Hunger Pains

Drink Your Sorrow Away

    I sat quietly on the deep, dark brown couch; my ass and my back sinking further and further as if I had decided to sit in quick sand. My eyes dragged from the pictures hanging on the walls to the cats and dogs that were strolling through the tiny, two bedroom apartment. To me, it felt crowded. Like my aunt was trying to fit an entire circus within a very small box, but came up short from perfection. It was difficult for me to picture her living anywhere else besides the two story, four bedroom house that she lived in since I was eight. But, plans managed to change, and she was now bouncing from apartment to apartment like my mom had done for years. 

    The last time I saw my aunt Darleen was two years ago at my high school graduation; she managed to gather enough courage to make the hour long drive down to Colorado Springs the month after we lost my uncle. At that time, she still had a smile penciled on her face, and her eyes were slightly puffy and red from crying out of pure joy. I wondered what would happen to this woman; two years ago, she lost her common-law husband and remained a ghost, now she  lost her baby sister. After my uncle had died, she refused to talk to anyone who wanted to love her and acknowledged those who didn't truly love her. Go figure. Yet, after making the decision to call her to inform her of the news about my mom, she was the last person I expected to constantly call me. My mom's big sister, I thought, deserved to know the truth of what was going on...her baby sister was battling a very rare cancer and had a seven percent chance of surviving. 

    I was in awe and in shock with how much this woman had changed, yet remained the same within the last two years. Her vibrant red hair remained the same, except for a couple of strands of gray hair that managed to breach through. She also ended up getting a tattoo of an elephant on her right shoulder, her smoking habit had increased (going from just cigarettes to both cigarettes and marijuana), she had lost some weight, and she had this strange man sleeping on my uncle's side of the bed. My aunt was not the same aunt that I had known my entire life. This woman who was sitting beside me was more carefree, she was more outspoken, and she continued to wear this mask of happiness when deep down, she must have been angry at the man she loved for dying too soon. Yet, the aunt that I had grown up knowing was more quiet depending on the occasion, she didn't wear a mask, she only smoked cigarettes and drank alcohol at night, and she was much more kindhearted. I felt like I was introducing myself to this stranger rather than catching up with my aunt. Except, I also felt like that wasn't necessary. This woman knew my entire story before I could even tell it; it seemed like she was a co-author to the novel that wasn't even finished. As I glanced at my aunt, there was a smile carved onto her face, an alcoholic beverage in her right hand, and her cell phone in her left. 

    For weeks my aunt had tried to convince me to spend the night at her place; begging me constantly and persistently. I had to explain to her that my classes took priority, and that my place right now was my college dorm room in Pueblo or my boyfriend's apartment in Colorado Springs. I had to constantly remind her that I was still in school and that I was also working semi part time; I didn't have the time off to spend just to stay an hour away from work and two hours away from school. After a few reminders, she understood and left me alone about the subject for a while, but would return to the prowl after just a day or two. It wasn't until I got tired of her begging that I finally caved in. I think, deep down, she knew that I needed a place to escape from all of the madness that formed in my life. She must have had a sixth sense because she always managed to find out that I was overwhelmed. I was taking 17.5 credit hours for school, working part-time, constantly driving between Colorado Springs, Pueblo, and Aurora, trying to take care of my mom, and making sure that Nailah was doing alright with the idea that we just lost our mom. I felt like I was a zombie carrying a valid driver's license; driving up and down the familiar road with my backpack in the back seat, an Arizona sweet tea in the cup holder, and a wrapper or two lingering somewhere on the floor of the car. At the moment, I practically lived in my 2015 Hyundai Sonata...and I think my aunt had a weird way of knowing this to be true.