Curiosity is a dangerous thing

Chapter 8

"Oh my god!" almost screams Kate. "How come everything happens when I'm away." she complains. At last, she has come back and I can talk to a decent human being about my problems. Which let me tell you, they're eating me alive.

   The events of Friday's night play like a movie in my head, but on constant repeat. And I linger to them as much as I do, because I haven't seen him for about 3 days. Not that long, I agree. But after nearly kissing each other, shouldn't we at least talk about it? Or finish whatever was started, I'm fine with both, actually.

"So you do like him." Kate says with a big wicked smile. "I knew it!".
"How did you know Sherlock? We didn't even talk about it and you have seen us together like two times? CIA could use your skills." I say ironically, to which we laugh. I'm trying to come off as cool and chill, but my right leg won't stop shaking.

I'm nervous, as always. I hate admitting things, that could possibly make me embarrassed.

"You're forgetting I was the one who saw you two at the club all over each other." she makes a face to make her point more valid.
"I'm not forgetting anything. It's just that my nerves the past 3 days aren't doing well." I say and grab a glass to pour some juice in it.

"Why? You like him and he likes you. What's the stressing part? I don't get it." she confesses truthfully.
"That's exactly the stressing part, right there, in your face." I say, feeling on edge again.

I can't describe to her fully why I'm feeling that way. But I know. I already struggle to find balance between my mom, college and now work. I have to stay focused. Even though it sounds pretty sad, even to me.

"Anna, look at me." she snaps her fingers at me. " You need to calm down. Or else the every day mental breakdown will be your best friend from now on." she tells me with a straight face.
I realize, I was a bit harsh to her, when she speaks again.
"Well apart from me, obviously." she smiles sweetly. I smile back, feeling relieved, but still guilty.
"You're right, I need to calm down immediately. I mean it's just a boy, right?" I sigh.
"That's my girl." she smiles proudly and gives me a pat on the arm.
I lean to hug her.
"I should go, my mom wants me to do the laundry." I lie.
"Okay, call me later if you need anything. I'll head to work soon, just so you know." she shouts as I close the door.

   The laundry was an excuse to leave earlier. In fact, I have to keep an eye on my mom.

As I was cleaning the other day, I found a white pill under the sofa. And 2 under her bed. And then I was skeptical, so I started "cleaning" her drawers. And guess what. Several boxes of pills were all over them. Anti-depressants and tranquilizers. I don't even know if she has a prescription for them. But that's not the worst part. She still drinks. A lot. In combination with the pills.

   I'm trying so hard not to snap and lose my cool. Someone has to remain strong in this house, after all.

    Sometimes I wonder if she realizes how much weight I'm carrying on my shoulders. Doesn't she want me to live like a normal kid my age? She has fallen down a dark hole and she's still falling. But I don't know if I have the capacity to catch her.

   I assume she's probably sleeping, so I open the door and enter slowly on the tips of my toes. There is no need, however, because I hear her crying and run to check on her.

"Mom are you.." I don't manage to finish my sentence because of her screaming.
"I can't believe it! I can't! I just can't." she repeats, looking at a piece of paper on her hands. I am dumbfounded as I don't understand fully what's going on. I lean over to grab the paper and read it.
   Just by the choice of words, I know who has send it. But the remainder text brings me a surprise, I don't think I was ready to face.

~ Dear Emily and Anna,
I'm writing to inform you that I'm getting married and I did not want you to hear it from anyone else. Because of that, I decided to add 1000€ up to the amount of money I provide you every month with. Take care! ~

I read it again. And again. And again. I'm trying to comprehend. Not the content. But the situation I'll be forced to live in from now on. The hell, to be precise.

   Under different circumstances, I'd feel sad that my dad, whom I haven't seen for a year, couldn't care less about us.

But the sadness I'm feeling comes from a different place. I know for a fact that my mom will get worse. I just don't know how much worse. Because all this time, even with the drinking and the pills, she was trying to hold herself up in anticipation of my father coming back.

She'll fall further and further to the blackness now that she knows he's not. I just hope she'll stop dragging me with her.

"Don't you have anything to say?" she shouts at me, crying and pulling her hair.
"I'm sorry" I mumble and get out of there, letting the paper fall to the floor. I have to call someone, she needs help. I look at my phone, feeling unsure about my next move. Finally I dial a number.
"911. What's your emergency?"

   I always felt uneasy in hospitals. The smell of alchohol didn't indicate clearness to me, only sickness.
I sit on a chair outside of her room. I feel so lonely right now. I stare at my phone and dead silence stares back at me. A black screen. That's all I have for now.

   I want to shout at the top of my lungs. About everything. Mostly incoherent things will come out, I think. But instead I stick to silence.

The doctors gave her some medicine to keep her stable. That's all I know for now. I don't know how long I'll be here. I just want to sleep. This is so tiring.

   I haven't realized tears were staining my face, until a nurse came close.
"Are you okay, sweety?" she asks worried.
"Yes, um, I'm fine, thank you" I try to smile.
I look down as I open my phone. No, I can't stand the silence. I start typing.
"Can you pick me up?". Send to Kate.
I partly regret it, until I feel a vibration.
"Where you at?"
"Hospital."

   I observe the passing cars. Black, black, grey, black, white, green. My mind is blank, I feel nothing.
I'm waiting for Kate to come and I don't know what to tell her, how to handle it. Should I tell her the truth? I don't want to, it's so embarrassing, so sad.

   The entrance of the hospital is busy, with people coming in or out. I hope for everyone the reason isn't serious enough. Just a regural check up, I pray.

   The sound of a horn gets me out of my thoughts. It puzzles me at first, but then a familiar face gets close.
"Anna! Anna!" she shouts for me to notice her. I look at her, unable to move. My legs have betrayed me. I want to speak, but nothing comes out of my mouth.

"Hey, what happend? Are you okay?" she asks. She seems worried. And I wonder why. Do I look that much of a mess?
"Please, let's get out of here." I manage to mutter.

   She takes my hand, opens the car door and helps me sit on the passenger seat.
   I'm sure she thinks something happened to me. And in a way, she's right. Something happened, but it's not physical. And these things are the hardest to describe.

   The car ride isn't long, but it sure is quite. She understands I'm in no position to talk right now. She gives me my space and I appreciate it so much.

   As we pull up in front of our building, she parks and supports me till we are in her place. She makes me sit on the sofa and goes to the kitchen. Minutes later, she comes back with a mug in her hand.

"It's chamomile, it'll make you relax" she says quietly. I don't reach out for it and she places it in my hand. I look at it blankly.
"Anna, when you're ready, please tell me what's going on. I'm worried sick." she says and strokes my arm.

   I catch her eyes, while I search for something. Not in her, but in me. I'm searching for the strength to acknowledge and admit to someone else what I've been through. The strength to be vulnerable.
But fuck it, right? What's left to lose, anyway?

   After a long time of holding on, I finally let myself free. I let the tears, the words, the events come on the surface.

   She sits on the coffe table, right there in front of me, not missing a word.
Tonight is the night I share myself with someone. And dropping the weight off of my shoulders for a minute.