Who Knew She’d Be Right
By Taylor Marcelino
My shoes had rotted from the inside out. The shoes I had for three years. They weren’t anything special, black leather flats with cheap, rhinestone studded buckles. So I needed new ones that would last and honestly, I just wanted to get out of the house.
I had been in a blank stupor for the past two days, either crying in my room or staring into nothing in the living room with my mother. The day before, I had been informed that my father had relapsed and was now somewhere in L.A., most likely in an alleyway, sticking a needle into his arm. My mother had known since Thanksgiving, the week before.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He promised me that he would tell you.” My mother said, more defensively than apologetic.
“And you believed him.” I said not as a question, but as a fact.
She had believed him. She thought that he would come to me on his knees begging for forgiveness and not skip town, just like he always did.
My mother was lying on the floor of the living room sleeping. She never used her bed. Even when I was little she would sleep on the floor with at least three comforters and a huge floor fan.
“Mom,” I said a little louder than a whisper.
No answer. I knelt down next to her and nudged her with both of my hands.
“Mom, I need new shoes…my old ones are gross,” I said louder.
“Ok, gimme a sec.” she mumbled, barely audible.
I waited the half hour it took for her to get ready, and then we got into her beat up Suzuki and left for the Payless across town.
We didn’t speak the whole way there. I was lost in the quiet, which was rare for us. My mother was always talking, either about Jesus or one of her sci-fi shows, so it was strange for the car to be so silent. All I could think about was the conversation I had with my aunt on the phone the day before.
“Hello?”
“Hey sweetie, I just wanted to talk to you for a sec.” she said with a hint of concern in her voice.
“Ok…” I said nervously.
“I’m just worried and I was wondering if…well, do you know if your mom is drinking again?” she asked, obviously worried about my reaction.
“No, I don’t think so…Why?”
“Well, she called me earlier and sounded a bit funny.”
I don’t remember ending the conversation or hanging up the phone. In the car I was hoping to God that what my aunt thought wasn’t true. Soon, we were at the shoe store. We got out of the car and went in. My mom sat down and told me that I could get two pairs. After I had picked out two pairs of flats that hopefully wouldn’t rot in the rain, my mom went to pay for them. She had gotten up and stumbled to the cash register.
In the car, I asked,
“Mom, are you drunk?”
“No.” she managed to hiccup out.
“Mom, let me smell your breath.” I said nervously.
She hesitated, then she blew a burst of her rancid breath in my face. It smelled of vodka and orange juice; a screwdriver, her poison of choice.
“Mom! Pull the car over!!”
“I’m fine.” She said. I’m not even sure if she believed herself.
While I was talking to my mother, she had been driving and was now swerving. In a state of panic, I got my cell phone out and was dialing my aunt’s number. My mother saw me and tried to grab the phone out of my hand. All of this seemed to be happening in slow motion. Before I knew it, we were home. My aunt had said that she was sending my uncle to pick me up and to start packing. Before I could get inside the house, my mother had slammed the door and wouldn’t let me in. After failing to open the door, she threw it open in a rage I’ve never known from her, and started screaming.
“This is all your fault, you little bitch! Now we’ll never see each other again!”
I walked past her, trying my best to keep calm, walked into my room, and gently closed the door. It was about 10 minutes after she had yelled at me; I was putting the shoes I got earlier that day into my backpack, when my mother stormed into my room sobbing.
“We’ll never see each other again.” She said, barely above a whisper.
“I love you.” I said, and in two strides I had gathered the bundled mass of emotion that was my mother, into my arms. We stood there holding each other, wondering what was next for us. After a few more minutes, I suggested that we go into the living room to wait for my uncle.
He came about 20 minutes later and told me to go wait in the car. As I got up to hug my mom goodbye, I saw it. It must have been there for a day or two, but I didn’t see the bottle until that moment. The little clear bottle with the red cap is a symbol for me now. The logo was a majestic buck; it was such a contradiction of the product. How could a proud animal resemble my mother, a lonely heap of self-pity, which was lying on our couch?
I quickly hugged my mom, mumbled an “I love you,” and left through the sliding glass door. I waited in my uncle’s car for what seemed like hours. Finally, he came out of the house.
“I put her to bed and she said that she loves you. Are you ok kiddo?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
We said very few words on the way to his house; we only decided that I would be staying with them for the rest of the year and that my mother would come over tomorrow to discuss this arrangement with us.
We’ll never see each other again…We’ll never see each other again…were the words flashing in and out of my dreams that night.
She didn’t come over the next day. She didn’t call or answer my calls.
I called my brother in law to tell him what happened and where I was. He already knew which was weird. I thought maybe my mom had called him. He started talking about my mom and the car and the liquor store.
“Wait…what?” I asked bewildered.
“You don’t know?” he asked.
“Know what?” Now I was getting worried.
“I’m so sorry Taylor, but your mom died last night.”
I was asleep right? I had to be dreaming. Was this real? My life was falling apart, one piece at a time. It took me a while to control my sobs enough to ask him,
“How did it happen?” I asked, knowing I wouldn’t like the answer.
“They think that she was walking to the liquor store, and on the way she was struck by a car.” He said.
I held on to what I had left of my sanity. She was supposed to come over that day, I was going to see her in a better state, I was going to see her alive. One thought came to my mind.
We’ll never see each other again.
Who knew she’d be right.
for katie's book, if she wants to use it!
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