The Rise and Falls of Melody Wilson

Part 3

Living on the edge of town wasn't the greatest thing when you had to get to school early, or just wanted to get home.

It took almost 40 minutes just to get to the main part of town, where almost anything you needed was. Like hospitals, shopping centers and pharmacies, etc.

By the end of the day, all I wanted to do was go home and take a long hot bath then sleep.

I had already finished all my homework during class and I was ready to just relax, but the moment I opened the creaky old front door I knew that relaxing wasn't what I would be doing.

The musty stale air smell, mixed with spoiled food hit my nose as soon as I stepped through the threshold and shut the door behind me. The house was still and quiet like usual as I made my way down the hall to the living room.

I paused at the entrance to the living room and shook my head disgusted, my brother had definitely been here; take out boxes and plates still with food in them and cups with pop in it were strewn all over the small coffee table and couch.

From where I was standing, I could even see a few gnats buzzing all around it. I turned and went for the stair case leading up to my bedroom. With a small sigh, I changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top, trying to feel a little more comfortable in the hot musky air, and went back downstairs.  My fuzzy blue slippers silent on the plush tan carpet.

It was almost robotic the way I went through the sitting room, picking up the plastic containers and cups and tossing them in the trash, because by now it was something so normal and obvious for me to be doing. 

 It wasn't like my mother was here to help; in fact it was kind of her fault, too, that this place was such a pig-sty. She came home whenever she wanted, left whenever she wanted and messed up the place whenever she came through. Just like my brother.

The kitchen, I noticed when I came to put the plates away and tidy up, was the worst of it all.  Dishes piled up in the sink and spilt over onto the counter, all had food stuck on their surfaces.

I guess this is what I get for staying at Mariah's the whole weekend, I thought as I opened our old dishwasher and emptied it out.

The old house that we lived in was nice but it had its own old musty smell, and it didn't help when my mom, or brother, didn't bother to clean anything for days.

After rinsing out all the gross smelly dishes, I pulled out my secret weapons to help clean up the rest of the grime in the house. Lysol and Febreeze.

It was as I was lifting the couch pillows and cushions, spraying them down with the Febreeze, that I finally located and figured out the extra nasty smell.

 I picked up the small white roll of paper and placed it carefully, as if trying not to let the smell onto my own body, on the coffee table. It wasn't the only blunt I found, there were three or four more tucked into the sides of the sofa, underneath the cushions, like whoever had put it there didn't want it to be found.

As I was tossing the sources of the distasteful smell away, I heard a muffled crash of glass, coming from the back of the house.

I shut the lid of the trashcan and dusted my hands off as I made my way down the dim hallway.

I checked the small bathroom that came before the sharp turn and found nothing out of place. I closed the door behind me and went around the curve in the hall. The old study/office was at the end of it. I quickly shuffled over to it, easing the old door open I stepped into the dark room.

There wasn't much that I could see at first, but as my eyes adjusted to dim room I could make out a figure heaped over the office desk at the opposite end of room. I quickly flicked on the lights and let out a small gasp of surprise as I realized who it was. My mother.

I didn't hesitate as I rushed over to her body that was half sitting in the chair and half on the desk.

I knelt down next to her and I breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed her chest was still moving. I glanced around the room and saw what had caused the breaking glass sound.

An empty beer bottle that had fallen off when she moved.

There were a bunch of bottles around her, but amazingly no others had taken the shattering plunge.

I lifted my mother's head up, pushing her back against the chair as she let out a deep snore that shook her chest. I quickly dumped all the bottles into the trash bin next to the desk and scanned the desk for a damage that could have been caused by a spill.

Thankfully, there was none, but when I looked over the papers, I knew they were what caused my mother to bring out the six-pack. Bills.

Although, she had done this type of thing before without bills in front of her.

I slid my hands under her arms and pulled her off the chair, lugging her over to the Lazy Boy recliner in the corner of the room. With a final heave, I got her limp body onto the seat. I grabbed a small blanket and covered her.

Before leaving, I swept up the scattered glass and tossed them in the trashcan. I quietly shut the light off and left the room, leaving the door open so if she called I would hear.

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