The Funny Tale Of Agnes And Gale

12. Agnes.

After I get out of the shower and get changed, I hear my parents screaming from downstairs, "Agnes! Make us dinner!"

I roll my eyes and make my way downstairs. My parents are both watching a movie on their brand new flat screen TV that they just bought and I'm not allowed to use it because as mum says, I don't deserve "luxuries". I think about making sandwiches because they're simple to make and I'm definitely not in the mood to actually cook dinner today, especially after everything that has happened.

"Hey, do you think I can order take-out instead?" I ask my parents.

"Do you realise how unhealthy that could be? Unless you're getting us meals from a five-star restaurant, I want you to get back in the kitchen and make us something healthy to eat." My dad tells me in his stern voice.

"Whatever." I tell him before making us three sandwiches.

After I make all of us turkey sandwiches, we're all seated at the dining table and my parents are talking about which place they should go to next on vacation. Of course, they leave me out of the conversation because it's not like they're ever going to take me with them. Plus, my opinion has never mattered to them either.

"Which continent do you think would be best? Europe? Asia? South America? Tell me what you want, darling." My dad asks my mum. He speaks to her in a very endearing tone that he's never used with me before.

"We've been to Europe so many times. I want something new, something exciting." My mum tells my dad.

Watching them talk with so much admiration makes me wonder if parents ever love their kids as much as they love one another. I know that Jessica's mum used to kiss her on the forehead every day before she went to school. I hear Jessica's parents tell her they love her before she ends every phone call. My parents have never told me that they loved me. They've never cried in front of me. The only time they remembered I exist was when I ended up in a hospital because of my overdose.

"That's settled, then. I'll book our flights next week." My dad tells her, kissing her forehead.

"Where are you guys going?" I ask them, realising I zoned out of their entire conversation.

"Does it matter to you?" My dad asked me, as if challenging me to punch him in the face.

"Greg, don't be so hard on Agnes today. It might pressure her to take drugs or kill herself like that poor man at the end of the street." My mum says, shaking her head.

I try my best to ignore my dad's tone and my mum's comment even though it's making my body boil with anger. I take a deep breath and ask them again, "Where are you guys going?"

"We're going to Thailand." My mum says.

"When?" I ask.

"Next month. You're not coming with us if that's that you're thinking. You need to finish your studies. When you start earning your own money, you can start having your own adventures. Then, we wouldn't have to take care of you anymore." My dad says as if not being able to take care of me would be the best thing that'll ever happen to him. Maybe it will be. But then if his life would be so much better without me, why didn't he put me up for adoption? I have so many questions as to why my parents don't treat me like the parents on TV usually do but my family and I never talk about it. Sometimes I wonder if the way my parents treat me is normal.

"After that episode of yours, we wouldn't want you travelling with us. You know what happens to those people who try to smuggle drugs into —" My mother doesn't finish her sentence because I grab my plate and throw it against the wall.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I'm a recovering drug addict who needs help and the more you talk about this, the less it helps! Does it ever cross your mind that I'm like this because of you?!" I shout at her and make my way up to my room.

I lock the door behind me and thank the heavens that we took the long travel from New York to Indiana by car because I was able to bring drugs with me. I'm not even going to sugarcoat the word because that's just the way it is and I've come to terms with it. As trashy as it sounds, I wouldn't be able to take them with me if we came here by plane. That's another thing my dumb parents forgot to remember.

I go into my suitcase, which my mum didn't even check because she's too dumb to remember that too, and grab my ziplock and my grinder. I take some of the cannabis out and start grinding it. I wet my tobacco wrap before placing the cannabis inside. I roll it up and move to the window and open it. If the bars weren't in the way, I would jump out and run far away. I wouldn't come back but my parents would find me anyways. They always do.

I take long drags and feel it everywhere inside me. I know I'm going to regret this in the morning but when it gets too much, I forget that it's a problem in the first place. I just thank myself for settling on an easy drug.

I smoke until all the anxiety and anger is away and I feel free. I feel so free and I just want to freeze that feeling and keep it. I can hear my parents banging on my door and shouting at me for breaking the plate but I feel so free and their voices feel so far away. I ignore them until they stop and I hear them going to bed.

Maybe I'll start being clean tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month. Or next year. Or maybe I can just stay like this. If I end up in the hospital again, my parents would probably just let me die.