But, am I?
Tonight was a whirlwind. Mom is no better now than she was weeks ago. She’s still out on the streets buying shit she shouldn’t be putting into her body.
So, am I better?
Physically, maybe, but my soul remains in the same fucked-up limbo it’s been in since I was a kid and first realized that my mom cared more about getting high than her kid or her own well-being.
EIGHTEEN
VIOLET
Olive:Incoming warning.
Violet:It’s usually one or the other, Olive Garden.
Olive:Mom is talking holiday dinners.
Violet:Jesus, already?
Olive:That response tells me you haven’t talked to her yet…
Olive:Violet, you SPIT promised.
Violet:It’s disturbing when you write it out like that.
Olive:You know how else I know that you broke your promise? Because she brought you up in our conversation, ASKING if I’ve talked to you lately.
Olive:I will Nair your eyebrows off while you’re sleeping during fall break if you don’t reach out to her soon, Violet!
Daycare is a disaster.Between tantrums and having to call two parents to come pick up their children early due to fevers, I’m relieved the day is over. I’ll be back with the kids tomorrow afternoon after a full morning of classes, but I’m in desperate need of a break. It catches me off guard because I typically love hanging out with the little ones. They put smiles on my face and remind me what it’s like to believe in magical things like unicorns and the tooth fairy.
I’m chalking it all up to the fact that I didn’t sleep well last night. Olive texted me late, telling me Mom has already started reaching out to her about Thanksgiving. I love the holidays, love seeing my family, but I’m dreading it this year.
I wish I could push it off or slow down time. Unfortunately, it’s going to creep up and force me to swallow the feelings I have toward my dad to save face with Mom and Olive.
I never texted her back, and the guilt from that alone eats at me.
Making my way down the path toward the apartment complex, I walk at a brisk pace and pull my phone out to message her.
I don’t want her to think that I’m ignoring her or that something is up. Last thing I need is her asking questions. I’m quick to send back a reply to acknowledge what she said, then I tuck my phone back into my bag and head home. I decide at the last minute to hit up Sweet Smoothies. I’m not feeling something heavy for dinner, and they always hit the spot. I drop my belongings off upstairs and head back down to the first floor.The elevator dings and opens, and I turn for the entrance only to spot Colson waiting for the cab.
“Oh, hey.” He wears the same polo from the day we got lunch together. He must be coming from work, and then a crazy idea hits me. “Do you want to get a smoothie with me?”
He eyes me, the elevator behind us closing. “A smoothie?”
“Yeah,” I say, then quickly add, “But if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.”
He probably wants to relax after the day he’s had. I mean, that’s what I like to do after a day filled with classes. Hell, I want that tonight. I just want to slurp down a smoothie beforehand. Decent company would be nice, too.
He looks at me, then smiles. Barely. “Now?”
“I was heading out now, yeah.”
He looks back at the elevator. “Mind if I go change and take my bag up?”
Giddiness grows in my chest. “Not at all. I’ll wait outside.”
“See you in ten.”
