A World No Longer Heliocentric

11: Liam

"Elizabeth Foster," I lean against the front desk. "Can I see her now?"

"Visiting hours started an hour ago," the nurse says. "So yes, you can. Just fill out these forms and we'll set her up in the main lounge for you." I take the forms from her, finding a seat to fill them out. The room is too bright like the sun is constantly blinding me no matter what direction I turn my attention to. A maze of chairs spreads throughout the room. About ten line up against the back wall, with the bathroom door separating the ten into six and four. Both sides are filled with chairs and there's a middle row or intersection of chairs around a narrow pole. I didn't want questions from anyone, what I'm doing here, who I'm visiting, why a 17-year-old guy is in the waiting room of a psychiatric facility inside a doctor's office.

Making my way towards the chairs around the pole in the middle of the room, I take a seat, and immediately, the person opposite me against the back wall speaks up. He's an older guy, with white thinning hair and deep-set hazel eyes. He smiles, his whole face immediately erupting in a series of wrinkles. I smile back as a courtesy, but don't say anything.

"Who are you visiting?" the old man says. I look up from filling out the form, trying not to show my annoyance. "I'm Herald, it's nice to meet you."

"You too," I muttered, trying to sound dismissive like I don't want to talk.

"I'm visiting my wife," he says. "Alzheimer's. How about you? What brings you here?" This is exactly what I didn't want.

"My mom," I tell him "She's bipolar." Quickly scribbling through the rest of the form, I turn it into the woman at the counter. She leads me into the next room, which is three times the size of the waiting room. The scary thing about it is that I feel like I'm in a daycare, mats on the ground, very few chairs. There's a bunch of board games in the back underneath the TV. All heads turn towards me, followed with a few growls and grunts. No, daycare is not the word. I feel like I'm in a zoo, with all of these creatures.

On the far ends sits my mom. She's beaming at me, her face lit up. I try to match her enthusiasm as I approach her, but the anger rises to my head inside me and I can't contain myself from saying something.
"Hey," I say, my voice strained. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel much better," she says halfheartedly. Now that I'm close to her, I can see that her enthusiasm is fake, mixed with guilt. "I'm so sorry, LiLi." I flinch at the name. She only calls me that when she feels bad about something she did.

"This will not happen again," I snap. "And you have to take care of yourself. Take your meds. Get a job. I'm done being the parent." Her eyes widen at my suddenly aggressive tone. I roll my eyes. "I get it. It's hard, Mom. Trust me, I'm living with it too because I practically have to hold you up. But I'm not doing that anymore. You want to create problems for yourself? Fine, but I'm not making your problems my problems anymore. I have my own life."
"You're right," she sighs. "I will do better." The thing is, I didn't believe her. I wanted to, so badly, but looking in her eyes, I know she won't stand by what she says. She has said it before and before, every time we have to go to the hospital because her situation gets so bad. But she's doing this to herself, not taking her meds.

"You're not hearing me," I tell her. "I'm not taking care of you anymore, Mom. I'm done."

"You don't have to take care of me," she scowls. "I can handle myself."

"You tried to kill yourself!" I laugh hysterically. "Get your shit together. Take your meds. I'm not playing your games anymore, Mom, I mean it."

"I don't need my meds," she growls, tears rolling down her cheeks. Oh my god. "I don't need to feel dead inside. That's what I feel, Liam. I feel nothing and it terrifies me."

"You would rather feel pain and agony?" I say. "There are people who are drowning in pain and you want to drive yourself into it, knowing that it means hurting me?"

"You don't understand what you're saying," she shakes her head, clearly in denial. I bang my hands on the table and she jumps a little.

"You're crazy!" I scream. "Don't come crying to me again! I don't care about your shit. Stay out of my life!" I shove the chair away and start sprinting out of there, my stomach churning. Her sobbing makes my head hurt but it stops once I close the door. Gerald, the old man, is staring at me wide-eyed, with disgust.

He didn't understand. If I had lived with this my whole life, maybe I'd have handled it differently. But I didn't. I knew her before. I knew her selflessness and her compassion for others. I knew how she would wake up early every morning to make me breakfast and lunch, even when I was in the middle, she insisted on letting me sleep in. I knew who she was with Dad, considerate and sane. They loved each other, and she loved me.

After she got diagnosed, she started sleeping in until twelve. She would scream at Dad for hours, whether it was for missing dinner or getting the wrong thing from the store. About everything, she screamed. One second, she would be so angry that she starts to smash vases. The next, she would be so elated that she looked drunk, her eyes wide and bloodshot, a crooked smile on her face, talking fast but slurred. I'd stand in the kitchen, watching her expression change from a smile to a grimace, like she was possessed by a demon in her and she constantly had to battle it.

When she gave in to the demon, Dad and I went through hell, holding her down, pushing her into the car and to the hospital. After many visits, the doctors got sick of us coming so they started to give us sedatives even though they're not technically supposed to. She'd kick like a baby and scream her head off.

She's right. Bells was right. She was my mom but I'm the child. It's selfish but I have to be. I need to think of myself. Mom already decided. She already chose her disease over me, so I have to make a decision, one I should've made a long time ago. Suddenly, I understand why Dad left. Guilt rushes through me as I questioned his betrayal but from a different perspective than before. Why didn't he take me with him?