My jaw drops, and her eyes widen as she realizes what she said, but instead of apologizing, her mouth shuts tight.
“Death is never a choice, Lorraine, and it sure as fuck doesn’t make it any easier to let go.”
Tears well in her eyes, most likely from guilt. She has the tendency to lash out in times like these, but I know it’s part of her depressive cycle. Doesn’t make it any less shitty, though. When she’s like this, it’s as if she can’t see the light or how to claw her way out. Last week, she was fine. It’s always when her mother calls.
“What did your mother say to you this time?” I ask, trying my hardest to keep my short temper in check. I fight fiercely for those I love. And I want to protect Lorraine; I have since the moment we met. So she knows her worth and value aren't tied to her toxic upbringing.
She moved here to start a new life, but the old one continues to drag her down. Specifically, by the claws of her mother.
“It’s nothing,” she mumbles, and I look over my shoulder, once again pinning her with a glare.
“Lorraine.”
Her gaze cuts to me, a quiet defeat in her eyes, and then she lets out a lungful of smoke with a heavy sigh.
“She said she’s being evicted again and asked if I had a couch to stay on, since the last guy she was with doesn’t want her anymore. I told her no, so then she told me I’m basically sentencing her to the streets, and she’ll most likely die.
"When I told her it wasn’t fair that she only called when she needed something, she said that I was a selfish child whom she gave everything to, and that I was the reason she couldn’t ever make anything of herself. What really wasn’t fair, was that I thought it was okay to leave her behind and try to make something of myself here in New York without ever considering where it would leave her. That if I don’t send the money by this week, she’ll find out where I work and scream bloody murder, so I’m humbled by the same rock-bottom feeling she’s going through.” Her breath hitches, and she pushes through as I silently listen, my anger at her manipulative mother growing.
“She said she’d kill herself if she had to step into another shelter, depending on strangers when she had an ungrateful daughter who should be helping her. She then said that I’d changed since moving here, and it was definitely the influence of my roommate. If memory serves correctly, she labeled you as the devil that turned me against her, and I should get money from you since you and your family have so much.” I study her carefully as she sheepishly looks between me and Borris. “I’m sorry. You know I would never ask you?—”
“I couldn’t care less if you asked me for money or help, Lorraine. What I care about is that your mother is a manipulative psychopath that even as an adult is still trying to pin you with all of this. This isn’t the first time she’s threatened to kill herself, and I know it’s not easy to turn away from that. But she will continue to do and say all of this to keep you in her clutches.”
“But what if she does it? What if I’m the reason she kills herself? I know she’s a terrible person, but she’s still my mother… I don’t live in a fairy tale world like you, where everything works out for me, Romi. It’s obstacle after obstacle, and I’m so fucking tired of it!”
I’m stunned and hurt how quickly she compares herself to me, as if I’m some kind of miracle child. “And you think I’m not tired? You think I don’t work my ass off to get where I’m at? You think I’m smelling roses every day?”
“You’re Romi Lutton. Everyone is drawn to you, and everything turns out perfectly for you.” She says it as if I’m delusional. “I don’t even know why you’re living in a shabby apartment like this with me. Aren’t you embarrassed?”
Not once has she ever voiced this. Not once have we had issues with our living circumstances, but every time she gets off the phone with her mother, she's fractured a little more.
“I’ve never been embarrassed about our friendship or where we live. All of this is crazy, and it's because your mom is filling your head with shit!”
“Maybe you’re the one filling my head with shit. Telling me I can be something or do something with my writing! Dreams don’t happen to people like me, so stop treating me like some charity case you have to uplift!” When she sees my hurt expression, she looks away, throwing her hands up in the air. “You know what? Maybe I should just move back. Maybe this isn’t working out after all.”
“So, what, you’re going to give up just like that because your mother said so?” All of this is happening so quickly. I’m so mad at her and her mother. I want to rationalize that this isn’t the Lorraine I know, that she’s purposely pushing me away, but it doesn’t make me any less angry.
“You always sit on your fucking high horse, complaining about your mother having ‘expectations’ of you to act and be a certain way, but at least she fucking cares. You’re so caught up on your own pretty, little perch that you don’t even see it anymore.”
My jaw drops, and I immediately snap it shut, all my understanding bleeding out as I slip into that cold place that is always quick to protect me. “It’s ironic that you say you hate your mother, but you’re sounding more and more like her every day.”
“Isn’t that rich coming from the spoon-fed golden child?”
I smile insincerely now, my words all venom. “I promised you I’d always be here to listen. That I’d always help you, no questions asked. But you’re right, maybe you’re not worth it. If all you see me for is a moneybag, then you’re no different than your mother. Fuck your dreams, and fuck you. You can rot for all I care.”
Tears streak down her cheeks as a bubble of laughter bursts from her. She looks like a crazed woman. “Don’t worry, your promises have always meant shit to me anyway. I can’t trust the word of someone who holds everyone at arm’s length and jumps from person to person because she’s too scared to settle in one spot for too long. I suppose I’ve been no different. Enjoy your lonely fucking life.”
My heart pounds as she turns toward the door. I immediately feel a tug to reach out for her and call her back, but instead, I stare, the raging thoughts and hurt ripping at my insides. We’d fought a few times before, and always made up. But nothing like this.
We both went straight for the jugular. To the place we know it hurts most. But, ironically, she's been part of the reason why I've stayed here for the last two years, as I found myself at peace in New York, no longer running away from my mother's expectations, and simply being myself.
Sure, I haven't had long-term relationships, but that doesn't make me unreliable. I know all of this, yet my bottom lip wobbles as her words cut to an excruciating truth. Because I have always held myself apart from everyone, in case they were suddenly gone, just like my father.
That wasthe last time I ever saw Lorraine.
Alive.
Words were said I doubt either of us really meant during the heat of the argument. Before that, we'd shared words of encouragement focused on our careers and dreams, as if we had an entire lifetime to achieve them. But Lorraine’s dreams wereburied with her, and all those thoughts and aspirations only remain on the pages my hand dances along right now.
