Michael and Me

no more arguments. no more.

(a/n: foul language and conversation on addiction below)

I rock in the chair, staring out Hayvenhurst's window. The trees are so beautiful as they sway in the wind, littering the grounds with light cherry blossoms. 

The record player belts Aretha Franklin's voice as I cry, warm tears streaming down my cheek, making my eyes red and puffy.

I study my body in a mirror opposite me. The bump is at its fullest. 

I take a deep sigh as I think how I would treat my children when I get older. I certainly don't want to be like my mom.

The sun dims and sinks, as my conscience slips away into a daydream.

1979 

"Mom!" I yell.

"I don't give a friggin' fuck!" she yells. She injects another dose of heroin into her arm.

Jennifer curls her lip. "You are one of the most disgusting human beings I've ever known--"

A slap stings her face. You could hear the hand-skin contact from several feet away.

"You do not talk to me like that. I raised you, I fed you, I gave you everything you've had! Your father did not do squat. He treated me like a criminal. He sent me away so he could--he could spoil your brains with the parties, with the rubbish, the drinking!"

"You take drugs," I whisper, tears coming into my eyes. 

"I do it because of my problems. You two have no problems, no issues. If you had stayed with me, you would be lawyers, politicians, businesswomen... but no, you stay stuck in this den of liars and drug dealers and prostitutes."

"If we had stayed with you more often over the years," I sniffle, "we would be fucked up seriously."

"You see," mom scoffs, sitting down.

I pray silently, please deliver my mom, Oh God. Please.....

Please..

present-day

I ring the doorbell. Marvin, Mom's chauffeur answers. 

"Oh, Nicole, your mum was just getting ready. Would you like to pop in?"

"Of course, that's why I'm here."

I push her snotty chauffeur out of the way and climb up the stairs. Marvin yells after me to come down and wait in the living room. Fuck you,  bitch.

"Mom?" I push open the bedroom door, just to find my mom and my dad in bed.

"Oh my god!" Mom shrieks, pulling the covers over her.

"What the hell..." I stare at my father. He's slouching, face full of total guilt. I notice white powder all over the dresser. I go ballistic.

"This is what helping mom recuperate looks like!" I scream. I throw pillows from the floor at the both of them. "There are fucking drugs on the dresser! You mean to tell me you've been screwing her this whole time, enabling her addictions, and you lie to my face and your children's faces and Michael's face, and lie that she is "recovering" enough to be a good grandmother? You son of a bitch." 

"Nicole, I can explain.."

"No you cannot, Dad, and nor will you ever. I have a child growing inside me-- a child! I'm going to bring a child into this world--into a dysfunctional family, where both her grandparents are crackheads! What sick game is this?"

"It's not a game, your father has really been helping me."

I stare at mom in total shock. "Helping... you call this helping." I toss a pack of cocaine to the other side of the room. "This is not helping. This is undermining. He's trying to undermine you. He wants you to not be successful. He does not want you to return to the movies, to do your work, to achieve the Oscars I know you can get." I shake my head. 

"Why do you think he's becoming your best friend all of a sudden? I believed deep in my soul that you were fully cured. But he's tearing you down again, just like all those years ago. He hates you for torturing his children, but he did not have the balls in the past to realize what you're really suffering from. I know you're hurting mom, but you can't let him get to you this way."

Mom has tears flowing down her cheeks, pain she's repressed since she came home. She looks at her ex-husband.

"Our daughter is right. We can't do this," Mom whispers.

I sit on the bed and ignore my dad's obvious discomfort. Mom grasps my hand. 

"I'll be a better mother, I'll try, I promise. And I want to learn how to be the best grandmother for your baby."

I smile. "You will. But first I want you to clean up this mess and make it to that audition tomorrow."

Mom nods her head. I turn to Dad.

"You should be so fucking ashamed of yourself." I get up and walk out.