Keeping A Straight Face | ✔

02 | Solace

T A Y L O R' S   P. O. V.

Thursday, January 31st, 2014  

I shoved my house key deep into the front door's lock, fighting against the rust embedded within it, and turned it. Through the slab of oak-wood, I couldn't hear a thing.

Was mum feeling better, or did she pass out? 

I twisted the doorknob and slowly opened the door.

"Ana?" I shouted, "I'm home!"

She poked her head out from the kitchen and whispered: "be quiet." She gestured for me to come to the kitchen.

"Sorry I was a little late," I whispered, "Darko dropped me off."

She was brewing some chamomile tea; mum's favourite. Ana had explained everything that had happened - mum came home, had a fit (she threw some plates; Ana had already cleaned them up), drank a bottle of whisky before blanking out on the couch. Ana had managed to get her to her room just before I came home, but Mum was still unstable.

"She said Dad's name before, Tay. She has been saying it too much; I don't think her pills are working anymore."

"Or maybe she's just not taking them," I stated, sighing. "I'll go check her out."

Ana handed me the warm cup of the tea as I slinked out of the kitchen. I made my way to mum's room quietly, being careful not to spill the warm beverage. I hovered over the door, leaning so my ear was just touching it, and there it was - the softest, most heartbreaking sobs were audible.

She misses dad so much; it's the most distressing thing to listen to.

"Mum... I'm here," I said as I softly pushed her bedroom door open, "are you okay?"

Mum slowly looked up at me from her bed, her eyes puffy from her tears and her face flushed. Her room was an absolute mess; there were pillows scattered everywhere, the blanket was twisted up, a glass had been knocked off of her bedside table, and there were many empty bottles of alcohol scattered at the base of her shelf, a buildup from the past few weeks. She began to sob harder as I approached her bed.

"Oh my God," she said suddenly, wiping a tear from her face. "M-Matthew, you're back! I - I... I thought you..."

Matthew? She... she just mistook me for my dad. Oh christ...

I felt my cheeks burn up as she clumsily stumbled towards me, wrapping me in a tight hug. My heart fluttered, but not in an affectionate way. I felt nauseous. I can't believe she just mistook me for him. Her soft sobbing sent ice shards through my chest.

Mum was stuttering all over her words, her palms were shaking as she began to speak, "You... you've come home. I-I've missed you. I love you so much-"

"Mum... it's not Dad. You're hugging me- Taylor."

I felt her arms falter as she looked up at me. Her eyes began to get watery again, and her smile faded into a sad frown.

About four months ago, dad and I were driving home from our routine Saturday morning fishing trip. We were meant to stay out for longer, but I was extra tired that morning because I had a performance the night before, so we cut the trip quite short. It was roughly 3am, so we were both exhausted. The next thing I knew, something had hit our car. The force... It's indescribable. I remember flailing half awake as our car tumbled and tossed and turned off the street into a thick tree. It was horrific.