The Angel Goldfish Theory

angel goldfish: 02

CHAPTER TWO

▬

I would die for Buffy.

“Christ you are so adorable,” I said softly under my breath, watching my cat sleep on the couch. He wasn’t even doing anything. He was just sleeping in a funny position but for some reason, it’s like he’s the cutest feline creature on earth. I wanted to cry while holding his soft paw. “Look at your paw!”

“Piper,” Mom called from the kitchen. Her heels made some satisfying sounds against the floor as she walked around, fixing her earrings, drying her hair, acting like the busy mother that she was. “Mrs. Noor called this morning. She told me that you skipped two classes yesterday, Piper. Two. Damn. Classes. What were you doing?”

She stopped in front of me, her mouth ajar. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and stood up to my feet, staring back at her. I could tell her the truth, but I’d find myself kicked out of the house if I did.

“I was reading poetry on top of the principal’s car.”

I wasn’t, of course. Indie Vega used to do that though.

I heard a few harsh exhales before she said “fuck it!”, and kicked some of the shoes that were scattered on the floor. I flinched and Buffy startled awake, so then he jumped off the couch. I sighed and looked at Mom again, picking up the shoes she’d kicked. When she noticed me looking at her, she exhaustedly breathed out and when she spoke, her voice was low. “Piper, what is wrong with you?”

I wish I knew the answer. “I have to go.”

“Piper, listen to me.” There was a command in her voice that quite scared me. She used to use that voice whenever she tried to do the ‘serious talk’ and I knew that by then, I had to really fix my shit. I sat back on the couch and looked at her. “If you fail this year, I would never send you to school again. I would make you work and provide for this home, alright?”

“Mom—”

“Because Piper, I am so done with you!” she said, looking up the ceiling, then back at me, while pacing back and forth. “I don’t know what to do with you anymore and all you give me is trouble. Yesterday someone talked to me and told me you fucking grilled barbecues on her roof!”

I looked down. Whenever she talked like that, I would not say a thing unless she asked. I felt bad for Mom.

At least she’s talking to me, I thought.
“Sorry,” I said. I stood up. She didn’t say anything. “I’ve got to go to school.”

—

I didn’t go to school that day. I was just too upset. I found myself lying inside the abandoned car in an abandoned lot at the edge of the town, smoking a cigarette, staring up the ceiling of the car with twigs and leaves spiraling around the edges, listening to my playlist that I named mom made me upset again. Mom had made me upset so many times I made a playlist for it.

It’s got nothing to compare with how many times I’ve made her upset, though. While inside that car, I thought about her face—her angry face that morning. She looked absolutely done with me and I didn’t even see my Mom in her face anymore. In her face was just an overworked, dehydrated, burnt-out woman who’d like to have a one-week vacation in some beautiful place away from her daughter. I understood her sentiment, but inside that car, no matter how stupid I thought it was, I teared up.

“I just want her to check on me,” I said to myself, and hearing my own voice break hurt. It was too much to hear my upset inner voice, but speaking out loud hurt a lot more. Suddenly the pain felt more real.
I just inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. After getting my shit together, I took my phone out from my bag that was lying on the dirty car floor and decided to text my Mom.