Bates & Landon [Wattys2015]

BATES

Bates

The thunder made a loud sound outside, jerking me awake from my dreams. Emmy was curled against me -- I guess she had crawled in my bed to sleep with me, she didn't like storms. I ran my fingers lightly through her hair before standing up and heading to the kitchen. My mom was passed out on the couch, drunk as usual.

Once I grabbed a water, I walked closer towards her to examine her further. Her mouth was wide open and her hair was a mess -- tangles and knots everywhere. Her choice of clothing was horrible. I mean, I didn't really have a lot of fashion sense when it came to women, but the red cloth she decided to wear was not very well picked out. It barely even looked like a dress, it barely even covered her body. Emmy didn't need to see her wearing that.

"What are you doin' up?" My mom, half asleep, spoke as she slowly made her ways towards the table I was sitting at after a while of me sitting at the table.

"The storm woke me," I answered her question after she sat down, running her fingers through her messy and greasy hair.

"I remember you used to be terrified of storms," she says just like Emmy was, but I wasn't anymore, "and I used to hold you while you fell asleep. Do you remember that?"

"No, I don't," I said sharply, even though I did remember.

"Why can't you?" She asked, still half drunk it seemed. Every time she got drunk she would start yelling at me. So this was different and surprising to me.

"Because all I remember when I was a child was when you used to drown yourself in a bottle of liquor every night," I snapped at her before standing up so fast my knee hit the table and it caused my water bottle to fall over. Maybe I shouldn't have been so harsh. All my anger and frustration wasn't mostly directed at her; don't get me wrong, I was always pissed at her. I was just mostly mad at myself this time.

I went back to bed after that.

•••

"Wake up!" squealed the very similar voice of my little sister, shaking my shoulders with her small hands.

I groan, one eye opening to take a peep at her, "What?"

"You have to get up, lazy bum!" she giggled when I stuck my tongue out at her, "We have to go to school!"

"I know, I know," I yawned, pushing myself up and reaching for a shirt.

"It is too cold to wear a t-shirt," Emmy scolded me like a mom would do if we had a permanent one at this household.

"And that is why," I said as I stood up, "I am wearing a jacket. Cereal or pop tart?"

"Pop tart," Emmy chirped as she skipped off to the kitchen. "Wait!" She yelled when I began reaching for the box of pop tarts that was on the counter by the old, rusty toaster that only popped out burnt food. "Is it chocolate?"

I looked at the box, then nodded. "Yes, Emmy,"

"I want that then."

"Alright." I said, pulling out a pack of a chocolate pop tart and handed it to her. I grabbed a empty bottle of liquor and dumped it in the trash, scowling at the bottle.

After pouring her a small glass of milk, I went towards my moms room. I cracked open the door slightly, seeing that a half full bottle of liquor was hanging loosely from one of her hands that hung off the side of her dirty bed.

Opening the door enough so I can fit in, I squeezed in and tip toed towards her and slowly got the bottle of liquor. The last thing I wanted was her to wake up -- drunk and angry -- and cause a scene in our own house.