Burden

*-chapter nine-*

yesterday when i said i would be with her every step of they way, well i turns out i woke up a bit too late so i had to rearrange everything i was going to this morning which included, going to the bank to put a down payment for the sunny goods facility, aswell of paying 2 out of 7 of the important pills, then organising a payment plan for the hospital bill. right now i'm following a nurse who taken me to my mother. 

"Hey, Mum," I say, looking intently at her and taking in her appearance. It's clear she hasn't slept in a while, and she looks visibly empty. Looking down, I notice the bandages on her arms, and a wave of sickness washes over me. Shaking it off, I return my attention to her face, where she is staring at me with a resentful look. She nods and then turns her attention back to the window. I sigh to myself, feeling the awkwardness in the air as I stand near her.

"I brought you some flowers to put in your room, and, oh, look, a photo-book that you made last time. Maybe you can finish it," I suggest, trying to break the tension and bring a touch of familiarity into the space. reaching her hands out she grabs them, sniffing the flowers, With a small smile, I express my happiness, even though it's apparent that she's still harboring some anger towards me. Despite the lingering tension, the gesture seems to bring a glimmer of positivity to the moment.

"Have you heard from John? I don't have my phone here, so I can't tell him ive moved" she asks. My frustration intensifies, and I retort with a touch of anger, "No, Mum, I've been trying. That prick hasn't bothered to respond." The tension in the room grows, fueled by both the limitations on communication and the apparent displeasure with John's actions. "Don't call him a prick," she interjects, pushing back against the negative characterization.

"Well, what else should I call him?" I retort, frustration evident in my voice. The tension in the air is palpable as we grapple with differing perspectives on the person in question"That man has been there for me in ways you wouldn't understand; I need him," she asserts. Feeling a pang of guilt, I sigh, "I'm sorry, Mum. It's just that maybe you should focus on yourself right now." This only seems to irritate my mother more. "You tell him I'm here or else you don't bother coming back here," she warns. Frustrated, I relent, "For God's sake, Mum, fine. I'll find him." The strained atmosphere hangs in the air as we navigate the complexities of our emotions and relationships.

Despite the exhaustion, I want to sit, but Mum insists I go find him. Rolling my eyes, I ask, "Where does he work, Mum?" She smiles now, "the bar across the road from that park we used to go to." Nodding, I give her a hug, whether she likes it or not, before heading out.

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Arriving at the bar, a mix of anticipation and anxiety swirls within me as I silently pray that John is here. Stepping inside, the ambient sounds of chatter and clinking glasses envelop me. Determined, I approach the bar, catching the eye of the bartender and signaling for him to come over.

"Yeah, hello. Is John working today?" I inquire, trying to keep my tone composed. The bartender scrutinizes me, clearly curious. "Who's asking?" he responds, making me feel a bit uneasy.

"His girlfriend's daughter," I reply, hoping the connection will be enough to elicit a helpful response. The bartender gives me a skeptical look. "You're Mary's daughter, a bit older than what he said she was." The mention of Mary sends a chill down my spine, but I shake off the confusion. "What do you mean, Mary's? Who the... what? No, I don't care. Just tell me if he's working; I have news for him," I assert, trying to steer the conversation back to its purpose.

The bartender, clearly realizing he may have misspoken, points towards the back of the bar. I avert my attention in that direction, squinting to locate John. Once I do, I thank the bartender and make my way toward John. taking a breath to cool my nerves. i can feel my anxiety rise.

shaking my head i continue walking to john.

"Do you even know how to answer a damn phone?" I confront John as he turns around. "Oh, Maeve, yeah, I've been meaning to grace your mother with my presence, but I've been busy, you know, with this," he says with a dismissive wave, gesturing around himself. Snorting in disbelief, I retort, "Busy with Mary, I assume." The palpable tension in the air thickens as the unspoken toxicity of the situation hangs between us. john gives me a shocked look before deepening his glare at me.

"How do you know about Mary?" I roll my eyes. "That's besides the point. Who is she?" John snarls, "None of your damn business." rolling my eyes "it is my business when your hurting my mother" saying that made him angry "ME hurt your mother, if anyone hurting her its you." taken a back by his words  "You know you're just a burden, right? Always needing something, always clinging to your mother. Maybe it's time you figure out how to handle your own mess." His words sting, leaving an emotional bruise as the atmosphere turns even more acrimonious.

moving on from that i quickly change the direction of the spotlight from me and moving it over to him "are you drunk right now, it the middle of the day?" i say, im not the best with people being mean with me, so yes there are already tear brimming my eyes. 

John's eyes narrow, and he scoffs at my question. "Drunk or not, it's my life. You're always prying into other people's business. Can't you see nobody wants you here?" His words cut through me, adding to the pain of the moment. The dismissive tone and the cruel remarks deepen the emotional wounds, leaving me grappling with the harsh reality of the situation.

"Mum's at Sunny Goods Facility. She attempted a few nights ago, and she's been asking for you," I reveal, my voice breaking under the weight of the words.

"She's always playing the victim, trying to get attention. I don't have time for her games," he retorts callously, brushing off the severity of the situation with a heartless indifference. "Besides, I've got Mary now. She doesn't need you dragging me into your family drama," he adds, a smug superiority in his tone as if the new relationship somehow justifies his lack of concern for my mother.

My eyes well up with tears as I absorb his heartless response. I muster a weak nod, struggling to find the words. "Okay," I whisper, my voice barely audible

"So why don't you get out of my sight, you pitiful excuse for a human being?" he snarls, the contempt dripping from his words like venom. His eyes narrow with disdain, and a cruel smirk twists his lips. "You're nothing but a burden, dragging everyone down with your pathetic existence. No wonder your own mother can't stand you." The harshness of his tirade cuts deep, leaving me stunned and wounded. I nod, tears welling up, and stumble away from the bar, the echoes of his brutal words haunting my every step.

Stepping outside, I wipe away my tears and take a few deep breaths. I hate him, but I can't help but internalize what he said about being a burden. It stings because, in a way, I believe it. My mother was forced to take care of me after my dad left, and he obviously left because we were a burden on him. The weight of those words lingers in the air, and I can't shake off the feeling that maybe he's right. thinking it best not to go see mum right now i make my way to the cafe to talk to jo.

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unedited