Let It Be Me

Let It Be Me- Chapter Six

Chapter Six.

I’m suddenly awoken by the sound of the front door slamming shut. Mom must be back from work. I roll over and look at my phone. The bright light in my still dark room assaults my eyes, so I squint for a moment before reading the time. It’s only 4:12. I curl up again and try to fall back asleep.

I’m lightly asleep a few minutes later, when the sound of soft sobs echoing up the stairs wakes me back up. I groan, turning over and covering my head with a pillow, hopeful to block the sound. It’s quieter for a few moments, before the sobs grow louder.

Exhausted and frustrated, I call out, “Oh my God, Shut up Mom!”

It may seem harsh, but I’m sick of this. I’ve tried talking to her, and I’ve offered to help, but she never acknowledged the fact. It’s like she’s completely shut down on me. She won’t talk to me, about anything. Trust me, I’ve tried. After a couple of months, I just gave up. I understand she’s in shock, and that this is hard, but that gives her no right to shut me out, and leave me to fend for myself. She’s not the only one that’s hurting, you know.

Somehow I manage to fall asleep despite my mom’s annoying cries, and the next time I’m woken up, it’s by my alarm clock. I roll out of bed, and start getting ready. I head downstairs once I’m fully dressed and ready. As I pass through the living room, I see my mom still awake, sitting on the couch staring into space.

“Morning, Mom.” I say plainly as I continue on into the kitchen.

She doesn’t reply, and shoots me a look instead.

I stop walking and turn back to face her. “What’s your problem?”

Silence.

I roll my eyes and shrug it off. I’m not gonna stress myself over her anymore. I’ve done what I can, but if she’s going to be like this, then that’s her issue, not mine. After breakfast, when I pass back through the living room, she decides to speak up.

“Do you really want to know what “my problem” is, Jessica?” she says coldly.

“Oh look! It speaks!” I snap back. I’ve lost any patience and tolerance that was left for this woman.

“Excuse me?”

“I think you heard me.” I retort.

“I cannot believe you!” My mom says, her voice rising, “After all I’ve been through, you still have the gut to treat me so awfully! ”

“After all YOU’VE been through?! Mom, you’re not the only one who lost somebody! I loved him just as much as you did!” I cry out to her, “And at least I tried to help you! At least I reached out to you!”

“Are you saying I DIDN’T try to help you?!”

“Yes mom, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

I can see fury build up in her eyes.

“JESSICA, I WANT YOU TO LISTEN TO ME WHEN I SAY—“

I interrupt her. “No mom. I’m done listening. I’m done trying. And I’m done with you. I don’t have time for this anymore.” I swiftly walk away, pick up my backpack by the front door, and head out to the bus stop, even though I’m a few minutes early.

The bus finally arrives, and as I board into the sea of familiar faces, I know that I’m visibly upset, but I just do what I do best—pretend to be absolutely fine. I plaster a smile on my face as acquaintances ask me if everything’s all right. I reassure them, knowing in the back of my mind that there are many more concerned questions to come throughout the day.