Love Me Like You Hate Me (Edited Version)

Chapter 19

My mother lived in a small one room apartment. The living room, or as I had known it for the better part of my life, my bedroom, was connected to the small 3 by 3 foot kitchen. In the time that I had lived with my mother, I had done all the shopping and cleaning, and if my mom was sober enough to eat proper food, I'd cook too. More than half of the memories that I had attained in my lifetime came from walking through that front door, but only as I stood there now did they all come rushing back to me. There was still a scuff at the base of the door from the many times I had used my foot to close the door when my arms were too loaded down with groceries.

When I listened at the door, I was relieved I couldn't hear anything. From experience I knew to take that as a good sign; it meant there were no boyfriends home or my stepdad. Tentatively, I reached out and knocked on the door. "Mom?" I called.

There was no response and I wondered if she wasn't home. If she wasn't I wouldn't have a place to stay for the night. It wouldn't be my first time sleeping on a bench, but I was too keen on it. Many a night I had been kicked out by my step dad and forced to find shelter in a park a few blocks up the road, the only place the police wouldn't nab me for lingering. I nelt down and lifted the corner of the dirty WELCOME HOME mat, picking up the spare key underneath. I had placed that key there after being locked out on my way home from school. Unlocking the front door, I stepped in cautiously.

The apartment was a wreck as usual, garbage and clothes littered the floor. It smelled of cheap air refreshener, but that alone wasn't enough to hide the pungent scent of cigarette smoke and whiskey, the combination making my head hurt in a way I was all too familiar with. I glanced around as I took off my shoes and set my bags on the couch. "Mom, are you here?" I tried for the second time to call out for my mom. Again, there was no response, however, I heard a noise come from the bedroom.

I walked over quickly and pushed the door open. My mom was laying in bed, head stuffed in a pillow with one leg peeking out from under the covers. I sighed and walked over to her, picking up the over-flowing ashtray under my mother's arm and placing it on the nightstand beside the bed. My mom stirred when I moved her arm and looked up at me in a daze. "Erik...?" she murmured. Then her eyes watered and she smiled. "Honey... I've missed you so much..." She kissed my hand repeatedly as she crawled into a sitting position and hugged it to her chest mournfully. "You came home..."

My chest hurt. "No..." I said. "No, mom. I'm just here for a couples of days."

My mother's smile fell and she dropped my hand to her lap, looking disappointed. "Oh... I understand..." she said, struggling to her feet. She stumbled into the living room and over to the small fridge in the kitchen area. "Want some dinner? I can make... food," she offered.

She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of alcohol. When I saw it, I sighed. "Mom, please. Don't do that," I said, going to her and grabbing the bottle gently.

She stared up at me and then looked down at the bottle. For a moment, she resisted letting me take it away. Then she let go of the bottle and turned back to rhe fridge. "Sorry... I'll just..." She sighed sadly.

I set the bottle on the counter and pulled my mom back to her room. I sat her down on her bed and smiled kindly. "Just go back to bed. I'll get you some water and clean up a little," I told her.

After laying her down and fluffing her pillow to make her more comfortable, I turned the light off and left the room. I spent the next few hours cleaning the rest of the apartment and airing out the living rooms. I swept the floor, mopped, and threw out any traces of alcohol I could find. To my mom's credit, I didn't find any drugs or recent male garments. It wasn't a big change, but my mom was doing better. She was trying, at least.