Overjoyed

Chapter 16 - Its harder than you think

My mother plagued my mind day and night so it came as a welcome relief when Dan called on Thursday evening saying they didn’t have any shows that weekend and he’d be coming to see me. My heart jumped in anticipation. After reluctantly ending the call, Courtney interrogated me about Dan and I gushingly admitted little details. Courtney licked her lips and threw her head back giggling at my obvious infatuation.

The doorbell sounded and I girlishly rushed to get the door before Court could. When I opened the door a once pretty though now dishevelled looking woman stood before me. Her hair a mess, her light brown eyes wide and frightened. “Eliza…” she began. “Mom?” I spluttered because of the huge lump in my throat.

Courtney had long excused herself and I sat on the couch sipping a warm mug of tea and across from me sat Kate. My mother. She was gaunt and thin, shaking before me. Clear effects of prolonged drug use. “Why are you here?” I spat. “I, I’m sorry” she stuttered, “I have to talk to you.” I stared at her. “I have cancer” she said, and almost like clockwork went into a fit of coughs.

I looked at her, lost for words. Anger and disgust bubbling inside of me. I was utterly floored that after all this time she actually had the audacity to come in here with a sob story and expect me to care. “I know I didn’t do right by you, but I came here to fix things before I… the cancer is too far along for treatment” she said shakily. “Didn’t do right?” I snapped, losing my composure, “You left us. You just gave up, became a fucking junkie whore, and then just left. There is no way in hell you can fix that. Not almost twenty years later.” Tears began streaming down my mother’s cheeks as she said, “Your father’s death broke me. You can’t begin to understand how hard it was for me.” Breathing deeply to regain my equilibrium, I said, “And not for Michael and I? We were just kids. We needed you to be the adult and protect us but instead you recoiled, holing yourself up in your bedroom like a recluse.” Quietly she said, “I’m sorry. If I could go back, I’d do things different.” She sat hunched up and her skin looked weather-beaten and sallow. Her hair was washed out and stringy and her clothes several sizes too big, clearly Aunt Maria’s. “Do you know what happened on the night you left us? How Michael died at the hands of one of your fucking patrons because you had just taken off? Knowing those awful men would come back there. You left your children alone, in a house where you knew those men would come looking for their crack whore mother!” I hissed, the words spewing out of me like lava. My mother started shaking uncontrollably, coughing as if she would bring up a chunk of her lungs. She fell from the chair, collapsing in a pile, coughing and jolting. Instinctively I rushed over to her. “Mom!” I yelled, the word foreign on my tongue.