Short stories that lead to tragedies

Mother figures

Steven was 23 and was a retired army veteran. Steven took over my uncles role over time, But the thing was. He wasn't my uncle. Steven was Steven. He was pretty typical for the first few months he lived with us. But hospital visits and paychecks changed him. Steven got himself addicted to pain medication, which made him almost not functional at all. Now there were 2 unfunctional adults in our household.

During 7th grade, I didn't know much about my mother beside, that she would lock herself in her room with cheap wine and only come out to get more. Most nights she was on the phone with friends complaining about her new boyfriend she found online or about how my father was a lousy good for nothing cheater that left her with a troubled child. My mother would not be home when school was over, and most likely I would not see her until the next day or two. What was I supposed to expect from her? Was she supposed to love me? or feed me? or even buy me new clothes? I didn't expect anything from her. If I had no expectations she couldn't let me down. At night I would find myself being woken up by a screaming woman I did not recognize as my mother. She would hit me and cry to me mistaking me as my father. She saw him in me. She would scream 

"You Left Me!"

"This is all your fault" 

By the end of her rants, I would find her passed out in the living room with a bottle of wine.  I would find myself in the early morning cleaning up the mess she left behind as later in the night she would wake up and go to the bar down the block to try and find herself in another man. Every night it was something new that she would tell me. It would start by her telling me how she felt that she was gonna make our lives amazing and we were gonna be happy together and by the end of the night my arms would have bruises and marks from her nails. 

I was embarrassed of my mother. 

"Hey Olivia, can we hang out at your place?"

"Oh sorry, I'm busy this week"

I was busy taking care of her every week, It was my job. Cleaning up after a 44-year-old woman. 

expectations 

When parent-teacher conferences would roll around she would show up drunk, but no one noticed. She put on a show for everyone. I guess I learned how to put on a facade from my mother.