There laid my mom. She was as pale as a ghost, taking shaky, faint breaths. Her lips were so chapped and faded, it was as if there was never any color to them. She looked so delicate and fragile. She opened her mouth slowly, about to say her last words before departure.
"Never let them take the light behind your eyes, Frankie," she whispered slowly. After those words, she took one last shaky breath, until— her heart beat went flat.
I stood there, speechless. The woman that gave birth to me, raised me, and loved me, was gone. She was gone, and she was never coming home.
Before she passed, she told me that I was going to be okay. The thing is I'm not okay, and I never will be. That's just how I am. No one ever wanted to be near me in elementary school, middle school, or now. I am currently a senior with no friends, but that's just how I am, and I just so happen to like it this way.
At least I have Jamia. She doesn't go to my school, but we have been chatting online for quite awhile now. She also lives in Belleville like I do, but I've never had the chance to meet her. I was caught up in taking care of my mother's health.
My mom has been living with lung cancer since she was 18, one year after she gave birth to me. My father left us, about a few days after she was diagnosed. His excuse was that he didn't have the funds to care for my mom and I. It was true. He was a lazy ass who would sleep around, instead of getting a job to take care of us. My mom, who was sick and unhealthy, had to work extra shifts at 'Fiorella's Italian Diner', just so she could feed us. I ended up walking our neighbors' dogs, so we could afford the hospital bills as well. It was just me and her for the past 16 years, and we managed to be able to live. Well, that is until now.
My mom is gone now. There's nothing left to say. I have only 5 months left until I get evicted from my apartment. I guess I have to go searching for other jobs.
*time lapse*
It has now been about a few weeks, and I'm still freaking out. You'd think it'd still be because of my mother's death, but it wasn't. Sure she was the only light in my life, but I already knew this day would come. When we got the horrible news from the hospital, I knew that my mother was a goner. I already got my time to mourn over her , and now I need to try to survive. It's what Mama would want, I kept telling myself.
I decided on calling up Jamia. She was the closest person left to family that I've got. I began to dial her number. A voice suddenly spoke through the line, after a few rings.
"Hello?" a soft voice spoke.
"Hey Mia," I speak into the phone.
"What do ya want, Fucktard?" she responds.
"Shut up. This is serious business!" I practically yell into the phone.
"Oh, okay," she speaks softly, once again,"Wassup, Bean?" As you can tell, Jamia has made up a lot of different nicknames for me, depending on her mood. That little bitch is coming up with new names for me everyday, but, don't worry, I have nicknames for her. The thing is, some are in Italian and she doesn't know half the shit I call her. It's fun this way.
"Well..."I start, a tear rolling down my cheek, caused by the thought of her,"Well my mom—" I was cut off by a sob.
"Awe, Bean. I'm so sorry" Jamia said, calmly. She new about my mother's condition, and how much I loved her.
"It's okay, Mia," I reassured her, whilst wiping away a few tears.
"It's about time we meet anyways, Frankie," she said, positively, "Seems like you do need a little company."
