Last Stop

Chapter thirty four

I am woken the day of new years eve at 3am in the morning to a loud bang. Instantly I am out of bed, baseball back clutched in my hand and I rush out my room. There is music playing and my steps faulter when I realise my mom is in the kitchen cooking. Well, baking. Batter surrounds her and she darts around the kitchen. 

"Mom? What are you doing?"

"Cameron, did I wake you baby?" She comes over clutching my cheeks her own grinning. "Now you can help me, I am making the last batch of brownies for the year."

"Does it have to happen at 3am?"

"I couldn't sleep, what better way to finish off the year with a mother-son baking morning!"

I try push away the exhaustion that fills me as she pulls me into the kitchen, explaining the plan as I blink the sleep in my eyes. 

"Mom this is not normal!" I groan when she places an apron over my head. I need sleep, I already had terrible nightmares about Spencer falling into holes and mines. Plus the school gave me a whole lot of material I need to complete before the start of school on Monday. I need sleep. 

"Be fun!" She chides "You used to love our bake days as a kid."

I do not mention that they used to be laced with drugs and weird smelling strangers. But sometimes I would get to lick the uncontaminated batter.  

"I am going back to bed." I mutter 30 minutes later and she lets me go with little protest. I collapse onto my mattress fully prepared to fall back asleep when I notice that my desk draw is slightly open, I left it closed yesterday after checking the money was still there. I jump up, frantically opening the draw and pulling away the fake bottom, my heart sinks as I realise that it is empty. There is no money. I search every corner, under my desk, everywhere. Not wanting to believe that my mother took it. She is getting better. 

The sound of her singing in the kitchen breaks through my denial and the intense feeling I get, the lightening that seems to strike me from head to toe at the familiar tune, as familiar as my own breath. It is panic, fear, anxiety and rage all in one, piling on top of one another. I am frozen as I listen to 'thousand years' being sung into the kitchen. It fills all the empty spaces, all the healing pieces inside of me with lead. I want to scream, to cry, to run and to never ever have woken up. If only I had kept sleeping. If only I could pretend. Can I pretend? 

"Darling don't be afraid I have loved you-"Fills the kitchen and I swallow at the bile that threatens to rise with the lyrics. 

What if she is just singing because she likes the song? But she knows so many other songs. This song, this song is her high song, without fail every time she has ever been high she sings it and if you caught her sober, on the rare occasion and brought up the song she would scoff, telling you she hated it. That and the missing money. I do not want to believe she took it but the likely hood of some pigeon flying into the apartment during the night is even more ridiculous since the window doesn't even open.  Dread fills me like liquid weights as my brain reels. How could she?

I must sit, crouched on my bedroom floor for hours, hands clutching my hair in panic. Frozen with the idea that everything is going back to how it was. That I ruined everything back at Millie's and now everything is ruined here. I am useless. How could I not see this would happen? How could I not know this would happen? I am so so stupid and I deserve this because I should have seen it coming. But I chose to trust and it was my fault. 

I sit until there is sun streaming into my room and my phone rings but when I see the name flashing across my screen I ignore it. I can't talk to Spencer now, not ever, he was right, he was right and he probably thinks I am super dump for coming back here.  I ignore the two more calls that come from Aunt Milline and Mark as well.  

Eventually I stand, my legs barely registering that I am standing and heading towards the kitchen. 

I stand and watch as my mom is occupied in the kitchen, making something else.  It takes a few minutes before she notices me standing there. 

"Oh Cameron, honey, did you manage to get some more sleep? I was just thinking why don't we go ice skating again today? "

"Where is the money? "I ask giving her the chance to tell me she spent it on groceries, on presents, on rent. I would accept anything that isn't a substance. 

"What money?"

But I can tell she is lying, just as I was able to tell when I was a child and she promised to come home and tuck me in.  Her next fix already in her mind. 

"The money Uncle Mark gave me for emergencies, it was in my draw, what did you do with the money?"

"Honestly Cameron, you are sounding crazy, maybe you should be the one in therapy." Her laugh is unnatural. "Why don't we forget all this money nonsense and go have a nice day outside." As if to confirm her words she starts pulling on her jacket. 

"The oven is still on." I point out and she pauses. 

"Just give me the money. Whatever is left of it."

"I didn't take the money."

"Please don't do this!"I plead, already feeling the exhaustion ebb through my body. 

"I won't stand here and be accused by my son!" She says getting angry and it is then that I know for sure. "I am turning my life around, how can you come here and say I took money?!"

"Who else would mom?" I ask shaking all over in anger and frustration. "YOU PROMISED!" I do not know how it rose so fast and broke the surface so easily but it is there. The anger is there and I want to destroy everything in my path. Take down all the pain that filled me for years. I was never a good enough reason for her to stay sober. Even now I am not good enough.

"You promised this time would be different, I left everything for you!"

"Cameron you are talking crazy."

"You said it would be different." I say again and suddenly she is sneering at me. 

"I am leaving, I do not have to take this abuse!"

She slams the door on her way out and I sink to the floor, somewhere the phone is ringing as I sink into exhausted sobs. I want to die.