The One You Can't Forget (The One, #1)

twenty-eight

Hainsey

I spend most of the day doing the daily shit I actually enjoy: dishes, vacuuming, cleaning my bedroom, et cetera. I always laugh whenever I think about my views on chores when I was younger compared to now. They make me feel normal - like I'm not dealing with my mother that's addicted to drugs and struggling to pay for the house and necessities because of that.

While I hate being at home with my mom, I'm glad that Mrs. Brantford gave Ems and I the day off after dealing with the bachelor boys. To say it was exhausting is an understatement - my legs are still exhausted from the amount of mountain biking we did. I'm actually tempted to skip out on hockey tonight, but that thought is quickly diminished when I remember that Ems is coming to watch me play tonight. I can't stop myself from smiling as I fold the rest of my clothes on the kitchen table.

"Somebody's happy."

I jump and turn around, breathing a faint sigh of relief when I see my mom filling up her coffee mug. For the first time in a long time, she's put herself together: makeup done effortlessly, hair combed and tied up in a bun, and her clothes look freshly pressed. She actually looks so normal that I have to blink a few times to regain my perception on reality. The sleeves of the blouse she's wearing have been pushed up past her elbows, giving me a clear view of the pinpoint scars that pattern her pale skin.

I look away, feeling guilty for what's happened to my mom. Yeah, my dad was the main cause, but is what I'm doing any better? I'm enabling her because I'm too weak to push her toward getting help. What if she starts hating me for even suggesting the idea? I don't think I'd be able to bear having another parent hate me.

"Uh," I say, turning back to my clothes. The best thing for me to do is avoid; skate around the real problem and just talk to her. "Ems is coming to the arena tonight to watch me play hockey."

"Aw," Mom says, smiling after taking a sip of coffee. "How is Emyln doing?"

"Well," I joke, "she still has that scar on her nose."

Mom laughs, and I can't stop myself from laughing along with her and reminiscing in the good times. It was terrible that I broke her nose, but thank God Ems has a sense of humour and is forgiving.

"Yeah," I continue. "Ems is doing good. She's staying here for the summer and then heading to university in September."

"Really? What's she doing?"

"Interior design."

Mom frowns. "Huh - I never expected her to do something like that. I always saw her as the type that would make it to the women's hockey team and play for Canada in the Olympics."

"So did I," I admit. And it's true - I really did think that when we were kids; that she would make Team Canada before I ever made the NHL.

With that, I start thinking about all the conversations we had when we were kids. All those late nights when I would sneak through her bedroom window and lay beside her in bed, talking about our dreams of going to university and playing on the teams. All the time we spent together.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek and look away.

Suddenly, I don't want to talk about this anymore. Ems is getting everything we talked about (minus the hockey part), while I have to stay here.

I glance back at Mom. I want to yell at her and ask why. Why did she have to resort back to this and make me grow up so fast? She didn't even think about what effect this would have on me and my lifestyle. It's the worst type of betrayal I've ever experienced. How can a family member do that? My own mother.

When my clothes are all folded in the laundry basket, I excuse myself from the kitchen, muttering something to my mom about stocking her supply tonight after hockey. I take the stairs two at a time, and as soon as I get in my room, I toss the laundry basket on my unmade bed and lean against the closed door.

Closing my eyes, I sigh.

It's not a sigh of defeat; it's a sigh of familiarity. This is my mundane life: working so I can make money, taking care of my mom, buying drugs, and playing hockey. There are some blips and events along the way, but nothing too big (other than Ems coming back).

I wonder how long this is going to last. How long it will take Mom to overdose. Or how long it will take Ems to realize I'm white trash; that she needs a man that's attended university and actually made something of his life.

I shake my head, blinking back the tears. No matter what happens, no matter what life throws at me, I'm a tough person and I have no choice but to keep going.

No matter what, I can make it through this.