I never got over the death of Austin. It fucked with me mentally so horridly, my mother forced me to see a psychiatrist or some shit. Turns out, not only did I have clinical depression, I developed PTSD. I really don't like talking about this, or getting into it. But, as I said its gonna be therapeutic for me. I have to do this for myself.
That school year, I dropped out. I didn't finish my last year in middle school. I didn't even do any state testing. I didn't go outside and hang on the stoop back up in NYC like normal. Since, I was indeed back home up north I couldn't enjoy it. I became a complete introvert. I didn't speak, I barely ate. Hell, I passed out from malnutrition to my own body because of this. I was afraid. The PTSD from the trauma made me afraid of going out in the world. What if I had an episode right in front of people? I knew I wasn't crazy. I was just having an extremely hard time dealing with my grieving process. Eventually even though after my entire un-enrollment of school. By the grace of God, I still passed eighth grade was promoted to high school. I had to enroll there. It was already hard for me, because I really didn't want to go. But, after a summer and my mother's chastising of course I had to enroll. It's not like I was old enough to drop out anyway.
Being in high school was different from middle school. The freedom you had and the cliques that were created was utterly ridiculous. Besides my one best friend Malorie, who I'd stopped talking to as much then and my best guy friend John, I kept to myself. I did not want to be here.
All I'd do was go to school, and come home to be with my mom, repeat. Eventually meanwhile and between while of my first semester, I somehow got sick. So did my mother. To the point we both had to go to the hospital. I remember how they discovered I just had a stomach virus and discharged me. But, something..something was up with my mom. They emitted her in. With the likes of her staying a while.
"I'm gonna call your step-mom to come get you. You go home, and stay home okay? I'll call you out sick for the week I have my phone but, you take the house keys." She told me. "Be safe, mommy loves you." She kissed my forehead. "Maria should be out there for you."
My step-mom and father were split but never got a divorce. He moved to Florida while she stayed up here. She was Brazilian with poor English skills. But, I absolutely adored her. Little did I know that the one time my mom let me take care of myself that it would last longer than I thought.
Two weeks later..
"Remember to tell Mrs. Nelson thank you!" My mother spoke weakly through the phone.
"I told her ma, now you go rest okay? I love you." I spoke melancholy.
"I love you too. Bye baby."
Mrs. Nelson, Mal's mom who I also call mom. She was like my second mother in many aspects. She came to pick me up from my house to spend the weekend with her. My mother didn't tell her about the fact she's in the hospital and not just out of town. I've been doing just fine managing the house by myself. Even though, it really isn't a house it's a brownstone, c'mon it's New York and we're in Brooklyn.
"Lynn, how're you sweetie?" Ma asked me.
"Fine, and you guys?"
"Good."
"Great!" Mal said from the passenger seat.
"Glad to hear that."
For the rest of the ride to her place, they played music and sang along or talked to eachother. I just continued to read on my phone. I didn't want be here. My mother insisted that now since I wasn't sick, I needed to get out. Being that my mom and Mal's mom are best friends, she convinced her to come pick me up for a girls weekend, yuck. We pulled up to her place, and I sighed.
I didn't wanna be here at all.
"Lighten up bitch! She's gettin' pizza tonight!" Mal tried to brighten up my mood.
I plastered a fake smile, adjusting my over night backpack on my shoulders. We made it inside, untouched by a drop of rain into her duplex. Kicking our shoes off at the front door, we jetted up the staircase that lead into her place.
All I could think about is how my life was falling apart. Not only did I barely make it into high school, I keep getting sick and my mother's been in the hospital for over two weeks and yet they still have not to slightest clue to what's up with my momadukes. I had a terrible feeling shit was about to spiral out of fucking control. I could feel it almost. Shit was only getting worse.
"So, did I tell you 'bout how Aaron and I finally stopped playin'?" Mal asked once we stepped foot in her room.
"Really? That's great!" I faked enthusiasm.
"Yeah, he was the one buggin'. The nigga knew I was feelin' him from the jump."
"Word?"
"Deadass."
All I did was entertain her bullshit until I couldn't handle it any longer. I knew this weekend would be a long one.
New characters are coming soon.
