Weirdo - Jughead Jones

15: Mother

That evening I took Baby for a walk, which my mom usually did. She wasn't herself today. She was in her room most of the time, and I could hear the TV playing from inside. This wasn't one of her work days, but I wondered what she would do when she did have to go to work. Whenever I saw her she was out of it.

She was really broken up about my dad being missing. I was too, but she looked so scared. Maybe it was because she didn't have things to worry about or be around like I had. My friends helped to keep my mind away. I hoped that once she went to work it would distract her.

Once I got home I took Baby's leash off and refilled his water bowl. I was heading for my room when my mom's voice made me turn around.

"You took him for a walk?" I saw my mom emerge from her room. She looked tired and her hair was messy.

"Um, yeah." I didn't want to mention her neglecting his walk time.

She nodded and walked into the kitchen. She picked up a bottle of wine and opened it. I didn't question this; she drank wine on occasion. But it was usually when she was feeling especially good. Today she looked sad, almost scared. "Maddie, can you come here?"

I hesitated, but made my way to the kitchen and sat on one of the bar stools.

Mom poured a glass of wine for herself and sat with me. She smiled at me and raised her eyebrows, taking a sip. "So I've been meaning to ask you... Who's the boy?"

"What boy?"

"The one who walks you home. I see him through the window. He's pretty cute, Maddie."

I bit my lip and smiled, looking away. I felt a blush spreading to my cheeks.

My mom chuckled. "Ha! I knew he was special. So, what's his name?"

"Uhm, his name's Jughead." I looked up to see her reaction. I was surprised that, instead of finding a curious or skeptical look, I found a look of worry and realization. Her smile had dropped.

"Jughead..." She said. "Jones?"

"Yeah, Mom. How many other people named Jughead do you know—?"

"Madison." She said seriously. She looked me in the eye. "I don't want you hanging out with that boy."

I stared at my mother in disbelief. What about Jughead was so triggering for her? "What? Why?"

"Because I know his father. His father is a South Side Serpent." She almost spat the title. "I wouldn't be surprised if Jughead was one as well."

"What's a South Side Serpent?"

"The Serpents are a gang, Madison." She covered her eyes with her hand in stress. "I want you to stay away from them."

"But Jughead is so sweet. He's not like—"

"No, Maddie," my mom snapped. "If he's anything like the Serpents he's related to, he is. If not now, he will be. They're all the same."

"How do you know?" I asked her, annoyed. What problem did she have with the Serpents? With Jughead? "Why are you so against them—?"

"Because, Madison, I made the mistake of marrying one!"

I processed these words. "Dad?"

She sighed, lowering her voice. "Yes. Your father was a South Side Serpent. And look where that got him." She looked more sad than angry as she stood, taking her glass and going back to her room. "Just stay away from this boy. He's dangerous."

* * * *

Like hell was I going to listen. I don't care who my mom thinks Jughead is; I know who he is and he's not like whatever is in her mind. We would just have to be more careful about her seeing us.

The next day was closing day for the Twilight. Jug said he'd tried, but the mayor couldn't be convinced to save it. Andrews Construction was scheduled to demolish it on Monday, so Jughead had went to Archie's dad, who held the contract. Still no luck. What happened to the place was up to its anonymous buyer. It seemed kind of impossible for Jug to win the Drive-In back, but I felt bad for him. He was really upset about losing it.

While my mother was warning me about my dangerous boyfriend, B and V were breaking into cars. Well, one car: Ms. Grundy's. They found a lockbox containing a gun and an ID that had the name Jennifer Gibson. This led them to believe that she'd been involved in Jason's murder. But when they presented this to Archie, he came back with a different story. Betty repeated to me what Archie had learned. Jennifer had moved here, escaping from a relationship so abusive that she would have to change her name and keep a gun. She was still controlling Archie in some way, but I felt bad that we had gone so far.

I took Baby for a walk again. My mom was in her room even more often now. I still heard the TV, but nothing else.

I returned, freed Baby, and decided to wait in my room until Kevin and his dad would come pick me up. When I crossed the house I heard something from my mom's room. Over the sounds of the TV I heard her sobbing.

I carefully opened her door. "Mom?"

Her room was a train wreck. It was filled with the stench of beer and sweat. Clothes and blankets were on the floor, as well as empty beer bottles and cans of PBR. My mom was in her pajamas, lying in bed and staring blankly at the TV screen. She loosely held a beer in her hand. Streaks of tears stained her cheeks, her makeup smudged. How could this happen in such little time? Two days have passed since the news and she's like this. She looked fine yesterday. Well, almost.

"Mom...." I didn't know what to say, staring at the mess in front of me. "Are you okay?"

"No," she chuckled lightly. She then frowned. "I'm not okay."

"Is this about—?"

"He's gone," she sobbed.

"I know, Mom." I fought back my own tears. "But we're going to find—"

"No, you don't!" She snapped. She turned her head. Her expression was mixed with anger and grief. "You don't know anything!"

I was shocked. I had seen my mother tipsy, but never drunk. And she almost never yells at me. She barely let me see her cry. She would never let me see this side of her.

"He's gone," she said again, her voice soft. "And it's because of you."

"W-what?" The tears began to fall. Did she blame me for my father's disappearance? "What are you—?"

"He's gone! It's your fucking fault!"

"Mom, what did I—?!"

I screamed as I was cut off by something flying at me. It shattered when it hit the wall next to my head. She'd thrown her bottle at me.

I quickly shut the door and ran. I ran outside, stopping to sit on the steps to my porch. I hugged my knees and laid my head down, letting the tears go. What just happened? How is it my fault that he's gone?

She's drunk. She didn't mean it. I kept repeating it to myself. But sometimes being drunk allows people to open up and share true feelings, feelings that they'd been hiding.