Famous Last Words - Lyn-G

Chapter 9: Kick the Bucket

A small sigh leaves my lips as I look at myself in the mirror one final time. Once I'm somewhat pleased with what I see, I turn around and grab my phone along with my keys and wallet from my bedside table before tightening the laces of my combat boots.

Making sure I don't need anything else, I leave my room, closing the door as silently as I can. My mom doesn't know where I'm headed to, and I'd like to keep it that way. It's not like she would care anyway; she's probably lying in bed, some middle-aged hunk whose name she can't remember, snoring next to her.

Excitement bubbling in my stomach, I pounce down the stairs, trying to make as little sound as possible. As I enter the kitchen, in search of something to take with me on the road as breakfast, I'm faced with an impossible sight.

Leaning against one of the kitchen counters, with a coffee mug in one hand and the paper in the other, is my mother. Most surprisingly, she looks alright. Her eyes aren't rimmed with black and her hair looks clean, recently washed. As she hears me clonk into the kitchen, she lifts her gaze from the papers and her brown eyes settle on mine.

"Linds! How come you're already awake, it's only," she pauses to look at the new watch latched onto her left wrist, "9:30?"

I stare at my mother with wide eyes. How am I going to explain the fact that I'm off to New Jersey to meet another band with my own band? If my mother every found out I have a band, or that I'm hanging out with boys I barely know, she would flip out and probably lock me in my room for the rest of my life. And take my bass away.

"Uhh... I just woke up early and I'm seeing Kitty at ten," I scramble to explain. My mom looks me up and down, before narrowing her eyes slightly and pursing her lips together.

"How come you're dressed so nicely?" She asks, a stern tone making its way to her voice. I glance down at my outfit. It's true, my short plaid skirt paired with a casual button up and my nicest boots really don't make it seem like I'm about to hang out with my best friend who wouldn't mind seeing me in sweatpants and a T-shirt with holes. Not to mention the fact that my eyes are lined with eyeliner and my lips are tinted red at 9:30 am. But it's not like I was expecting my mother to be waiting for me downstairs, fully clothed and sober.

"We're, uh, we're going to this school thing," I try to explain. My mother's eyebrows raise, more in amusement than anything,

"On Saturday?" She asks, trying to conceal a smile behind her coffee mug. Shit, it's Saturday. Nice explanation, I congratulate myself as I rack my brain for any suitable excuse,

"Yeah, i-it's this extra credit thing," I stutter, mentally cursing myself. My mom just cocks an eyebrow curiously before taking a gulp of coffee.

"Alright then. How come you're doing extra credit two weeks before summer vacation starts?" My mom asks. I bite my lip.

"You know, we're trying to get out grades up in the final weeks," I explain.

"Are you saying you have bad grades?" My mom asks, sounding alarmed. I roll my eyes,

"It's not like you would know. Alcohol and men have seemed to be more important than me for many years now," I mutter, glad to have found a segway to another topic, even though it is a depressing one.

"Oh god," my mom mutters and sets her coffee mug on the counter top. I stare at my feet. I didn't want to get into this conversation, especially not now. It's a hard thing to discuss. Even if she doesn't accept it, I know my mother is an alcoholic and the pain she's caused me over the years by drinking too much, is not acceptable. A year ago, I would've given anything for her to be sober and able to talk to me about it. But now that she finally is sober, even if it is for a short while, and willing to talk to me, I feel shy.