Redemption

12 - Breakfast Dinner

Chapter 12 - Breakfast Dinner

I've had some pretty embarrassing moments throughout my life. Somehow my brain never tucked them away, and decides to bring it up at the most random times. I sometimes wonder if that just happens to me because my brain loves to torture me.

However, going up to Harry's door last night was ten times more embarrassing than the time I passed gas in art class and blamed it on the kid sitting next to me. The odds were in my favor because he had no idea what was going on.

I barely remember what took place after Jasmine called my name. I'm fairly sure we gossiped while I ranted about Harry for too long. I'm going to have to ask Jasmine about her and Ben again because I don't remember her telling me any details about what happened between them last night.

I groan out loud, rolling over to hide my face in the pillows. Thankfully, I have a later shift today but I catch myself wishing for the distraction of work. I know Candace wouldn't mind if I showed up early. She might even give me a free cinnamon roll if I do.

I roll out of bed, trying to ignore the pounding inside of my head. I definitely drank too fast last night.

I glance at the clock beside my bed, seeing it's already noon. I wipe my face with my hands, hoping to get rid of the grogginess. Forcing myself to go get a glass of water, I see Jasmine is passed out on the couch with a blanket. I giggle at the sight of her feet sticking out.

After drinking a glass of water and forcing down a bowl of cereal, I make my way to the bathroom to get ready. I tell myself showering will make me feel better, and hopefully, less embarrassed.

My thoughts harass me in the shower, replaying the image of the beautiful girl in Harry's apartment. There is no doubt she was prettier than me. I bet Harry just thought of me as some girl he randomly met and wanted to get into bed, now he couldn't care less because he knows I'm not like that.

Jasmine is still sleeping even after I dress into my uniform for work: blue jeans and a light pink blouse. At my job we don't have uniforms besides our aprons so I can dress however I like.

By the time I find my phone on the floor next to my bed, I see I have over twenty texts from Mom and two from Isaac. I want to fool myself into thinking if I just leave them be the texts will go away. But they won't. And they never will. If anything, my mother will get more agitated and send hundreds of more.

I don't bother to read the texts, instead I hop on Venmo, sending her a hundred dollars. I know that's all she wants. My mother used to be different, the best mom, actually, but Dad dying left a hole in her heart that she will always be trying to fill. Her warm hazel eyes fill my childhood with love, but now they are cold and empty when she looks at me. I know she avoids it because I look like Dad more than Isaac does. I could never find it in my heart to ignore Isaac, though. In some ways, he is like my own son. An unbreakable bond formed between us when I was acting as his caregiver after Dad passed.

Isaac: can you try to keep mom away from my school?

Isaac: it's not a good look for me when she shows up drunk off her mind

I smack my hand against my forehead, maybe a little too hard. As if this day couldn't get any worse. Usually, I am able to handle my mother's behavior smoothly, but when I'm not present, it's harder to make her calm down and leave. Isaac wasn't that close to my mom, even though he's only two years younger, he never had to deal with her drunken state. It was my responsibility. It always would be. And that's why Isaac's texting me now.

It's hard to imagine my mom disrupting Isaac's space, especially the place where he is supposed to escape her. I know it was hard for him to let his friends witness it, if they did.