Some things change but they don't get better. I'm so sick and so tired of trying to tell them that I'll never do it, I'll never make it alone.
The next morning, I was disturbed awake to the howl of my alarm clock, and my mom arguing with somebody in her bedroom. It was a one-sided conversation, and there were a lot of pauses; I realized rather quickly that she was talking to somebody else on her phone. I listened in, not feeling at all guilty about my apparent eavesdropping. If something - or somebody - was bothering my mom, I wanted to know about it.
"N-no, you listen to me!"
Pause.
"Well, fine. Fuck you and goodbye."
Pause.
"...Dickhead."
I chuckled lightly. I loved it when my mom swore. It mad her seem more human - more like a person - and not just plain old 'mom.'
I exhaled and stood from my bed, heading towards my mom's bedroom door. I knocked quietly, two times, and opened it to peer inside when she called, "Come in." I poked my head around the wood and smiled at her.
"You okay?" I asked, and she nodded, returning my smile.
"Well, I just got fired, but I'm as okay as I can be, I guess."
My smile faltered. "Fuck," I seethed, frowning at nobody in particular. Right then I was picturing my hands around that boss bastard's neck.
"Yeah," she sighed, sounding deflated. "It's fine, honestly. I hated that job," she tried to reassure, but sounded no less assured herself. "At least now I can find a job that I like," she added. "I just need to find one fast, and I don't know if that's going to be easy." I nodded, agreeing with her.
"Yeah, nowadays it's hard as anything to find an employer that'd hire you out of the blue. They're not exactly growing on trees."
"Ah, shit. Thanks for making me feel better, Frankie," she snorted, her eyes glaring at me with daggers.
"No problem, mom," I grinned and walked back to my bedroom to get ready for school.
"Frank, are you ready yet?" My mom yelled to from the bottom of the stairs. I groaned and opened my door, starting down the stairs. "If you wanna be on time you need to get your little butt in my car in the next five minutes," she informed me, directing me outside to the car.
The journey to school was quiet, mainly because of how perturbed and frail I was beginning to feel the closer we got to the school.
"How are you feeling?" My mom asked me, the concern in her words poorly hidden.
"Alright, I guess," I murmured, fiercely scratching the back of my hand. She nodded her head towards my hand, tutting with her tongue and her teeth.
"You know you shouldn't be doing that."
"I can't help it," I shrugged. "It's a nervous thing. I guess the distraction helps me cope with the anxiety."
She exhaled loudly. "You have no reason to be nervous, Frank. Everything'll be okay, I promise."
I scoffed. "Sure."
A few minutes of silence passed between us and my mom slowed the car. "There's Mikey," she pointed out to me. "Why don't you go and catch up with him?"
I sighed. "Thanks for the half-a-ride to school," I laughed quietly, before kissing her on the cheek exiting the car to run towards the awkward-kneed boy.
"Hey, Mikes." I spoke hesitantly, feeling my nerves begin to get the better of me. What if he was pissed with me? What if he didn't want to talk to me? I could apologize, but there were still doubts in my mind telling me that he wouldn't want to listen to it.
