THE TAYLORS [H.S]

4.

Anna

Sunday's were often peaceful at our house. It was the one day where the clubs weren't open, and I found my brothers relaxing at home. They didn't do what most guys did and lounged around playing video games and hang out with their friends. Their days of relaxing meant sleeping in until noon, and organising the week ahead of them without too much of a disturbance from the outside world. Either way, I appreciated the fact they were home, as much as we argued, I felt a strange sense of calmness when they were all here. It was like the subconscious stress I felt leave my body knowing nothing could happen to them while they were home.

Today, however, wasn't one of those days. I could already tell it was about to become an interesting day. When I wandered into the kitchen to get breakfast, I was greeted by my mother leaning against the kitchen island, wine glass in her hand, and her phone in the other. I ignored the fact it was only ten AM, I gave her a tight smile.

I wouldn't say my mother was an alcoholic per say, because an alcoholic meant that she drank constantly. My mother only drank when something went wrong within the business and she was so stressed that she couldn't unleash her emotions correctly. That was pretty often though, I will admit. She usually threw herself into some sort of project if she wasn't drowning herself in some sort of alcoholic beverage. She had renovated the lounge room, and redecorated the bedrooms. More recently, she had just finished our kitchen.

Everything use to be white. White tiles, white bench tops, stainless steel appliances. It had looked like something out of a house of royalty. It didn't last long though. A few months ago, Johnny came home one day, dripping blood into the white tiles. He had gotten into a fight with a bunch of guys, but wouldn't tell us the details of what had happened. He had a black eye and busted lip. His nose was tripping like a fountain and the gash in his side was seeping blood through the makeshift bandage he had wrapped around it. He later told me he had gotten stabbed and needed me to help him clean up the wound. I did that for them more times that you would consider normal. I use to hate the sight of blood, but now it felt like it was just an average thing to do around here.

My mother had scrubbed and scrubbed the floor until her fingers were numb and raw and you couldn't enter the kitchen without getting the bleach fumes in your eyes and in your mouth. She kept saying it had stained and she could still see the droplets of blood on the floor, even though we all repeatedly told her that there was nothing there. She had then demanded my father to provide the funds to change the entire kitchen so it reflected the same colour as his soul. The next week, all the cupboards were dark ruby red wood and the kitchen benchtops were a glittery black. No one had commented on how our kitchen now looked like something out of a horror movie, we just let our mother do what she needed to do to distract herself from our haunted reality.

"Everything alright?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light. My mother's hair was white as snow, and it was in loose curls which framed her face perfectly. Her bright blue eyes that usually looked alive and beautiful, were dull and slightly glassy, and it made me wonder how long she had been drinking for. Her makeup was done like she was about to go to a wedding, and it hid the heavy bags I knew were under the layers of concealer. My mother was beautiful, she looked like a porcelain doll, so delicate and fragile. You'd never think she'd ever have the capability of hurting a fly. Even drunk, she looked like something out of a magazine. She always did upkeep her image of being a perfect wife when she company was around. Given that there was no one with her in the kitchen, I could only assume that our company was with my father, somewhere in the house.

My mums big eyes lifted from her phone, only to give me a small glance before she looked back down at her phone and took another large sip from her glass. "There's a meeting."