"ADDISON? ADDISON!!! WAKE UP RIGHT NOW!!!!!"
Hearing my mom's voice, I grumbled, turning over in bed to grab my phone. It was 6:33 in the morning. But this wasn't unusual.
I pulled on a sweatshirt and tied my hair up. As usual, I walk downstairs, finding her cranky hungover self lying on the couch, empty beer cans surrounding her.
"Yes, mom?"
"How come the dishes aren't washed yet? And the floor's are filthy. Seriously, do I really have to wake up to a house like this? On top of that my head hurts. I thought you were more responsible than this. Giving me all this pressure when I have this headache. I can't believe you..."
I sighed, hearing her continue to scold me on and on when she wasn't being the responsible parent. Like it's my fault her dirty dishes aren't washed.
It's becoming a weekend routine. My mom will haul her drunken ass home late at night, after I'm asleep. Then I'll be woken up to her screaming my name early in the morning and listen to another repetitive lecture on my incapability to do anything in this house. And as far as I'm concerned, I've been doing a lot more around this house than she ever has in her lifetime.
And so, per usual, I roll my eyes and get started on the chores before she finishes her speech on my nonexistent irresponsibility. If I complain and start to reason with her, she'll never shut up. She could've at least waited until I wanted to wake up. It's way too early in the morning for this, especially when it's Saturday.
As I take the trash out, I heard footsteps coming up behind me.
"I need you to go to the pharmacy after this. There's no more ibuprofen in the house. And stop by the grocery store while you're out. The refrigerator is getting empty."
I was starting to get irritated. "Why can't you go?"
"Addison McClain, are you really going to ask me this right now?" She raised an eyebrow at me.
I shrugged, rolling my eyes.
"Don't roll your eyes at me. Do you not have any manners? And for your information, my boss needs me at work today. I don't have time laying around the house like you do. Who else is going to pay for the food you eat, or for your insurance? Who's going to pay for this goddamn house, for christ's sake! Do you even know how much all this costs???"
Lies. She introduced me to her boss a while back. Who was the same guy I saw her making out with multiple times in our front porch. I don't think he really needs her to pitch sales for his multi-million dollar company. All he wants is to get in her pants. And she hasn't paid for the rent for the past months, despite having a rich boyfriend that she thinks I don't know about. I see the mail we get. Those numbers aren't pretty. Of course I didn't dare say a word about any of it to my mother. She'd explode.
I stayed silent under her glare, daggers from her eyes trying to slice through me.
"No, of course you don't," my mom says, shaking her head. "I work six days a week, just to come home to a dirty, unkempt house. And you're still so ungrateful for everything I do. When's the last time I heard a 'thank you' from you?"
Not bothering to hear an answer from me, she looks at her watch. "Anyways, I'm late. Now do as I say, or you'll be living on the streets by tomorrow morning."
I watch as she slams the door shut. I know she'll be coming back home late again tonight, and drunk, no doubt. It's like a whole teen rom-com turned around, where I'm the responsible child with a party mom.
I let out a breath. Thank God she left. Or I'll probably never hear the end of it from her. I go grab my wallet and my bus pass. I didn't have a car, nor would my mom ever let me borrow hers, so I was stuck with public transportation.
