Seniors

Chapter one

Chapter one

Lacing up her roller blades, Phoenix was reminded that it was only a few more hours until she could get out of her itchy red dress. It was the only dress she'd ever owned, and for the simple reason that she hated dresses. If the pesky boy next door hadn't covered her skateboard in toothpaste then maybe she wouldn't have minded as much, but he had, and just because she had replaced his shampoo with pink hair dye. Needless to say, Phoenix also hated kids.

Placing her hands against the wall for support, she stood up slowly, as not to lose her balance. When she had successfully stood with arms outstretched, she let out a sigh shortly before taking in a breath, vomit and alcohol wafting towards her nose. Grimacing, she made her way towards the living room, the wheels running against the tile floor sounding throughout the quiet apartment.

"Karen--"

Phoenix couldn't stand to call her mother 'Mom' or 'Mother' or even, 'Mommy'. Her mother never acted like an actual mom, so she never addressed her as one. She felt like her mom didn't deserve to be a mother anyhow, she told Phoenix daily that she was a mistake, that her father was just another one of her one-night stands when she was a show-girl in Vegas. Despite her loathing for children, Phoenix knew that if she were to ever have any, she would love them with all her heart and never say such things to them.

"Karen, wake up!"

The thirty-seven year old waitress who almost never showed up to work laid on her stomach, face pressed up against the floor, drool dripping from her chin, a pool of vomit next to her ear. Around her lay several empty bottles, and even before she saw the label, she knew it was beer; the smell was unmistakable.

Picking up the empty bottles cautiously, Phoenix found a whole other pack behind the artificial plant next to the couch. After placing the bottles in the trash with a clink, she emptied the ones she had found into the sink, pinching her nose to block the smell.

The liquid came out in spews,, and from the living room, Phoenix could hear her mother stir, a grunt sounding from where she had been laying moments before. "What the--hey! Where the hell is my beer?!"

Phoenix rolled into the living room, placing a hand on her hip. "Down the drain." Karen's face turned a deep shade of red, her eyes bulging out of their sockets. She tried to stand before stumbling, swaying back and forth until she fell against the couch. Letting out a disappointed (but not surprised) sigh, Phoenix went over to stand in front of her mother. "You can't keep doing this," she said.

"Doing what?"

"This," Phoenix said, gesturing at her mother's state. "Getting drunk and tearing us apart. You're wasting money so you can numb the pain of being a dead-beat, that you'll never get a good job, or be rich, and that you are pathetic. And all of that is true, but it's not just you, okay? I live here too! I'm practically paying off the rent and you're wasting our money for beer, cigarettes, and nightclubs! I'm having to clean up after you like you're a child! And who's supposed to be raising who? Huh?"

A silence stretched between them, one that was ever-present. Phoenix let a stream of air escape her lips, her mother still giving her an empty stare, making it apparent that she had gotten nothing from what she had just said.

"Look, I got to go to school, so I'll see you whenever I get back...or not."

Phoenix picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder and headed towards the door, grabbing the meatball sandwich she had fixed that morning for breakfast . She had already opened it when she heard her mother's voice behind her.

"When's the ceremony?"

Phoenix paused, the door halfway open. She had expected her mother to forget--counted on it, even. She couldn't stand the stares that followed her everywhere. The way her face turned bright red, how she looked down and tried to ignore them, but never could. She hated the whispers. The ones that predicted she would be just like her mother. No, she thought. It's not true. But a part of her knew that it was. And it scared her. No matter how confident she pretended to be.