She Needs Love

Chapter Nine

Song: Smoke Filled Room - Acoustic Session by Mako*

"Ma, I'm home!"

Whenever Ida came home after a long school day, she wasn't met with a parent asking how her day had been. Nor a fervent pet greeting her at the door. Not even a hello. Just an uncomfortable silence that highlighted the fact that she was all alone.

Her mother would usually be home by now, but then again, she wasn't one to stick to the plan. Whether she was having a book club meeting with her friends – which happened to be code for happy hour – or staying home to binge watch a season of I Love Lucy on DVD, Ida would never know what she had planned. She was as unpredictable as the weather. And never to be seen without a bottle of cheap wine at her side.

"Ma?" Ida entered the living room, praying she would see her mother slouched on the couch with an old sitcom playing on their nineteen-inch TV. But to her disappointment and just as she expected the room was empty.

When she entered her mother's bedroom, she found her closet wide open and her clothes carpeting the floor. The minute room reeked of old perfume. That was never a good sign.

Ida sat down on the couch in their living room. She stared at the wall. At her favorite part of their apartment. A beautiful painting had been hanging in that exact spot for as long as she could possibly remember. It was mesmerizing. The painting was of a woman with long blonde hair and forest green eyes. Her untamed locks were strikingly similar to Ida's.

She had asked her mom, repeatedly, where the picture was from. Although there was no signature, Ida could easily tell that it was an original. Her mom would always brush off her questions or make up a lie. One time she claimed she had bought it at Target, he next time it had been gifted from a friend. Ida was an artist at heart. She could tell whether a piece was an original or mass produced.

The painting stole the attention away from the rest of their messy apartment. It stood out, in the middle of old newspapers and dead plants. It was the only thing she truly liked about their home. The only thing that made it a home at all.

More than three hours later, her mother lurched through the door. The penetrating stank of alcohol had stuck to her clothes and soon filled the entire apartment. Along with the usual smell of cigarettes, it gave Ida an urge to throw up.

She stood up unwillingly, prepared to greet her negligent mother. There were few things her mother could do in order to disappoint her, as her expectations were already considerably low. But when Ida realized that her mom had brought unexpected male company into their home, she couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going through her mother's mind.

"Lock the door, my daughter won't be home until three." Her mom was talking to the vagrant man she had brought with her while tugging desperately at his clothes. Unaware of her daughter being present in the suddenly ice cold room.

"The clock is half-past three, Ma."

Without saying another word, Ida grabbed her coat and left the apartment. This was the last place she wanted to be.

I want to go home.

Her heart was pounding vigorously.

I want to go home. That exact thought kept racing through her mind.

She wanted to go home. Not to the apartment. But her real home. To her old life. When her mom would braid her hair every morning and make her breakfast. When she drove her to school and asked her how her day had been. When she still had friends she could talk to. When people hadn't forgotten her name. When she was greeted by acquaintances on the street. When she still had someone, at least one person in this world who truly cared.

The thoughts of her old life, her better life, were one of the very few things that kept her going. Looking back at them reminded her of joy and happiness. Two things she couldn't bring herself to feel again.