"Hey, Dad. Mother." I greeted my dad with a kiss on the cheek, but my mother wouldn't even come near me.
"Mavis..."
"May." I interjected sternly.
"Mavis," I scoffed as she ignored me and continued speaking, "we need to talk." She finally looked at me for the first time since she got back.
"Something wrong, mother?" I said mockingly, tilting my head and bringing my eyebrows together.
"You...You had a party. While we were gone."
"And?"
"...And you were specifically told not to do that."
"I'm sorry," I scoffed again, "would you like me to list all of the things people aren't supposed to do that you have done? Let's see..." I lifted a finger each time I listed something. "Hmm, premarital sex, child neglect, fucking someone other than your husband- and right after marriage too, ugh-,,, running with a gang. Oof, that's the biggie..."
"Enough." My dad finally intervened after uncomfortably watching from the sidelines for what was apparently long enough.
"May. Bedroom. Now." He rested one hand on his hip and the other on the bridge of his nose as he instructed me to leave the room.
"You got it, Daddy-o!" I grinned with pretentious enthusiasm and practically skipped to my room. I could hear my parents arguing; my mother trying to completely demean me to Dad while he was defending me. Nothing about this surprised me. I droned out the shouts that I had long been accustomed to, and dozed off for who knows how long.
"Mavis." I rolled my eyes as I woke to my mother's voice.
"What could you possibly want and hope to get from me?" I said tiredly as I rubbed my eyes an started making my bed.
"Listen...May." I flinched. This is only the third time in as many years that she's called me that.
"I know that you hate me, and probably want me out of your life." I faced away from her, unable to see her in such a fragile state without breaking down. This made me absolutely furious, which of course made me want to cry more, which was the original cause of this issue.
"Or dead." I shuddered and finally let go as she spoke that last line. In tears, I slowly turned around to face her, but she was looking down at the ground rather than at me.
"No, of course n-" I began, but was cut off.
"I don't care. Listen to me. You think I want you to misbehave? Out of spite no less? I know that I haven't been the ideal mother to you-"
"Ideal? Fuckin' ideal?" My tears quickly dried up as I was now in a pure fit of rage.
"No. You were so much less than that. You left me the day we got released from the hospital! The day that I was born! Then, you weren't there for a single birthday 'till I was seven! Fucking seven years old!" I could tell that my voice was going to be sore after this, but that was the least of my concerns.
"Your father wasn't there eith-"
"Well at least he had the decency to call me. Video chat with me. Send me gifts and cards in the mail. He may not have been here, but he never missed anything. And that's a whole hell of a lot better than I can say about you."
"That's not what I came up here to talk about, May." I scoffed. She was trying to use my 'beloved nickname' to gain sympathy. Ridiculous.
"I'm getting you a sitter."
"What? Sit- babysitter?" I leaned towards her in disbelief. "Seriously?!"
"It was your father's idea."
"No it wasn't." I said under my breath, then louder. "No, it wasn't."
" Your behavior is completely unacceptable. We can't trust you. This is the, what, twentieth time you've done something reckless while we were out of town? Working hard to earn money to support you?
It was either this or boarding school. Consider yourself lucky." As she turned away from the room, she whispered something back to me, but obviously meant for me to hear it. "You ungrateful little bitch."
Upon hearing her words, I charged at her, and would have beet the living shit out of her if one of the maids hadn't restrained me.
"It's alright, May." She whispered in my ear, holding me up by my arms as I collapsed onto the ground.
"Fuck!" I punched the hardwood floor once. Then again, and again and again until I lost count. Or maybe the maid stopped me. Or I passed out, or even a combination of all three. All I knew was that I bought into my mother's 'caring mommy' act. Again. I just wanted to believe that she was different this time, just like I do every time, because I need that so much. I need my mother to love me, to not call me a bitch or ship me away to who knows where so that I can become a stuck up whatever the hell she is.
I woke up the next morning with bloody knuckles, and a note beside my bed from Dad.
'Got another trip, be back as soon as we can sweetheart. The sitter should be there by now, Here's their number: ***-***-****.
xoxo, Dad.'
I threw the paper on the floor and realized then that my hands were tightly wrapped in thick white bandages. I remembered what happened, I was just unaware that I was given medical attention. I stepped out of the room, being careful to avoid the dented floorboard directly outside my door. There was no more blood on it, but just seeing it makes my hands hurt.
I sighed and stood at the top of the stairs, searching my body for the motivation to step down them.
Then came the good old, morning sarcasm:
"This is going to be great."