The Year My Mother Left me

Part 4: African King +Chicken Alfredo

Miloh is snorting vitamins off my kitchen table again when Tammy calls me to say goodbye.
"I asked Noah to check up on you, maybe you guys could go somewhere fun," she says.
I scowl at the idea of being a charity project for her new raver boyfriend Noah A.K.A Basshunter85.

"Im alright thanks. Miloh is looking after me," I say. I look at Miloh; he is busy massaging his temples in an attempt to soak up the contents of a GNC stock room. 

"Whatever babe, he has your number and you're going." I smile at the command in her voice. Tiny commander. Tiny Tammy.
"I'll miss you," I say. My voice cracks; I so don't want her to leave.
"I'll miss you too," says Tammy.

The call ends. Irritatedly I look at Miloh who is checking himself out in my full length mirror. Spencer watches him from the corner of the room, his one blue eye, one brown narrowed in predatory dislike. I feel this urge to play a part; to push reality away with theatrics, like my mother would. I imagine tightening my non-existent apron, wiping the sweat from my brow, stirring the imaginary soup I've cooked from scratch and waiving my wooden spoon at Miloh.

Get up you lazy oaf! I would say. Go earn some money. Buy some groceries! Get off your ass! I would lament and complain, like those women who have been married for a hundred years. Can't you see our hypothetical children Masha and Tibet (yes, those would be their names) have nothing to eat? I want to blame him so badly. I want to blame someone. I just want someone to help.

I can't seem to bring myself to say the words and deep down I know that none of this is his fault. 

Instead I go through the mail; that's what responsible adults do when they are angry.
I flip through the bills in my hands and I flick them on the table; I'm like a dealer dealing myself a bad hand. Some of them are red and some are standard black but I don't know what any of it means and I wish I were colorblind. I only open the one that says Final Notice. It's one thing when they bombard you with response needed. It's another entirely when they say Final Notice- it means they've given up on you. It's somehow worse and very...well, final.

The letter says that the rent for my apartment is overdue. We will be evicted in one month if we don't pay. At first I think Ha! Ha! The child service agent won't be able to come 'check up' on me if I'm evicted, but then I realise that in that scenario I would also be homeless and the joke is on me. I open my computer and check my emails- there's an email from my mom and I feel a current of excitement run through me despite the bad news I just got.

From: Mummy

My love, my darling. My Mojie.

I miss you so much. I wanted to message you but I was not in a good place. I was thinking a lot about life, and what is even the point of it all. You know? We live and then we die, like robots. But then everything changed... I want you to know everything can change in just one second. DON'T EVER GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS. You are a precious stone from heaven.

I am now so happy, I met someone and fell in love. I call him my viking because he is so tall. He makes me so happy.

Im coming home really soon and I'm going to send you money next week.

How are you? How's spencer?

Remember dreams are the best currency we have.

-Your mom.

Emails from my mom are like those half-baked inspirational quotes you see on Myspace. She's like a bipolar spiritual guru- "Guys everything is so beautiful and life is so wonderful. No wait... I changed my mind; we are just eating, shitting machines; prisoners in some alien life forms video game. Life is pointless.

It's like watching someone experiment with uppers and downers whilst they read fortune cookies out loud.