(We're so close to 50 chapters!!)
Jered.
An image of him kissing my mother sweetly goodbye this morning pops up in my head as I watch him lean across the table and hold hands with a woman I've never seen before.
Well, I'm not often a sneaky bitch, but when I am, I'm a damn good one.
I slip my phone from my pocket and snap a few photos of them together, I even get one of them kissing. It's evidence, what can I say?
My hands form into fists and I barge into the restaurant, storming over to the booth.
"Jered," I say bitterly. "How're you- Oh! Who's this?"
Jered snaps his head up to look at me. He looks worried and, quickly, he pulls away from the woman and stands up. "Bunny, I'll be right back," he tells the woman.
"Bunny," I say, "how adorable." The woman blushes, staring at me while fiddling with her thumbs.
"It's his nickname for me," she explains, just like my mother did only a little earlier today. "He says I look just like a bunny."
I tilt my head, frowning. "You know, you do like quite a bit like a bunny. Yeah, a fucking dead one!"
Just as I'm about to jump at the lady, Jered pulls me away into a corner. "What the hell, Ella! Did you follow me here?"
"Nope," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm here to pick up dinner for me and my mother."
"Look, I'll break it off with Liz," he tells me. "Just don't tell your mother, please!"
Jered's eyebrows are bunched together as he stares at me thoughtfully. "Too bad," I scoff, smirking. As much as I hate this man for cheating on my mother, making him feel like shit and scared makes up for it. Payback's a bitch.
He laughs nervously. "She won't even believe you."
"Really, well look here." I pull up the pictures of Jered showing affection to Liz, and he gulps, reaching for the phone. Luckily, I yank it back just in time and slide it into my pocket.
"You're a stupid, little teenager," he insults. "I didn't like you in the first place, I just went along with it because your mother is all I cared about."
"Bullshit! If she was all you cared about you wouldn't have fucking cheating on her!" I scream. Immediately, my cheeks flush and I can feel people staring at me.
"I have to go," I say, beginning to back up. "I'm afraid I have a very important meeting with my mother," I hiss.
I swivel around and go up to the register, pay for my frozen pizza dinner, and head back home.
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"How is it?" Mom asks me, taking a small bite of the now-cooked pizza.
I've been quiet since I got home, planning how to go about this situation. I keep my phone near my side, the evidence prepared.
"Good," I murmur. I'm on my second slice. When I'm nervous I have a bad habit of eating whatever food is around me, and mother knows this.
"Sweetie, are you okay? You've been acting," she pauses, eyeing me as I shove the last of the slice into my mouth, "strange."
"I'm great, so good," I say through my pizza, smiling awkwardly.
Mother slaps down her napkin and cocks and eyebrow. "Spill it, young lady."
I hate being interrogated, so I do what I usually do, I cry.
I swallow the rest of my pizza and use my napkin to wipe the tears off my cheeks. My vision is blurry and I feel horrible. "I'm sorry, mama!"
I grab my phone and load the images. I hand her the phone and a weight is lifted off my chest. She gasps and clasps a hand to her chest. "Ella! What, what is this?"
"I was going to get pizza," I sniff. I've stopped crying now and I can see more clearly. "And I saw him with her, so I talked to him and it was so bad, I'm so sorry, mom."
She bites her lip, staring down at the device. Finally, she huffs and hands it back to me. "Aren't you upset?" I ask quietly.
"Of course I am. But I had my suspicions. I figured that, well, something was going on. I just didn't know what it was. Now I do."
"Oh."
"It sucks, but I'm going to call him and dump his ass."
"That's good," I say, smiling. "How about you go do that, I'll clean up," I offer.
"Sounds good," she replies, returning me a weak grin. She walks out of the kitchen and I sigh. While scrubbing down the plates and tossing the leftovers in the fridge, I can hear her arguing on the phone.
"I'm done!" I hear her yell. I gulp, nearing closer to the door. It's wrong to eavesdrop, I know, but whatever. "Don't you dare come near me, I swear if you do I'll call the cops. Goodbye, Jered."
