Oh My...

39.) Stranger

a/n
ayyyyyy anyone good at making covers...???

"Want a beer?"

My mom's voice was raspy and harsh, alluding me to believe that she picked up smoking again. I just watched her from the corner of my eye, trying to fight back the urge to lunge at her throat.

Perhaps, in her mind, having a beer with me would dissolve all of the ill blood that has formed between us; as if spending the night on the front stoops of my old house drinking with her would diminish the abandonment I felt when she sent me on that plane to Detroit.

I shook my head. "I want to be alone."

"It's your first night back," my mom complained, grabbing my bicep and giving it a squeeze. "I want to talk to you--I've missed you, you know."

I ripped her touch away from my skin and scooted as far away from her as the long step would allow. "I find that hard to believe!" I barked in a fit of black laughter.

Pain sought its way into my mom's brown eyes--brown eyes that mirrored my own in an almost uncanny way. Wrinkles formed on her forehead as she folded in her lips, staring at me with an expression twisted with remorse. "You know why I had to do it." She whispered.

"I don't, actually." I snapped back, glaring deep into her sorrow filled chocolate gaze. "Did you realize how fucked up Claire is and how fucked up Detroit is? It's like you sent me directly into the fiery abyss--it's like you wanted me to commit-"

"Now you stop it right there!" My mom commanded, her tone sharp with authority. The sadness in her eyes was erased, now they held the same threatening glower most moms wear when their child does something wrong. "I refuse to hear anything about-"

"About what? The fact that I tried to kill myself?"

My mom noticeably flinched back, like I had just tried to hit her. After taking a moment to regain herself, she stood up, and slapped me across the face.

My entire body jerked to the side as a yelp from surprise and pain jolted out my lips. The entire left side of my face burned from the impact, and before I could retaliate she grabbed the hair on the crown of my head and forced me to look up at her.

My eyes stung with tears, but I continued to blare my teeth at her in a defensive sneer.

"Now you listen here and you listen good. Women in the Wallace family have endured countless struggles, humiliation, daunting tasks, and impossible situations. But you know what? We've all made it through with our chins held high. When life pushes us down, you know what we do? We get up and ask for more!

"Alexandra Grace Wallace, I know I raised you stronger and tougher than this. You have power in your blood--I know you got it in you, so why don't you start acting like it?"

She released my hair and sauntered back inside the house. I kept rubbing the place where she hit me, unsure whether to scream in frustration or cry in shame.

* * *

Thanksgiving came early the next morning when I woke up to boisterous laughter that practically shook the whole house. I would try to fall back to asleep, but each attempt proved fruitless due to the rambunctious squeals that would sound every few seconds.

I flipped onto my back and stared dully at the ceiling overhead. I could now make out Claire and my mom talking animatedly to each other, and in the background softly played Tom Petty's American Girl. I shook my head and rolled my eyes; I could imagine the bottle of wine they're splitting together--no doubt they were already drunk. 

I slipped off my bed and looked around my room--it hadn't changed, though part of my doesn't know why it would--I was only gone for a bit more than month. But somehow it felt so much longer, years even. With all the drama that happened in Detroit and then slipping into a state of nothingness, I forgot what being in Brooklyn was like. I felt like a foreigner in my old room--the place that was once my safe haven.

I stepped to my dresser and glanced at the clothes that I left behind. Mostly tank tops and shorts (at the time, all I knew about Detroit was its unforgiving weather). I took off the oversize t-shirt I wore to bed and replaced it with grey track shorts and a tight black wife-beater.

I glanced at myself in the mirror before leaving my room, and my hands timidly went to the necklace Claire gave me. It felt out of place here, like I shouldn't have left the state with it.  I gently held the crucifix in my fingers and stared at it, a terrible feeling of regret swarming in my stomach. Was I making the right choice in leaving Detroit?

Though a part of my brain was convinced it was the best thing I could do for myself, I felt like I didn't belong here anymore. I completely shed my skin and changed as a person in Warren--being back in Brooklyn was like living in a memory. My stomach twisted with nerves, but it was too late now. I can't go back, not after everything that happened.

I dropped the cross and my hands fell to my sides. Taking a deep breath, I regrouped and walked out my room.

Downstairs, the girls were having a party. Mira had joined them and was helping my mom cook, rushing ingredients from the fridge and into her hands. A grin was on her cute little face and she shook with giggles the entire time. Claire was washing vegetables under the sink, singing along to the radio that blared on the kitchen table.

I ran towards them and scooped Mira into my arms. She squealed, but when she realized who I was her eyes lit up with happiness. "ALEX!"

I planted kiss after kiss on her squirming body. My plane landed at midnight, and by the time I got to the house it was two in the morning. I haven't seen this little girl in what felt like a lifetime, and at that moment I forgot about all my problems.

Mira was practically my daughter. Before I experimented with drugs, I was basically her mom; her real mom still lived like she was twenty, leaving for "drinks with the girls" and coming home at four A.M trashed.

That made me all the more bitter about her to kicking me out; I was a better mother than you were for most of my life, and you sent me off the first chance you could?

Mira jumped out of my arms and went back to the fridge, now handing me ingredients to give my mom. "We can both help!" She exclaimed.

I laughed, though still offered the ingredients to my mom like she wanted. "Glad to see you're up early." Claire commented. "Normally, you don't even stir until it's at least three in the afternoon."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah well, these are thin walls." I grumbled.

"You better drop the fucking attitude by tonight," my mom threatened. "I'm not gonna have you mouthin' off; you live here, you follow-"

"Alright alright, sheesh whatever." I cut her off, scowling.

Claire, quick to notice the tense vibe, changed the subject. "Is Katie coming?"

Katie was my aunt and the oldest between my mom and Claire. She doesn't come by often, but she's real well off thanks to her husband. I thought about her two kids, both close in age with me.

A small smile dared to peek out on my mom's lips. "I forced her. Barry was givin' her a hard time about it, but I think she finally convinced him to let her."

Claire snorted. "That damned man. He rules his family like a tyrant," she shook her head in disgust. "I never liked him."

"You've saw the bruises on her, right?" My mom muttered, keeping her voice low.

"I've seen them on the kids."

"Wait, is Katie's husband..?"

Claire and my mom both exchanged an uncomfortable look. "Alex, why don't you run to the store real fast? I need you to grab some more potatoes and meats. Bring Mira with you?"