the title of the blog should be changed if this is all that's written.
my mom just went out for "milk". i don't know if she'll make it back, because she's shitfaced driving on new year's eve, the night cops are probably at their most diligent at dui stops.
she comes downstairs to the kitchen, opens the fridge and proclaims to me: "we need milk".
"mom, it's new year's eve. nothing's gonna be open."
"i called tedeschi's. they're open until 11."
"i don't believe you. if i hit redial will that come up?"
"yes. i'm just driving down the street."
she leaves, and i run upstairs. she did call tedeschi's. then i carefully tear her room apart looking for some bottle, some vile of something. and i taste what's left in her glass. every time i've ever done this, it's been water. tonight it was white wine.
then, i find her cache. she must bring it to work with her everyday, because in all of these other searches of mine, i've come up empty. but i just took a picture of a dozen or so sutten home white chardonnay single serving bottles.
she's been gone for half an hour now. on any other night, i would be glad to have her picked up by the police. but i have to get to school tomorrow. it's not convenient for me. and frankly, that's all i care about right now. getting to school, away from her, and toward something better.
and yes, i'm manipulating her. i'm being nice to her, calling her "mommy" for the sole purpose of getting her to use her car to move me into school. and after she's gone, i won't talk to her until need to come home, if i do in fact come home. it may seem cruel to others, but i can't see it. you have to have some feeling of humanity toward someone to see an act done upon them as "cruel", and i see no such trait in my mother. it use to be present, but her various cancers have blackened and killed it.
now i sit here waiting for her to come home, unsure whether she'll arrive still in the drivers seat or in the cold plastic backseat of one of cohasset's finest.
i'll let you know. but in the meantime, i'm going to the kitchen to grab a big glass of milk from the unopened jug in the fridge.
happy new year.
she comes downstairs to the kitchen, opens the fridge and proclaims to me: "we need milk".
"mom, it's new year's eve. nothing's gonna be open."
"i called tedeschi's. they're open until 11."
"i don't believe you. if i hit redial will that come up?"
"yes. i'm just driving down the street."
she leaves, and i run upstairs. she did call tedeschi's. then i carefully tear her room apart looking for some bottle, some vile of something. and i taste what's left in her glass. every time i've ever done this, it's been water. tonight it was white wine.
then, i find her cache. she must bring it to work with her everyday, because in all of these other searches of mine, i've come up empty. but i just took a picture of a dozen or so sutten home white chardonnay single serving bottles.
she's been gone for half an hour now. on any other night, i would be glad to have her picked up by the police. but i have to get to school tomorrow. it's not convenient for me. and frankly, that's all i care about right now. getting to school, away from her, and toward something better.
and yes, i'm manipulating her. i'm being nice to her, calling her "mommy" for the sole purpose of getting her to use her car to move me into school. and after she's gone, i won't talk to her until need to come home, if i do in fact come home. it may seem cruel to others, but i can't see it. you have to have some feeling of humanity toward someone to see an act done upon them as "cruel", and i see no such trait in my mother. it use to be present, but her various cancers have blackened and killed it.
now i sit here waiting for her to come home, unsure whether she'll arrive still in the drivers seat or in the cold plastic backseat of one of cohasset's finest.
i'll let you know. but in the meantime, i'm going to the kitchen to grab a big glass of milk from the unopened jug in the fridge.
happy new year.