Surviving The Blues

32

"Here." She hands me a cup with the pills prescribed by the psychiatrist. I look down at it. She places a glass of water in front of me and sits directly across from me. She picks up her spoon and shoves it into the jar of low calorie, over night oats she made. It's pretty. She seems to be a perfectionist. I've noticed her need to have everything in place. Even the green apples and roasted almonds on top of our breakfast is perfect.

I have the exact same jar of food in front of me. I am not really a breakfast fan, but she insisted I have some. My idea of breakfast is some form of cereal and oat milk because dairy in the morning messes with my stomach. Once in a while, I'll stop by the corner store and buy something if I am really hungry. However, most mornings, I don't eat breakfast at all. Some people intentionally skip breakfast when they intermediate fast. I don't do it intentionally. No, my father and I just have few grocery items in the house. We run on convenience rather than health.

"Come on, kiddo..." she seems to realize that her words indicate that we are familiar with each other. She gulps when I look up at her. Her face gains several different shades of red. My face is blank, no hint of emotions visible. Inwardly, I am thinking about how much I hate being here and around her. The last few days have been hell with the medication and being around her.

"It makes me feel worst." The doctor's cocktail medicine to manage my issues seem to make me worst. It's numb at best and maybe a little bit unsure.

"Come on, Faith. It's supposed to help you. The doctor-" Not in the mood for a lecture, I throw all the pills into my mouth and grab the glass of water. I swallow them all at once. "Now was that so hard?" I look up at her again. "Eat up. We have to leave in ten minutes."

"I rather take the train. It's more efficient and there's less traffic."

"Your dad and I both think it is best for me to drive. Your principle also wants to meet to discuss your absence." She says.

"You aren't my guardian. My father is."

"I am your parent."

I choose not to say anything despite wanting to say so many things to her. I keep myself calm so I won't say the wrong things. After I have eaten some of her breakfast, we leave the house. I can tell she doesn't live here. Everything is the apartment is brand new. It looks like an arrangement taken out of a store catalogue. The building is clean and there's no one loitering in the hallway unlike at my home. There's even an elevator. It's unfamiliar and strange.

The ride to school is long and full of traffic. Still, we make it before time. Then it dawns on me. People know what she looks like. She isn't a random face that people would ignore. It's like seeing Rihanna, everyone knows her even if they don't consume her content. It's the same with my mother. If she gets out the car, eyes will definitely be on us.

"Do you and I have to go together?" I ask her.

"Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"

"I don't want the attention."

"Well, too bad." She says, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Your principal needs to see you too."

She opens the door to her car and gets out and I do the same. We are directly in front the school. I duck to attempt to cover my face. It only takes seconds for people to notice her. She has on a pink dress with with all-over dot and lofty floral embroidery pattern. One side of the dress is off the shoulder along with a similar colored heel. Her hair is curled by the flexi-rod set she took out earlier this morning. Her dangling diamond earrings are paired with a matching diamond necklace. The last time I've been so dressed up was at some random aunt's wedding. My father on the other hand, I've never seen dressed up like she currently is. However, she does fit the part of a parent for a child at this school. I quickly follow behind her before the few students around get the courage to come up to her.

"Lead the way." She says, stopping directly in front of me. Her acknowledgment of her daughter trying to walk inches behind seems to extract whispers from onlookers. I am relieved that the number of students at school are less than one percent of the school's population. It is still too early for a huge crowd.

I let out an inner sigh of relief when we are let into the principal's office. I bite the inner corners of my cheek as he gushes over the revelation of who my mother is. He pretends to show concern when she hands him the note from my doctor. He assures her he will do the best he can so I can feel supported at school. I look down as they make further conversation. I stand up as they say goodbye. I try to exit the room before her because I know the hallway will be full. The people seem to be lingering close to the office door, but I am successful. Of course she calls my name. She seems to be intent on making sure to show she isn't ashamed of me being her daughter.

"Faith!" She yells. My eyes close tightly and I bite my bottom lip as I slowly turn around. "Aren't you going to say goodbye to your mother?"

There's a collective, simultaneous gasp that travels throughout the entire hallway. They had gathered close to the office to get a glance of her I guess. The word seems to have traveled fast. It's a shock to them. Her internet overview only mentions her one son. Her entire life has been documented on the internet. If I were to put her name in the search bar, I would probably see Josephine Blackman had lunch at a small restaurant in the Bronx. Maybe the her new shoes made from reusable plastic and other waste that is trending might show up. There is nothing about a daughter on the internet. She has never mentioned it in all of her years as a celebrity. Yet, today she's proclaiming for a school full of rich, suburban kids to see. People that wear her clothes and then ask me what is life like for the poor people.

"Bye." I mumble. I place my hand over my forehead in shame as I try to hide myself. I turn around yet again, but she isn't done of course.

"Faith!" I turn around again. She's holding up a card. "Here."

I don't have time to protest. All I can do is jog towards her, take the card and quickly walk away. She could have did it in the car or at home, but of course, she needed to cause a scene. A scene that is of course well documented. It will probably be added to articles and blogs found on any google search in an hour.

I quickly make my way to class. I slide down into my seat, trying to hide from everyone. I can feel the stares and hear the voices. The medication doesn't seem to be helping my anxiety or panic at all.

"Good morning, class." A disinterested countenance proves how much she doesn't want to be here. "Today, we'll start your presentations." My eyes widen. Everything else that had been going on is out of my memory. I completely forgot about the presentation. If I had remembered, I would have made sure to remind my partner days in advance. "...and Glendale and Williams." My eyes flutter quickly. I begin to panic inwardly. My medication does nothing to suppress it.

I drop my head on the desk. I place both of my hands behind my head to try and calm myself. I then sit up and pull out my phone under my desk. My trembling hands search for the Glendale contact in my phone.

The door is roughly pushed opened, grabbing all of our attention. "Sorry I am late." Glendale strolls in. Everyone seems to be as shocked as I am. The stack of papers in the teacher's hand falls to the table. Her face is contorted. "I guess I have the right room." He murmurs to himself.

"You are late, Glendale." The teacher fumbles to say. She gave me the worst partner on purpose. She thought he wouldn't show and didn't want to subject any of the other students to that.

"My fault." He shrugs. "Forgot where it was." My eyes are still fluttering. I still can't believe my eyes. "Can I get this seat?" He asks the girl sitting next to me. She shakes her head and moves immediately. "As I promised." He says, looking at me.

My mouth all but falls open. "Okay." Is all I can reply to his appearance.