Page 53 of Dark Ugly Places

“Yeah. You and me. And your mother.”

She nods. “Mom. You’re acting like a total freak.”

I shove her backwards against the kitchen counter.

If you hurt my kid, I will end you, Martha.

“Fuck you, Nicola!”

“Mom! What are you doing? You’re scaring me!”

“Your mom is having some kind of moment.” I smack my head, hard, knowing Nicola will get the picture. “Be quiet.”

“Mom, are you taking your medicine? Do you have a migraine right now? Is that what this is? Are you hallucinating?”

Emmy puts her hand on my arm. On her wrist is a friendship bracelet under three black leather bands. I always wanted one of those. The friendship, not the bracelet.

“Just don’t ask about the other night.”

“Fine,” Emmy says, wiping her face. “Can you let me go? You’re acting like a real nut job.”

I release my hands and scan the kid up and down. “You really need to rethink your look, you know that?”

“Jesus Christ! What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Me? Nothing! I look normal. You’re the one with the raunchy tank top, the shaved head, the dyed hair, and the jewelry that screams emo skank.”

Emmy stares at me. “Mom, are you kidding me right now? What is this?”

“Did you ever think that’s why kids at school are talking shit about you? I mean, holy shit, that scar on your head is bad enough, but you’re decorating it like it’s some kind of prize or something. Maybe you should try to cover it up.”

Emmy looks down at her hands. “You know I’ve tried a million times.”

“Yeah, well, why hasn’t your mom ever helped you?”

“That’s a good question. You’re busy.”

“You’re your mom’s entire world. Don’t you know that?”

Emmy’s eyes tear up. “I get it. You’re having a really tough day. But the plate and everything? Geez, Mom!”

I sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.” My body arches and stretches in my chair. “I just forget sometimes, you know? It’s hard coming back from the dark and trying to exist again.”

“Tell me about it.” Emmy plays with her black bracelet, snapping and unsnapping it on her wrist. “So, you think I look like an emo skank?”

My hand finds her grilled cheese. I bite into the corner. “Yeah. I do.”

She smirks. “That reference is so nineties.”

My shoulders shrug. “Well, that’s my era. Live with it.”

A laugh bursts through her lips. “You’re on drugs.”

“I’m not. Don’t need them.”

“No. That’s what it is. You’re smoking weed.”

“I’m not, but if you have any, I will smoke it right the fuck now.”