“You’re not like her, man. Not even close.”
“Getting to live here is more than enough.”
“You don’t have to do things alone,” he tells me. “That’s your problem and always has been. You think you need to take on the world. Fuck that. What you need is to take care of yourself for once. Not think about Janie or how things are going to play out for her.”
That’s easy for him to say. “She’s my mom, man.”
“Is she, Colson?” I suck on the small candies until their dyed coating gives way and chocolate coats my tongue. “Tell me the last time she did something that even resembled being a mother to you. Sometimes you forget that your mom isn’t the only familyyou have.” He says it like I’ve let him down, as if I think him and his parents aren’t important.
I don’t want to get into it. Mostly because he’s right. Other than her being my flesh and blood, I don’t have much of an excuse for her behavior. She wasn’t nurturing in the same ways I’m sure Aunt Bess was, and still is, to him.
“That’s what I thought,” he says. “We both know she’s only ever cared about herself.”
I groan. “Do we have to do this right now?” I don’t need a lecture where Mom is concerned. I’ve spent years in the throes of her choices and have absorbed the repercussions for most of them. I’m already highly aware of the shit he’s saying.
“Just trying to help you see reason.”
“I’m not disputing that she’s fucked up more than not.”
“No, but you let her get in your head, and it’s convinced you that you don’t need a damn soul to help you when your feet are stuck in the mud. You’d be the first to help her out, but she isn’t anywhere in sight, is she? She gives zero fucks and is the exact reason you’re here.”
I look over. “Where is all this coming from?”
He shrugs. “You know I’ve never cared for that woman. It’s been a long time coming for someone to say it like it is.”
“Sounds more like you’re ready to trade in coding for a degree in psychology.”
His expression morphs, his features taking on the aftermath of getting bad news. “I care about you, and I’m sorry if it’s hard to hear me say those things, but it’s fucking true. You don’t deserve half the shit she’s put you through.”
I lean over and pinch his cheek, knowing damn well I need to lighten the mood before his words finagle themselves into my head and crack my heart wide open. “Look at you, the next Dr. Phil.”
He swats at me. “Get the fuck out of here.”
I laugh, pestering him more even though I’m now jobless, and roll up to a sitting position. “What? Don’t like your new title?”
Climbing off my bed, he flips me off. “Fuck off, asshole.”
A grin takes over my face. “That’s what we’re changing your gamer name to.”
He snatches his bag of candy off the bedspread, his cheek taking on a tinge of red from my pinching. He’s always had overly sensitive skin, and so it makes me chuckle. “The hell we are.”
“Afraid of what your gamer friends might think?”
Lifting his middle finger high, he extends his arm out and slowly back steps toward the door. “I’m trying to figure out how the hell I came in here out of goodwill, and you’ve turned shit on me.”
“Should be used to it by now, Seb.” As he trails out of my room, I yell out. “Lock your door and put a password on your PlayStation!”
He grunts a reply, but I know he’s not mad at all. He can say all he wants how I annoy him, but he wouldn’t trade this for the world.
I wouldn’t either. It’s a breath of fresh air living with someone who doesn’t give me anxiety twenty-four-seven but who has my back and only wants what’s best for me.
When I was younger,I ignored the signs of addiction. I didn’t want to believe my mom had an issue. In my mind, I thought she’d be okay; that her lies and manipulation would oneday fade and she’d realize the person she became wasn’t one who should’ve been raising a kid.
When I was twelve, she’d spent a lot of time in her room one day. I walked in on her crushing a pill. I didn’t realize that’s what it was at the time, but she shoved me out of the room and said she needed rest. She didn’t realize her door cracked back open or that I was watching through the slit. She was ravenous, her one and only priority being that little white pill as she crushed it into a powder and snorted it.
I never felt so unsettled as I did that day. It was the moment I realized how much help she needed. After that, she got more careless about hiding it. She’d grow restless, seek out what she wanted, and come back without caring if her teenage son was in the same room. Often, I’d bolt to my room. I hated seeing that she cared so little about herself.
About me.
