Masterpiece

Chapter 16

John's POV
I shouldn't have been as firm as I was with her, but I had to get my point across. I took one look at those bandages that adorned her and I knew that I couldn't let anything happen to her. Not again at least, so we drove in silence. I hated not talking to her, though. I just couldn't.

As we neared the outskirts of Connecticut, Ramona gave me directions to go to a particular town.

"Just take this exit and we'll be there," she said from the passenger seat. I did what I was told and soon enough we were sitting in front of Ramona's house. The place was huge. What did her parents actually do for a living?

She didn't get out of the car. She sat in her seat staring at the house looking wide eyed and conflicted.
"You alright?" I said.

"Yeah. Just peachy," she says still gazing out of the window. I look at her with a worried expression.

"You're gonna be fine."

Ramona's POV
I was definitely not going to be fine. His words of encouragement just weren't encouraging. I didn't know what I was going to say. I was starting to regret coming here. It was too sudden; I didn't have anything planned.

The cold wind hit me as I stepped out of the car. John held up crossed fingers when I looked back at him.

I walk up the oh so familiar steps and ring the equally familiar doorbell. I rang it again when no one answered. I step inside letting the door creak in front of me. The house was dim and quiet. I was starting to think no one was home, but my mother's car was in the drive way and she didn't have anyone who would pick her up in their own car considering my mother didn't have that kind of relationship with someone where they'd share a drink at the bar or go shopping.

"I'm home," I half whisper through the house.

No one answers, though I do hear a faint sound coming from the living room. I walk through the hallway into the living room and find my mom lazily thrown on the couch, watching something that I couldn't concur because it was in Spanish. In her hands is a half drunken bottle of what I'd assume is alcohol, because she looks peculiar.

"Oh, Ramona, what a surprise. I didn't expect to see you." Though her speech was slurred a little, she still had that condescending tinge in her voice.

She switches off the TV and stumbles up to me. She pulls me into an awkward hug and pulls away to take another swig of the numbing liquid. I never thought of my mom as a drinker. She'd never drink around the house nor had I seen her do it at celebrations, but here she was in front of me going to town on whatever was in the glass bottle.

"Mom, you need to stop drinking this." I reach to grab the bottle, but she snatches her hand away from my grasp.

"You will not come into this household and pick and choose what I am privileged to drink." Her once ageless face is now unrecognizable; the alcohol's handiwork. She had bags under her eyes that resembled deep crescents and her eyes were puffy. She had probably taken it much harder than I did.

"Ok, well can we just talk then, please?" I ask sitting down on a soft chair in the room.

"Fine. Why don't we talk about how you abandoned this family, huh?" Her words struck me hard in my chest.

"I didn't abandon this family. Dad wanted this for me and you didn't get what you wanted. Don't try and make it seem like I walked out on you, because I didn't." I say this through gritted teeth." Why didn't you tell me about dad? It's sickening to have to find out about it through a newspaper."