Wrong Number

Wrong Number [34]

16 Years Old

"Mom?" Kylee called out as she entered the residence, her voice hesitant. She set her keys on the table next to the door and glanced around. As usual, everything was perfect. Nothing was out of place, and if it were it would be fixed almost immediately.

When the teenager received no answer from anywhere in the silent household, Kylee allowed her chest to rattle with a sigh of relief she'd been holding back. The very last thing she wanted right now was her mother's berating. She set her dance bag down by the staircase, then slipped her backpack off of her aching shoulders. It was seven at night — she immediately went to dance from school, then after that she had her piano lessons. She was worked to the bone, and she was so tired. She was excited to be done with school for the summer, because then, at least, she only need worry over two things.

Kylee padded to the kitchen, water bottle in hand, scanning the area timidly. This was where her mother would be if not in her study. She usually poured her drinks here, so a lot of time was spent in this area. Finding it empty, she saved her shoulders and shuffled to the refrigerator. She pulled it open and rustled around for sandwich meat. Her fingers brushed against the plastic bagging, so she pulled it out. Then she went for the mayo. Once she got those two things, she used her hip to close the door. Only to turn around and come face to face with her mother.

Kylee jumped, nearly dropping the mayo as she sighed. "You scared me, Mother."

Her mother didn't smile, instead she eyed the objects in her daughter's hands with distaste. "You're eating this late?"

"Um, yes?" the teenager replied, glancing down at them as she moved toward the sink where the bread container was. "I haven't eaten since lunch today. I had practice for dance and then my piano lessons. Remember?"

Her mother didn't follow, but Kylee heard an uttered, "oh," before she cleared her throat. "Of course, that's right," she said a bit louder. Upon closer inspection, Kylee noticed the signs.

The woman had pulled away from her daughter and had brushed past her toward the counter where a bottle always sat in clear view. It would be full when Kylee would go to school and empty by the time she returned home. It looked like her mother was on her way to polish it.  She knew this, yet what she would say escaped her lips anyway.

Her mother's eyes were distant, and when the teenager's eyes travelled down, she noted the usual empty wine glass. "How much have you had tonight?" she found herself asking before she could stop the words.

Kylee didn't think she would get a response, so she turned back to making herself a quick dinner when she felt the empty bottle slam next to her. It startled her. "It doesn't matter how much I had. I'm an adult."

The girl jumped, panic and anxiety rising in her chest as she tried to shuffle away from the quickly angered woman. "I know. I'm sorry, I was just wondering."

"Stop wondering," her mother breathed, glaring at Kylee as she gripped her full glass. "Curiosity gets you nothing but disappointment. I drink because I can. Clean up your goddamn mess when you're done."

She shoved Kylee's shoulder as she walked past her out of the kitchen.