My Badboy Next Door

G R I E F

Ace and I rode back to my house in silence. Without Mum.
When I got home, I told Ace that I needed to rest.
" You shouldn't be alone" he said, before I closed the door.
" I know, I love you" I say, my throat beginning to burn. However, I had no tears left. Only pure anger.
" love you too" he said sadly.
I shut the door.

I wondered around the house for an hour, not knowing what to do. I couldn't go upstairs cause then I would look at the pictures of Mum and I.
Seeing her stuff was too much. Her phone on the counter, the white vase that we inherited from Gran, her stray jackets flung over chairs, her jewellery on the coffee table, her shoes kicked by the door. It made me angry. I was alone.
The anger was like a hurricane, threatening to destroy everything in its path. I had bottled it up tight at the hospital, now the bottle had smashed.
I threw the chair across the room, hitting the wall on the other side. I pushed the table violently, smashing the vase on the tiles. I pushed everything off the tables and smashed the glass coffee table, then fell to the ground and cried, hard. Turns out, I still had tears.  But I couldn't breath. Grief was caving in, robbing me of breath.
Then Ace put his arms me, stroking my hair, my tears staining his shirt. I wasn't bothered about how he got in when I locked the door, only that he was here.
He rocked me back and forth, hushing me like a baby.
I fell asleep in his arms, there's no way he would ever leave me.

I wake up to the sound on a vacuum. I was in a horrible mood, not finding happiness in anything.
As I open my eyes, I realise what's happening.
Ace tidied the whole house for me.
There is no more shattered glass on the floor, and I can't see anything that belongs to Mum. But there's a cardboard box in the corner. And its big.
I smell food. Bacon and eggs?
" Mourning" Ace says, turning the vacuum off.
" Mourning" I say.
" I cleaned the house for you, sorry I woke you up" he says apologetically.
" It's ok" I say, getting up.
" I'm going to the toilet" I finish.
I walk upstairs. The photos of Mum and I still hanging on the wall. It hurts me. If  I wasn't broken before, then I certainly am now.
I get to the bathroom. Mums makeup that used to litter the bench is gone. The white marble bench is clean and a single succulent now sits in the corner. The sink is white again, no longer stained from vomit of Mums late night drinking. The bathroom looks posh. Too posh for me.
Then it hits me, I didn't want to see mums stuff, but it doesn't mean I wanted to get rid of it straight away.
I get undressed and hop into the shower, and turn it on as cold as it will go. Then I stand there. My whole body under the water, even my head. And I cry.
I loved Mum and now I will never get to tell her in person.

After my shower, I got dressed and wondered around the house to inspect Aces cleaning job. It was like anyone's dream home. I never knew I owned such a beautiful place. There's no more alcohol bottles littering the hallway, and no more bad vomit smell.
This is weird to admit but I actually miss it. Because it reminded me that mum still was here, even after the pain she went through.