I Am Trouble

20~ Two

The patio doors opened with a slight creak,

"Blair, get in here!"

I quickly grabbed my backpack which is holding my laptop and phone. My knees slid out from under my jacket and I was able to stand up.

I turned and faced Uncle Noah, who's jaw was slightly clenched.

My legs-which were now becoming cold with the winter wind-lead me closer to where he was standing. Once I had gotten close enough, he reached behind me and placed his hand on the middle of my back, pulling me inside the house. Not to mention, the very warm house.

"What on earth were you thinking?" He exclaims, closing and locking the glass, sliding doors.

"I was thinking that school is boring as hell, so I didn't go." I explained in all honesty.

He looked and me and sighed,

"Come on, let's get you a blanket."

I began taking my boots off and setting them aside. Then, slipping my jacket off before hanging it on the hooks next to the doors.

Uncle Noah lead me to the living room, and gestured for me to sit down.

I collapsed onto their grey couch-setting my backpack beside me. Momentarily, he tossed a soft, white blanket on top of me.

"Alright, spill." He demanded, sitting beside me.

I glanced at his blue eyes, that were very similar to mine,

"My mother doesn't give a shit about me. All she cares about is Dylan. I'd rather be in a home with parents who beat me because at least they know I'm actually there."

His jaw clenched slightly, but I couldn't tell if he felt sorry or if he thought I was being ridiculous,

"Blair, what did your mom do?"

"Our house supposedly got broken into, my mother told Dylan that he was not going to school. Then, when my dad tried to stick up for me, she rejected his comments and said I was going. She's got two damn kids! Why didn't she get an abortion if she didn't want me?" I rambled. But he didn't seem to mind.

"Why do you think she did that?" He questions, but it sounded more as if he was asking himself.

"She doesn't give a shit about me!" I exclaimed, sitting back on the couch.

He put his hand on my shoulder,

"You should've seen how excited she was when the doctor placed you in your moms arms-wrapped in a pink blanket."

I frowned in confusion,

"What was she like?"

He cracked a small smile,

"I've never seen her eyes light up so much, kid. She had tears of happiness, your dad was tearing up as well."

I looked down to the hardwood floor of their living room, not wanting to make eye contact. I had no response.

"Did your mom ever tell you about the relationship she had with our mom?" He asked me.

I shook my head in response before he continued,

"Our mom never payed much attention to her. Our dad was normally at work. So she wasn't eating, and she wasn't healthy. Your mom doesn't know that I noticed all of this, but I did."

"So she doesn't know how to act towards me, since she didn't have much of a mother figure..." I trailed off, finally having my answer.

Uncle Noah shrugged and nodded,

"Guess so."

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling light.

My mother was a victim of child neglect? Technically... yeah. No wonder she ignores me, unless she's yelling at me. But, she doesn't know how to treat me, and doesn't know what to do.

"How 'bout some hot chocolate?" He asks, and my head shot towards him.

"That would be awesome." I answered, with slight excitement in my voice.

He chuckled and stood up off of his spot on the couch. Then he patted my head and walked in the direction of the kitchen.

But, this only changed one thing. That one thing is how much I know about my mothers past-it increased.

~~~

"Blair!" My dads voice echoed through our house-Uncle Noah has just driven me home.

He rushed over to me and pulled me towards his body, wrapping his arms around me,

"We were so worried."

I was about to make a smart remark, but I didn't.

He let go, and then my mother and Dylan walked off of the last step.

"Hey, Blair." Dylan greeted with a small wave.

I smiled and nodded, it's just our thing.

Then my mother quickly walked over to me,

"I was so worried!"

She opened her arms to pull me into a hug, but I backed away,

"Like you care."

Shit, I'm dead.

I quickly walked around my family and rushed up the stairs.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." I mumbled under my breath as I punched my code into my door. Then the 'click' of it opening meant that I could open it-which I did. And I walked into the comfort of my room.

Closing the door behind me, I let out a sigh. A hot shower wouldn't hurt as of right now.

~~~

I grabbed my brush and ran it through my blow dried hair once more. Catching a few light knots.

Then, I set my brush down and went back out to the main part of my bedroom.

I've been gone for hours at a time, and when I get home, all my mother does is get pissed at me. Why did she choose this time to tell me that she was worried?

Was it because Uncle Noah was there? Or because Dylan was there?

Maybe.

But it's not even fair, she should treat me the same way in front of family that she does when we're alone.

A song that I listen to says the lyrics 'the real you is not defined by the size of your office, the real you is who you are when ain't nobody watching'. And, over a little while, I've realized how true that is.

The real me is who I am when nobody is watching. My real mother is the person I'll never be able to meet.

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