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“Hey thanks, Tracy! I’ll pick you up next weekend for a date?” asked one of them.
Tracy ignored my protests and smiled back. “Absolutely! Enjoy fucking the outcast.”
“Are you kidding me right now?!” I screamed at her.
She shrugged back. “You didn’t think I really wanted to be friends with the town whore’s daughter… did you? Oh, that’s so cute!” she cooed at me.
I promised myself I wouldn’t trust anyone ever again after that. I fought my way out, kicking and screaming, but only when Mrs. Rystek walking by with her yappy dog made them stop did they relent.
“You really shouldn’t be with boys this late, Lennon,” she says as I run past crying. “Whatever happened was exactly what you deserved. Why can’t you be a respectable girl, then nothing bad would ever happen to you.”
Clearly, she was wrong then, because I was always a good girl, and always had bad things happen to me.
Tears run down my face as I stare at the blindingly white ceiling.
“Are you feeling sorry for yourself again?” asks a voice I know too well, but haven’t heard in years.
“Yes, Mom, I am,” I mutter, not bothering to blink away my tears. I would rather pretend I’m having auditory hallucinations right now. Mr. Xav keeps asking me if I’m having any side effects from the medication, and I’ve been lying to him. I’ll lie to him tomorrow too and the next day. I’m already a mass of bruises, what’s another one?
“Meh, that’s not going to help anything,” she admonishes.
Deciding I need to know if I can see her, I blink away my tears. As they clear, I see familiar blue eyes and silver-blonde hair. Sighing, I lean against the wall, knowing this is going to be a night filled without sleep. The pill’s effects ease after the first hour, so I can mumble responses, but my legs and arms still feel leaden. I’m a prisoner to my delusions, and she looks like she may feel chatty.
“What do you expect me to do?” I whisper.
My mom rolls her eyes, sitting on the floor. She looks so real, but I can’t reach out to see if I can touch her.
“I expect you not to be a little bitch about this,” my mom says. “So you’re crazy, and you can see me, so what? There are worse things to be, you know. We may as well talk before those meds erase me again.”
My eyes widen. Is it awful that I don’t want her to go away? My mom was a terrible parent, but after learning my father threw us away and never looked back, all I can think about isat least she stayed.I’m not ready for her to disappear yet.
“I don’t want you to go,” I whisper.
Mom shrugs with a smile. “So talk to me until I do. You can’t change anything here. It’ll happen whether you want it to or not.”
I sigh softly. “I hate not being responsible for my actions, I’ve made my own path and fought for it. And now… it’s all gone.”
Mom’s eyes almost look predatory as she looks at me eagerly. “Tell me what you’ve fought for?”
So I do.
“When I heard you died, I hitchhiked out of Farrelsville and to a new city I knew nothing about. I bartended at a shitty bar, pushed away advances all while struggling with anxiety around so many unknown men. I learned… to enjoy my life while I could, which led to singing at an open mic night, changing my life,” I explain, my eyes unfocusing as I remember the past.
“Why did you get up and sing when you’re afraid of crowds?” Mom asks.
Humming absently, I think about the question. “I was with a new group of people who I hoped would become friends. I didn’t enjoy the crowd at the bar, but I was used to it from work. I had a couple of drinks, and when I stood on stage… I just belted out the lyrics of one of my favorite songs. I didn’t realize there was a talent scout there. He was really nice, and managed to get around my skittishness,” I explain.
I am not telling my mom Mr. Castle paid me six hundred dollars to meet the men who became my band members. Nope. I can only imagine what Mom would say, even in my delusions. I swear she looks so real…
I yawn widely, the medication starting to make me sleepy. Since I’ve been forced to take it, it’s always the same. It hits me like a ton of bricks, then I’m lucid for a little while, and then extremely sleepy.
“Your life has been really exciting so far without me, hasn’t it?” Mom asks. I blink at her as my eyes droop. “Are you having sex with all the men in your band?”
Shouldn’t my delusions know this?I continue to stare at her, trying to work out what’s happening, but I’m really tired. Something feels wrong.
I ignore the question, which is how I sidestepped things I didn’t want to answer when she was alive. “I’ve been really blessed in love, with overprotective men who adore me.”
A scowl passes over her face and I smile softly to myself as I fall asleep, knowing I can still annoy my dead mother.
