Playing With Fire || d.h

105. Reunion

After what Dodie said, I decide I really should go visit home. Early this morning, I take a shower, dress in black jeans, a striped shirt, and my winter jacket. I pull on my shoes, grab my bag, and walk out the door.

I may have just seen Macy, but I haven't seen Jack, Kenny, or the rest of my friends in awhile. Also, I can't remember the last time I saw my mom. It might've been my birthday party, which was months ago. So much has happened since then, and I immediately feel guilty. The last time I talked to her was a phone call, when I told her I was getting married. Since I haven't seen her in forever, she's my first stop.

After such a long ride, the car pulls up outside my mother's house, and I get out of the car. Dainty Christmas lights hang from the fence, flickering on and off. I immediately think of when I left to move to London. She had driven me to my apartment, but hadn't left with so much as a goodbye. I know she was just salty because she thought I was being irrational, but it still hurts a little bit every time I think about it. However, I can't get too upset. My mom's never been the most motherly of sorts. I shouldn't expect too much from her.

I pay the driver, then step out of the car. As I walk to the door, I realize I probably should've told my mom I was coming. I thought it would be a fun surprise, until I realize she might have something going on today. I then realize I'm hoping she has something going on, so I have an excuse to leave and go to Macy's. I push the urge to just straight up leave out of my mind, and walk up to the door. I rap on the wood three times, and hear barking coming from the other side.

Since when did we have dogs?

I remember when I was turning ten years old, and was leaving subtle hints that I wanted a dog for my birthday. I thought my hints were working, as my mom kept mentioning things about dogs, and wasn't really telling me no to the idea. Until finally, my tenth birthday comes along. I hastily got ready for school that morning, and run downstairs. I don't know what I was expecting, but there was no dog, not even a gift.

My mom sat at the kitchen table, and when she saw me staring at her, her face scrunches up.

"What're you looking at?" She snarls, and anger bubbles in my stomach.

"Do you know what day it is?" I ask tentatively, not sure I was ready for the answer.

"It's fucking Thursday. Why am I spending stupid gas money to bring you to school every morning when you don't even know the days of the week?"

I had stormed out of the house, ignoring my mom's shouts back at me. That was the day that I realized, not only did I not have a father, I didn't have a mother, either.

The door opens, and my mom comes into view. Her eyes are droopy and glossed over, her greasy hair pulled up into a bun. She's dressed in a woman beater, loose jeans, and a scraggly cardigan.

"Um...hey, mom," I greet her tentatively. The stoney expression on her face doesn't shift, but she moves out of the way of the doorway, letting me in. I carefully walk into the house, and a sharp odor reaches my nose. It's not until I look in the kitchen, that I see three half-empty bottles of liquor sitting on the table, and sigh heavily. It's not even ten in the morning, and she's already drunk.

"What're you doing here?" She asks me, her hands on her hips. As she does, a fat boxer runs up to me, panting as drool drips out of its mouth. I hesitantly pet them behind it's ears, and the dog calms down, flopping onto the ground.

"You got a dog?" I ask her.

"You didn't answer my question," she replies. She then walks up to the table, grabs a burning cigarette from an ashtray, and plops into a chair, crossing her legs. She takes a large puff, not taking her angry eyes off me. After exhaling, she adds, "Did that boy leave you? Has your oh-so-glamorous life finally caught up to you?"