No Time Like Now (Lesbian)

Chapter Four

While I managed to get back inside the house later in the night, the next morning doesn't help me escape from my parents. Especially when Mom barges into my room at five sharp and violently shakes me awake.

"Wake up, Niamh!" Mom yells, although she'll most likely claim later she was 'talking loudly'. "I don't have the time to get you up seven times and have you miss class!"

And then she goes on shaking, and shaking, and shaking until I feel like I'm having a seizure. Making sure I'm not, I extend an arm in Mom's direction. I protest with a "Jesus Christ!" when she slaps it away.

"Language!" Mom says firmly.

"English," I mutter, rubbing my eyes. "I'm up. Good job. Now can you please leave me alone while I get ready?"

I look up to see Mom with her arms crossed. "You'll go back to sleep as soon as I turn my back," she accuses. "I'm not going through the same routine of waking you up every five minutes until you end up being late to school."

I groan. "I learned my lesson back in seventh grade," I remind her, once again. "You don't need to watch my every move when I get ready."

She doesn't make a move. God dammit. Let's try yet another tactic.

"I have a bottle of liquid ass on hand. I'm not afraid to use it." That's a lie; the liquid ass bottle's on top of the drawer right next to Mom. If she sees it and takes it, then I have nothing else to threaten her with.

Having once experienced a tragedy of her sense of smell, Mom's face changes expression to match her feeling of disgust. She's still staring directly at me, so I have a chance of using it if that's how this morning's going to end up.

Finally, she opens her mouth. "If you don't come downstairs in five minutes — two to get dressed and three to brush your teeth — then I'll keep using making sure you get up on time every morning until you graduate. From college."

Huh, she still thinks I plan to stay here?

Also, are you fucking kidding me? I can't believe the liquid ass spray's the only way to convince her.

"And if I do, you stop with the watching forever?" I asked, feeling hopeful for once in three years.

She purses her lips, like it's such a hard decision to accept. Can you believe this bitch? "We'll see how it goes."

Wow, not even a straight up "yes"? Joke's on her, though; the years of finding ways to shorten my get-up routine to end Mom's invasion of privacy sooner have trained me for this moment. Five minutes is nothing.

As she leaves the room, I hear a called out, "Time's going!" As soon as the door closes, I zip around the room. Clothes are rejected, and some are the chosen ones for the day. And don't forget my usual commentary to the clothes whenever I get dressed: 

Slide over my boobs, you stupid pansy-patterned sundress. Why are you called 'knee-high' when you can barely get to the bottom of my knees, you difficult but awesome pair of anatomically-correct skeleton feet socks? Shorts, you're supposed to cover my butt in case my dress slips up, not flirt your way into a ride to Wedgie Town.

I grab my phone and check for any new texts while I brush my teeth in record time. Ikra's asking for a car ride in the group conversation, to which Jeremiah volunteers, thank God. Ikra still owes me a bag of gummy worms for my time cleaning up the mess she accidentally made the last time I gave her a ride to school. 

Teeth now brushed, I put my toothbrush back in its place and stare at the mirror. For once I don't see anyone behind me; I'm really by myself. Hell, I get excited over finding new pimples on my face, or seeing how the usual puffy bangs isn't too noticeable today, all without any 'help' from Mother Dearest.