The Broken Pieces Left Behind

Chapter 1

My mother was grieving. At least that was according to my therapist who explained to me that people grieved in different ways, at a different pace, but even this was a bit much. Huffing out my breath I studied the space that was once the living room now littered with various items of her clothing. It seemed like her closet had just thrown up its entire contents all over the room.

Pushing a lacy pink bra of the side table I deposited my backpack and sighed heavily, dragging my hands down my face. How is it that just a couple of hours by herself and Sara had managed to make a mess of the apartment like this? Was she a freaking toddler that needed a babysitter?Did I have to get constant supervision for her? 

It was frustrating, this role reversal thing we had here. Wasn't she supposed to be the adult, the one taking care of me? But picking up after her was a lot easier than dealing with the complicated Sara Adams. I did not in any way, shape or form like complicated. Complicated meant messy and while I was not Monk, I did not do messy.

With a headache now throbbing behind my eyelids I resisted the powerful urge I had to call her out here and yell at her. That would no doubt earn me the "My life is hard" speech that she liked to give, especially if she thought I was being mean to her. It was a speech that I knew exceedingly well, because apparently I'm a very mean daughter; but the thing about it was that one of us had to be responsible here. And if it wasn't her, by default that title fell to me.

I spent most of what was supposed to be a relaxing Saturday evening cleaning up - yet again - a mess that she had made. I cursed my way through the untidiness, grumbling about why I was the one doing this. I should really make her come out here and do this, but I would probably have an easier time trying to pet a feral animal. I was supposed to be curled up with a book or allowing myself the pleasure of watching the always adorkable Dylan O'Brien. 

I sighed and blew away the wisps of hair that escaped my braid and curled around my temples and neck. I was a reluctant teen mom.

Hunger pulled me away from my two hour - yes, two hours! - cleaning binge and it was only then that I noticed that it was almost seven. Way to late to even attempt to make something for dinner. Pizza was the first thing that popped into my head, it was almost always pizza anyway; it was a major food group, right. And since I thought that I deserved a reward for not going off crazy on my mom, pizza was decided upon. 

Fifteen minutes later after the apartment had been set to rightness and my Pizza had been delivered - a meat lovers special - Sara finally emerged from her beauty slumber. She was wearing a lacy black robe that was highly inappropriate and left very little to the imagination, but things like this had long stopped surprising me. She could come out wearing nothing but a pineapple on her head and I still wouldn't be surprised.

Sara was beautiful, gorgeous really, she had hair that was like spun rays of golden sunshine, eyes so blue it made you think of the sky on cloudless days. An oval face with high cheek bones and a pert nose slightly upturned nose. Her lips were full and lush and there was a sultry quality to the way she smiled that made you stop and take notice. 

With looks like hers it was no wonder that she was a model; still flawless even when she had just woken up. If that were me I would resemble an angry badger with a bird's nest on my head. Her modeling I would say, fed her insane notion that she could still act like a teenager but it brought in good money and she seemed to enjoy having people fuss over her. 

They weren't big shoots, mostly for catalogues and a few ad campaigns, but people still recognized her when she went out, and that she loved. 

We were in many ways- not counting the obvious personality traits -polar opposites. 

She had the whole blonde hair, blue eyed thing going on. I on the other hand was a brunette with deep brown eyes - I looked more like my dad. Sara and I did however share the same golden skin tone - thank you genetics for that one I wasn't one for the pale skin look. That was where I think our similarities ended. She had curves, that she loved flaunting. I was slender on a good day and too skinny on a bad one, which was surprising considering just how much unhealthy sweets I ate - again thank you genetics.

She lazily glided across the room, for she never hurried for anything even when she was late, and seated herself at the kitchen counter where the aroma of our dinner sat wafting around us - or at least me - like a sultry temptress. Life was just so much better with food. I placed a glass of orange juice in front of her and she wrinkled her nose at the glass before taking a sip.

"You're not going to say anything?" I blurted out finally unable to continue on with her silence as I turned to get us plates. 

"Say anything about what?" she wondered innocently lifting the lid of the pizza box.

I closed my eyes briefly counting down from five, begging for patience. It really shouldn't have surprised me that she didn't notice the place was clean, even though she had to walk through the living room to get to the kitchen. She never noticed anything anymore.

Our apartment was just an open space so it was hard to not notice the state of the place -even if she did. A step up led to the kitchen furnished with simple wooden cupboards,  partially blocked the view of the living room by a waist height counter. That was where we mostly ate. A corridor to the left led to the bedrooms and bathroom. There was a simple elegance in our home made up of clean lines, neutral colours and hardwood floors.

"The clothes mom," I prompted but her blue eyes just stared at me confused "Why was the entire contents of your closet on the living room floor?"

Her eyes glossed over and she began sobbing. The woman went from zero to one thousand faster than I blinked. I willed my expression to remain bland even as I rolled my eyes, melodramatic much. 

"I b-broke up with D-Damon."

Wow, I thought What an absolute shocker.

Damon was Sara's latest boyfriend and they had been dating for exactly four months, which was long enough for her to believe that she was in love, that he was the one and that they had something special that would last forever. 

"He said that things between us were moving too fast. And that we needed to take a step back, because he didn't see us really going anywhere. Can you believe that!? He told me he cared about me, that I meant something to him. I loved him and he does this to me! Six months of dating and he just believes that he can throw me away like this. Like some- some floozy," she wailed.

Floozy? Was that even a word? And what in the hell did it mean anyway?

I refrained from pointing out that it was only four months or that she thought that Eric, the guy before Damon or Dale the guy before Eric was something special too.  That would just earn me more tears and I was in no mood for that.

"I told him that if he really felt that way that I never wanted to see him again and that he should just leave. And do you know what that bastard did?" No, but I had no doubt that she was going to tell me "He just left. Just like that. He turned and walked away."

I pursed my lips. Seriously what the hell did she expect? The men she brought around here were first class losers. Did she honestly think that they would step up and be what she wanted them to be? Highly unlikely.

"I guess I'm just unlovable," she sobbed "Oh Becca! He broke my heart."

Even as I sighed at her silliness - she was seriously more of a teenager than I was and I was the seventeen year old here - I found myself walking over to her and wrapping my arms around her shoulders, whispering to her that everything was going to be alright, that Damon didn't deserve her, which was totally true. 

She wasn't always like this. I remember her being a normal mom once, before my dad died. One who cooked dinner and laughed about silly things, who always had a tidy house and took care of me - not the other way around. She used to wear actual clothes and not lounge around in her lingerie. A mother that cared about me.

 She never really answered my question, but I guess that she came home after her spat with Damon and decided that she needed to redecorate the place with her clothes.   

I may try to be a hard ass where she is concerned and I may talk a strong game but she is still my mother. Silly, immature, drives me crazy and a lot of other things but still my mom, still my family.