If Only

Chapter 6

A/N
🎶Why by Dominic Fike🎶

Mrs O'Connor insisted that my mother come in that week to discuss the incident. She wanted to do a check up and chat with my Mum about my well-being.

It was for that reason that I was now making my way to Brixton to my mothers house. Its the day after the incident where I embarrassingly clung to Blake. I have taken today and tomorrow off for my "mental health". However, in reality I needed my mother to dry out for the night so she could walk into my school tomorrow evening and pass as a normal human being.

Despite my mothers issues she actually kept the house spotlessly clean and the neighbourhood was ok. Her neighbours were lovely, also really kind and friendly. I had even started to make a few friends when I had lived with her for a short period of time.

Mum also some how managed to keep herself immaculately well presented. This was quite impressive considering she was out of her tree most of the time.

I braced myself as I knocked on the semi detached door. The door looked freshly painted a warm brown colour. I had a key but I didn't want to use it. God knows what she was doing inside there.

After no answer I knocked again.

"WHO IS IT?" I heard her thrill.

With a sigh I called back "It's Alison Mum, let me in".

After a fumbling at the door, a bang and a click the door was wrenched open to reveal a bleary eyed red headed woman, a bit taller than me, wrapped up in a housecoat. My mother was much thinner than me, fragile looking. Due to her lack of weight her high cheekbones protruded sharply from her face. She had mud brown eyes that were usually scrunched because she refused to wear her glasses. My Mum was in her late 30's but looked older.

Her face pulled into a sneer as she observed me standing at the door.

"And to whot do I owe this visit from my daaarling daughter" she drawled.

"I need a favour mum, can I come in?" I say cautiously.

She still doesn't move to let me inside. I grit my teeth but remind myself I have a long night of staying calm ahead of me if I am to get what I want here. "...and if you do it for me, as a token of my gratitude il get you a gift. As appreciation for being such a great Mum".

Her eyes brighten at that. She's on the social, she doesn't work. She tried over the years but the drink always got in the way. The vodka and cider bottles are like currency to her. I've learned to use them as a bargaining chip over the years.

She moved from the door to let me in.

I walk into her tacky beige walkway that has sparkly wall paper. I close the door behind me and follow her to the living room. I sit down on her pristine red velvet armchair and glance up at the walls as she walks into the kitchen to get a fag.

Photos of George and I line the walls. The first few show us young and naively innocent. Our father was alive then and he had likely dropped us off for the weekend or they were still together. As you progress across the wall as we get older you can see the change. We are still smiling but there's something behind our eyes, a forced, hidden secret. The difference is our one parent was ripped away and we had been left on this earth with just a shell of a woman as our protector. She might have been a nice person, if it wasn't for the illness that has literally turned her into an angry, spiteful, selfish husk.

Hash I know, but true.

She sits down across from me again with a lot fag in her hand.