It's wrong to feel good about their breakup, but I never liked Jered that much. Honestly, I tried. But despite my best effort, I suppose my heart knows who is a true asshole.
I step into the living room where my mother is seating on the couch, holding her head in her hands. "Everything okay?" I ask.
She looks up. Shakes her head. "No, he keeps talking about how he'll find me, make me love him."
"He's just trying to annoy and scare you," I assure her, sitting down beside her. I lean my head on her shoulder. "Don't worry," I say, and after a moment of silence I add, "I'm sorry your relationship ended up like this."
She sits up straighter, my head is pushed off her shoulder. "Shush, sweetie, it's okay," she tells me, brushing a tear off her cheek. "I'm gonna run to the drugstore, I'll be right back."
After she's left, I'm left all alone in this big house, bored as hell. I plop down on the couch and turn on How I Met Your Mother. Within minutes, my sad mood is lifted and I'm laughing at the funny scenes. My attention is diverted as my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Hey! it's eda, got ur number from cal. r u and ash comin to the party nxt weekend?
I reply, yeah, i think so. what should i wear?
anything u want i guess. dress or jeans it doesn't matter. address is -insert random address here-
I take a deep breath, annoyed. I really want to get back to my show, but I type in a quick response and then put the phone down. Cool, see you then.
Fifteen minutes of laughing until my stomach hurts, my mother finally arrives back home. In her hand is clutched a bag, holding a tall, wide bottle. I walk to the kitchen to greet her.
Sitting down on one of the wooden stools, I watch her remove the bottle from the bag. Vodka. I raise an eyebrow and she purses her lips. "I'm an adult, and I'm not going to drink a lot. Just enough to get my mind off things. If it makes it any better, I'm a funny drunk." Then she twists the lid off and tips the bottle back.
I push myself up and walk to my bedroom. I don't want to stick around to watch my drunken mother. I've never seen my mom drink before, and I never thought I would. Last time one of my parents got drunk, they killed someone.
I shake my head disapprovingly and lay down on my bed. It's still early, only about five-thirty, so I really shouldn't sleep. But then again, it's not too early to not take a nap.
Smiling contentedly, I snuggle into my pillow and pull my blanket tight again my body.
-
I hear a crash downstairs and I sit up. Rubbing my eyes and yawning tiredly, I crawl out of bed and pad downstairs. My mother is in the kitchen, now holding a beer, staring down at a broken vase. Shards of glass litter the floor and she looks up at me as I walk closer.
"Ella! I didn't do it," she giggles. "Just kidding, totally-y-y-y-y did." She glances down briefly at the mess and laughs again. Taking a swig of her drink, she sits down on one of the stools, nearly toppling down on the floor.
Sighing, I grab the broom and dustpan from the closet and clean up the glass. "Be careful," I warn her, dumping the shards in the trash. "No more breaking shit."
She gasps, pointing at me. "You said a bad word! You are grounded, young lady."
I roll my eyes, sitting down across from her. "Eh, you probably won't remember this conversation in the morning." She shrugs.
More calmly, she traces the lip of the bottle in her hand and asks, "why do I always choose the wrong man? The ex-husband is in prison, and Jered is acting like a creepy stalker."
"You'll find the right one. It'll happen, just give it time."
She grins, laughing at me. "You're so wise, man, god." She hisses, slamming the empty beer bottle on the counter. She stands up and stumbles to the fridge, retrieving another beer.
"I don't think that's a good idea, mum," I say. I get up and take it from her. "Let's go to bed." I place the drink back into the fridge, take her hand, and lead her up to her room.
She falls back on the bed and rolls over on her stomach, groaning loudly. "I'm not tired," she whines. Taking care of mom when she's drunk reminds me of the summer before eighth grade when I babysat my neighbor's three-year-old.
"Too bad." I step out and turn off the light, returning to my own room. As I climb back in bed, I hope I can get some sleep this time.
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