. We had a brand new BMW, we lived in a luxury condo. She gave us a comfortable life. Why should I let one thing bother me, if she had already given so much?

I decided I wouldn't let it bother me.

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