These Broken Souls | COMING SOON

Part I: 5

five

JORDAN

"I'm so disappointed in you, Jordan. I can't believe you let me down again – look what you've done today!"

I sit staring through the window in silence finally feeling the guilt seep in. The distress in Mom's voice is similar to the pain of scraping off a scab on a newly-healed wound.

The thought of going home makes me feel sick. It shouldn't. But it ties a knot in my chest that makes it hard to swallow. I think about which of Darren's harsh words I'll have to hear. My brother's a bully – an angry one. And I wonder if Dad is going to be sober for once. But it won't make a difference whether or not he is because his absence is more prominent than his presence.

"How could you be so careless? We could have lost you today. Do you understand that? That's the problem with you, Jordan, you never think! What if you got into an accident?"

I tear my eyes away from the streetlights and cars that pass us to look at her. The inside of the car is dimly lit but I can see that the strands of her brown hair have come out of her loose top knot. Her bold eyelashes curl over her eyes. But it strikes me that even in this light, I can clearly see how her skin is so withered, so tired.

I swallow before I speak. "Well, I didn't." I say slowly, my voice is calm and apologetic. "It's okay, Mom. I'm here and I'm fine. You don't need to worry."

She turns to glare at me and I have to look away – not only because I can't face the disappointment in her eyes but also to watch the road ahead, while her eyes are on me.

"You don't want me to worry?" She echoes, her voice full of spite. "Are you kidding me, Jordan? Of course I'm going to worry. You know your dad isn't around anymore like before because of all the drinking. And when something goes wrong, I have to pick up the pieces on my own. I can't let anything happen to you. How would I forgive myself?"

My gaze is still on the road ahead, my defeated voice barely audible. "You're going too fast, Mom. Please keep your eyes on the road." My heart beats quicker. She slows down, but she carries on talking, but this time her voice is gentler, cautious.

"You know we need to stick together – you and Darren – for me. We need to help your dad. But you getting into trouble with the cops everytime doesn't help." Mom sighs, her voice only a whisper. It makes me feel numb inside.

Dad can help himself. I want to say. He got himself into this mess in the first place. His social drinking took a turn to alcoholism and now addiction blurs his life. I tell myself that I don't care, that I'm done trying. Mom takes cares of us and makes sure we see the good, even as she does her best to shield us from the turmoil. But she doesn't deserve it one bit. I'm scared that Dad will eventually drink himself away one day, and take Mom with him because of everything she puts into him. And on top of that, she has to deal with me. My heart is heavy with guilt.

My tongue weighs a ton when I speak. "It won't happen ."

"You're damn right it won't – you got your car taken away!"

"I completely deserve it."

"But it's not only about the car, Jordan. I don't deserve having you break my trust all the time. The empty promises, the carelessness. Getting phone calls about you and thinking that you're hurt somewhere. Worrying myself sick every time you don't come home, when instead you're out here having the time of your life and getting into trouble. Do you think I deserve any of that?"

"No, of course you don't, Mom." I sigh, finally angling my body to face her. I want to take her hands in mine - I would have if she wasn't driving – and tell her that I love her and I'm sorry for letting her down, and that I want to do so many great things but I need her with me because I'm nothing if she gives up on me.

"So why do you do this to me, Jordan? Am I a bad mother to you? Because I don't want to lose you."

"You are not going to lose me, Mom." I say with a stern edge to my voice.

"You were caught speeding – you could have died today!"

"I know, it was stupid. I was stupid, I realise that. I'm just figuring things out. Please let me. I'm going to be okay."

"Then what am I doing wrong?"

The pain in her voice makes me wince. I frown, shaking my head. "Nothing."

"I don't get it... I never had any problems with Darren at this age."

"Well, I'm not Darren!" I shout, scowling at her. "And Dad wasn't like anything he is now back then."

And then bright lights blind my vision. It's a blur of red that only lasts a moment and its shining from the car in front of us. A car that suddenly seems to be getting closer and closer... until I realise that our car is the one that's moving. "Shit, Mom, hit the brakes!" As a reflex of mine, though it's useless, I stamp my foot down on the floor of the car, where the brakes would have been if I were driving. The tyres screech and we lurch forward against the impact of the car's sudden jolt. The pressure of the seatbelt on my chest is so intense I tug it away from me as far as it goes. The car ahead has only stopped at a red light, like we were supposed to. I run a hand through my hair, glad that we narrowly missed an accident. "Are you okay?" I ask Mom between my heavy breathing.

"I'm fine." She nods. Her eyebrows are knitted together and she looks flustered, although now her attention is back on the road. I see the whites of her knuckles as her grip on the steering wheel is tight, only releasing to shift gears. There's a short silence between us until the stoplight finally turns green and we drive on steadily.

"Am I not a good enough mother to you? Clearly I'm doing something wrong." Her voice is small as she ponders aloud more to herself, as if I'm not in the car with her. "I try so hard with you, Jordan, I do, but what am I missing?"

I grit my teeth in an anger that I can't help but feel. Her words make me feel like a stranger. An alien. Mom isn't missing anything. Her love for me is in the tired smile she always gives me. It's the dark circles under her eyes. It's all the times she checks on me at night. And so I'm the one that's missing. I'm the one who is never enough. The odd piece that never fits.

Instead of slamming my head against the dashboard like I want to, I breathe deeply, relieving my body of any tension. The last thing I want tonight is to do or say anything else I'll regret. "Mom," my voice low, "Can we please talk about this when we get home?"

But as the car travels along the road, home seems farther than ever.