Him <3 ~A Zayn Malik Fan-Fiction~

~Chapter 19~ Moving Out and Moving In Part 1

The next morning, I woke up with a note from Zayn on the nightstand.  I grabbed it.

Ri,

Me and the boys are meeting up with so me important people today.  I'll be gone for a while.  I'll call you later. I ♥ you

I smiled at the note as I got out of bed.  I looked down the NIRVANA shirt I wore.  It seemed like every time I slept over, I always ended up in it. 

I made my way to the kitchen as I saw the sink full of dishes.  I decided to wash them.  Then I saw a stain on the stove.   I decided to scrub it.  Then I saw a little dust on the tile.  I decided to clean the floor.  After cleaning the entire kitchen, I took a nice hot shower. 

After my shower, I realized I had no clean clothes for the day.  So I decided to go home and and pack a bag. 

*

As I payed the taxi man, I quickly searched for my keys as I made my way to the front steps of my house. 

As I found my keys, I unlocked the door as I made my way in to the smell of apple pie. I walked into the kitchen as I saw my mom as a new women. 

She showered, her hair was done, and she cleaned up the place.  There was not a trace that showed she was an druggie and an alcoholic. And I knew exactly why, it was Thanksgiving.

My mom wasn't always a druggie.  When I was little she was funny, smart, and she was my best friend.  Me, her, and my dad were like the three musketeers.  I loved them both to death.  I still do.  I could remember when my dad got stationed in Iran.  My mom began to drink vigorously.  She would ignore me like I was nothing.  She treated me like her burden.  She wasn't my best friend anymore.

  Though she was a depressed alcoholic, it was amazing how she could pull herself together at the appropriate time.  Whenever my dad was on leave, and especially holidays.  Holidays were the only times my mother became a new person.  She was the mother I knew and loved.  She made a large feast, and prepared for the whole family to come over.  She discarded all of her vodka bottles, her pipes, her pills, and her old personality.  But after my dad died, she just didn't really care anymore.  That was why I was so surprised to see her buttering an apple pie crust in our kitchen. 

"Hey." I said blandly. She looked at me as I opened the fridge to see every food you could think of.

"You walk in at noon and all you have to say is 'hey?" She said arrogantly.

I slammed the fridge door as I glanced at her. "Glad you noticed." I said as I clapped my hands. 

She put down the butter brush as she rested her hands on the counter.  "Look, Riley, I try.  It's hard but I can't be perfect." She said.

I rolled my eyes.  I could feel the anger boiling.  I tried to keep my mouth shut as the words forced there way out.  "Stop playing the victim.  You get high all day, then all of the sudden you come out looking like Lucy Ricardo when it's time for grandma to visit."  I said. I could see her shake her head as she laughed under her breath. 

" You have never been in my position.  At least I'm trying." She replied.

"Trying is not promising your gonna get better, then having your child come home to the same goddamn thing." I challenged. "A junkie passed out on the couch having some half naked man walk around the house like he lives here."  I blurted.  But I wasn't finished.  "If grandma ever found out the shit you do, you wouldn't even be here." She walked over to me as she met my face. 

"You better close your mouth," She demanded I could see a tear in her eye. "Now I'm going to try." She said taking my hands. "I promise.  I'll go to counseling, I'll go to rehab, whatever it takes."  She assured me.