You can Bet on Me

Part 25 ~ I Hate How I Love Him

Maddison
Eleanor's fever was still high, but it was gradually getting better. As I had suspected, Abagail had a terrible hangover and Addison still wasn't over her breakup with Sam. Danielle was still being as helpful as ever and trying to help with taking care of Eleanor, but I made sure to tell her to leave Abagail and Addison to me.
By lunchtime, I found the motivation to cook a simple homemade ravioli, which brightened the dull mood. But it couldn't make my terrible mood better – I was still feeling as hateful and sad despite the light mood in the air for the rest of the day. I had made sure to keep Abagail strictly on water (even though she said that some bourbon would help her feel better) and pulled all alcohol away from her. I had called the school to say that none of us would be at school that day, and they had questioned it, but I quickly and briefly (as possible) explained the situation to them.
Sammy was at home today because Mr Murphy was out of town visiting some family, and he would be for the next week, so Sammy was going to be home all week. Mum couldn't afford to send Sammy to daycare (at least, not for long) since she was starting to save up for Addison's college funds, even though I swear that Addison wouldn't want to even go to college.
Sammy being home just doubled my workload, and I was like a mum to them all practically. I heard Abagail let out a fading groan from across the room and I flickered my gaze to a tear-stricken Addison. I flashed her an apologetic smile and said, "I'll be right back."
Addison nodded and I quickly rushed to Abagail's room next door. She was on her bed, her murderous groans still sounding loudly. I rolled my eyes and whipped the blanket off her – she was a dishevelled mess of hair and some remnants of makeup. Her eyes were red and she had heavy eyebags – the result from getting drunk as fuck and then returning home past midnight.
"I'll get you some water," I said, popping out of her room before she could protest and coming back quickly with yet another glass of water. I handed it to her and she drank mournfully. "You know, you were so drunk last night that you could barely walk."
"Don't remind me of my pains," groaned Abagail, turning over in her bed and pulling the blanket back over her shoulder. "And don't wake me up again until noon."
"It's already past noon," I said pointedly, crossing my arms, but Abagail was barely listening. She let out a noncommitted groan and continued to sleep. I rolled my eyes at her pitiful display and went straight back to Addison's room. Just as I sat down once again beside Addison on her bed, Danielle came running into the room, eyes wide and fearful.
"Ellie's temperature is really high," she said. "It was thirty-nine and a half earlier, but now it's back up to forty. I swear I didn't do anything—"
"And I'm not saying you did," I cut her off from her ranting. "I'll come and check it out. More likely, she's just naturally getting worse." Danielle nodded and I got up to leave once again. Just as Danielle stepped out the door, I turned to Addison and said apologetically, "so, uh, yeah. Sorry, I'll be back as soon as I can."
I rushed off to Eleanor and Danielle's room and Eleanor was lying in bed, her face red and her small body tucked tightly under her My Little Pony blanket, the words 'Friendship is Magic' scrunched up and dirtied from years of use. I checked her temperature and Danielle had been right – her temperature was now a 47.6.
"Shit," I murmured, too softly for Danielle or Eleanor to hear. Louder, I turned to Danielle and said, "you know that barley water I'm cooking? Can you go pour a glass for her?"
"Okay," Danielle nodded and dashed off just as I heard Sammy's cry. I groaned loudly and got up to go attend to the youngest of my siblings, who, despite how busy I was taking care of all my siblings, also needed attention. A lot of attention. Much more than I had to give.
But on the plus side, being so busy distracted my mind from all my pain and worries and heartbreak. It stopped the thoughts of Michael entering my mind, because my brain was already at max capacity with thoughts of more importance and less pain. It was exhausting – I would admit that much. But part of me was glad. Glad that I could distract myself from my own distraught, and glad that I could at least be with all my siblings. The day passed slowly, but I made sure that everyone was well and that the laundry was always washed and that there was always properly cooked dinners – not just microwave dinners that mum and papa usually bought when they didn't care enough to cook or at least get take-out.
It frustrated me that mum and papa could leave us all alone to fend for ourselves again the heavy burdens of growing up, pain, and sicknesses. I remembered how when grandma, when she was still alive, used to say that I was growing up far to quickly and becoming so mature. Too mature. It was annoying and aggravating that I had to throw away my entire childhood to take care of all my irresponsible siblings so soon just because my parents weren't around. I didn't have a choice – it was either to grow up faster, or to let my siblings have microwave dinners and have to fend for themselves during tough times.
The decision wasn't hard.
So there I was, working around the clock whenever my parents were gone, which was practically every day. I understood that they were busy, but even when they weren't, I knew that they wouldn't come running to take care of us. No, that was my job. At seven years old I had to self-learn how to use the washing machine, and I won't go into the details of how many times I opened our ancient washing machine and bubbles came exploding out or how many times did I turn papa's white, formal shirts pink. I learnt to cook at eight years old, and I was so short that I had to use a stool to reach the stove before I could properly cook.
Maybe that was the reason that I took an interest in cooking and baking. Maybe that was the reason my dream was to own a bakery of my own. Maybe that was the fuel I needed to keep making good food and serving delicious meals and pastries to my siblings.
The next day, Ellie's fever had gone down, and she was prancing around the house like a pony and playing with dolls with Danielle, but she still had a fever. Addison still refused to go to school, but promised that she would tomorrow. By then, it was Wednesday and I had to take care of my siblings three days in a row. Abagail still had a bad hangover, but it wasn't as serious as the day before, and yet she still drank her bodyweight in coffee and water. I busied myself with washing the laundry and cooking and even cleaning Abagail's pigsty of a room.
Everything was just such a bustle (for me, anyways) that Michael barely crossed my mind twice, and when it did, I just dove straight into schoolwork and filled my thoughts with math equations and the importance of the moral of Romeo and Juliet. Even if I was away from school, schoolwork still piled on me again and again and I temporarily forgot about all my heartbreak.
But at last, Thursday came around, and everyone was fine. Addison was still feeling not so great, but she went to school anyways, Abagail's hangover disappeared, Eleanor's fever went down to a normal temperature, and Mr Murphy came back early from his holiday, so Sammy too was out of the house. I no longer had an excuse to be away from school, and I certainly didn't want Michael thinking that he was the reason I was away from school.
For once, I flung open my wardrobe and began thinking about what Cassie would wear. How Cassie would dress. What Cassie would pick out for me. Strangely, the weather had changed and suddenly, the days were all hot, yet slightly windy. A perfect combination – much better than my heart. I settled for a good girl look – light blue jean shorts, a comfortable white shirt with a golden ring around the sleeves and neck, and the same cardigan I wore to the party. It was champagne coloured and had golden sparkles in it, but since it was cropped, I realised how terrible it looked with my clothing, so I let it sit around my lower arms and elbows.
I looked at myself in the mirror – damn, I had really nailed the 'good girl' look. If I suddenly grew cat ears and cute, circular glasses, it would be the perfect good girl look, but yet again, I hated and didn't need glasses, and I'm pretty sure growing cat ears were impossible. I went straight downstairs to where all my siblings were ready – an unusual, if not impossible, phenomenon.