Thorns On My Rose: A Story of the Daughter of Robert Downey Jr. (EDITING)

Chapter 4 - Part 2 - An Unfortunate Event

Part 2

ONE YEAR AGO....

"Mom?" I said, unlocking the door to her new two story, placing my coat on the rack and laying my scarf on top of it.

It's almost habit, this little routine I perform every time I come over here. Keys go in the silver bowl on the table by the door, gloves are tugged off and placed along with my car keys on the chair in the living room. And usually I can hear her moving around in the kitchen or upstairs in her room. But not today, which is weird. Mom never falls asleep when she knows I'm coming by to say hello.

"Mom!" I shout again, looking towards the stairs. "Ma, I'm--"

I don't really finish because that's when I notice the smell and the smoke wafting out the kitchen. I roll my eyes and swear furiously before running to the source of the fire. A charred black pot sits on the stove, a small grey plume rising from it. I cough a few times before grabbing the extinguisher and putting out whatever food was in the pot. It seems to have be been bird of some kind.

After turning off the burner, cleaning the kitchen and trying to resuscitate the pot with plenty of suds and water, I'm a little more than pissed. I'm already running late to pick up Brent for our movie date.

"Ma!" I yelled, wondering if she was even home. "Ma, there was a fire! You fricking burnt your food!"

Though I come and visit her at least once every month, I'd never actually lived in the New Jersey home with my mom. I loved full-time in the city, spending most of my time with my grandparents. I'd just had my sixteenth birthday there, and Gramps had been the one to take me to get my driver's license. The high school went to was in Manhattan, and most of my life, including my friends and job, was there as well. But the one last piece of me resided here in this too-big house that had originally been meant for the two instead of one.

I glanced at my watch, sighing. There was no way I was gonna get to Brent before rush hour. 

I jogged up the stairs. "Ma? Ma, where are you?" I called.

As soon as I hit the top of the stairs I heard the gagging. Straining my ears, but sure enough, there it was again, this horrible retching sound. I ran down the hall, past the bathroom, game room, the guest room that was supposed to have been mine and into Mom's master bedroom.

The gags were unmistakeable now, and I knew it was coming from her closed bathroom doors. I hesitated, suddenly afraid of looking inside at the risk of what I'd find inside. I forced my feet to move towards the doors, pushing one open.

A sound between a strangled gasp and a groan came out my mouth.

My beautiful mother was clutching the toilet bow with white knuckles, vomiting into it. I could see the unmistakable color of red from where I stood.

"Mom?" I asked, confused and dazed. "Mommy?"

She turned, and her face, already ashen seemed to pale even further. An expression of a fierce embarrassment and fear filled her eyes. Before she could speak she coughed, making more blood splatter to the floor. Throwing myself into action, I ran up to her, grabbing a large towel from her sink on the way. Moving the towel to her lips, I slowly rubbed circles into her back until her coughing fit had subsided. She watched me the whole time, a weary look in her glazed over blue eyes. I swallowed hard, the adrenaline in my veins making me dizzy.