Blaise

4.

The problem with me being happy is that it never lasted.

I and Blaise talked on the phone until it was three in the morning for me, we probably could have kept going the whole night if it wasn't for the fact I was half asleep. If I remember correctly, I mumbled out a sleepy goodnight and before he could respond I had already hung up. Sighing I craned my neck to the side so I could watch the outside view.

It was December and Christmas was nearing. I missed the chirping of birds and the constant hug that the warmth of summer provided. I was in one of those moods again, the kind where I overthought everything and zeroed in on how unfortunate life has been with me.

At least I was comfortable. I cleaned my room earlier today and got ready. My comfy flared yoga pants and matching gray crop top did their best to show how bland I was feeling. One of the downsides of being me is the everyday challenge of boredom.

"Okay." I pause, "we're not gonna do this." I was used to talking to myself now. Standing up from the dining table I walk to the kitchen and bring my phone and speaker with me. I play some old music from back when I was younger. The familiar beat of little bit by lykke li has me moving nodding my head. I squat down and jack the heavy bag of Christmas decorations up and onto the kitchen counter. I needed to do something.

"Tis the season to be jolly." Except I was feeling everything but. Being cooped up inside had its advantages, here no one bothered perceived me. Every single instance in which I've had to leave my house since October was work related. I thrived like this, I think. I knew it wasn't healthy. I needed social interaction so bad but I was so scared of it lasting only a few weeks. I didn't want to waist my time forming an attachment to someone that was just a fleeting saccharine memory.

Throwing around Christmas decorations numbed my mind a little. I started to feel my spirits brighten. I even played some more upbeat songs and danced along to them. The house sparkled faintly and I would squint my eyes to blur my vision so the shine of the lights felt more mystical. Maybe in another universe I'm a fairy or some precious woodland creature. I'd enjoy that more than words could describe. The intensity of light fascinated me, the thought of staring deep into a star or the moon calmed me in moments of panic.

In my hand was a tattered ornament. Little pink finger tips marred its plain white base and scratches cheapened it. Lightly I pressed my thumb to the mark of the painted one and watched as it covered it. I wonder if younger me would be happy with how her future is turning out for her. I wonder.

My reminiscing was cut short when the sound of the door being unlocked broke me loose from my trance. I watched like a deer caught in headlights as the womanly figure invited themselves in. The similar brown skin and blunt black bob sent a zing through my brain. Mother's home. She shivered and quickly closed the large front door behind her. I took notice of the tips of her one exposed ear, it red and peeking. Was it really that cold out?

Without warning I felt the chill of how cold and empty my home was. I craved a cover or jacket expeditiously. How hadn't I noticed before? Swallowing I continued to look at her in hopes I could determine what mood she brought along with her.

"Why is this house so damn cold!" She huffed out with a slight raise in her intonation. "Pearl! Pearl! I'm home!"

"I'm here." Her neck snapped to me.

"OH! My Lord in Heaven!" She jumped physically. "How long have you been there? Scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry..." I didn't really know what else to say.

"Mhm." Her invasive eyes took in the newly decorated house. She brought her hands together. "I see you've been decorating. Good to be in the festive spirit I suppose." She finally made her move and came to me in the kitchen. She wobbled a little but it wasn't noticeable.

I looked for a resemblance to the woman I conjured up when I was a child in her face. We had never been close and because of it I would spend hours upon hours daydreaming of us having the most perfect relationship. In my dream she was soft and warm like a plush pillow. Her laugh was contagious and smile lines showed her enthusiasm for happiness.

In reality, her lips bent downwards automatically. Forehead lines showed the constant raise of her brow and her lipstick was a bloody red that left you feeling peppered.

"Me and Marlin had a fight again."

"I'm sorry." I responded after some silence.

"Is that all you can say?"

My mouth almost opened to fling out another apology but instead I minded myself. Her stare had me stuck. She scoffed and in return I looked towards my feet. This is agony. She walked over to me and I flinched.

She paused.

Alcohol. she smelt of alcohol.

We briefly made eye contact but she continued to walk past me. She calmly opened a cupboard and brought out a wine glass. Her body shrunk as she held its emptiness like it was heavy. She looked down into it and I wonder what she was seeing.

"How did you get here?"

"Huh?"

"Did someone drop you off?" I clarified. I circled my childhood ornament in my hand.

"No." My heart dropped. So reckless and selfish.

"You cant--" I inhaled to hold back my tears. The thought of her useless and misplaced ability to think, her feverish need to act without thought for others. Her lack of care for the fact that even though she had long given up on me I still had a little hope we'd make it. "Driving when you're like that is wrong. You know its wrong, please don't do that again."

"How dare you!" She was ferocious in gaze and soul. "When did you become the mother and I the child?"

I wanted to tell her since I could dress myself for school, since I could do my own hair, since I could lend her money.

"You disgust me. You're disrespect is intolerable. I haven't seen you leave this house in months! fix--" She tensed her face hard and slammed the glass on the kitchen counter. "FUCK! worry about yourself before you talk about how incapable I am." She screamed and it felt like I should just melt into a puddle of nothing.

She hurriedly rushed past me and her shoulder bumped mine so hard I felt the ornament slip out of my hold.

Looking at it's shattered pieces sent me into a crisis for many reasons. One, it represented the fall of my childhood. The last ornament for the Christmas tree that even during my decorating I could not find. We hadn't used it in years. Two, the similarity of shattered pieces. I wonder if the way my mother broke that glass on the counter is the same as the way I let what I held close to my heart drop into little pieces. The difference between us was that for her she wasn't afraid to break and for me no matter how hard I tried things still broke anyways.

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hello!!! thank you so much to my lovely readers who have been commenting and voting:3 i love receiving that notification.

lemme know what u think of this chapter and of pearls mom, wanted to flesh out maybe a reason for why she is the way she is^~^
sadly no Blaise in this chapter </3

this is unedited so if it's a mess i'm sorry!
thank you angels!!
vote, comment, and goodbye ❤️