Mother

I heard the front door unlock, then there was the click of heels on the wooden floor of our kitchen. The fridge door was flung open. I uncrossed my legs and closed the textbook that was placed on my lap. I set it on the table and then went into the kitchen. My mother was leaning into the fridge, pulling out a beer bottle. “Where have you been?” I asked, leaning against the wall, my eyes narrowed suspiciously.

She looked up at me, silent. She closed the fridge and pulled off a magnet beer bottle opener, opening the beer, and taking a swish of it. “You know.” She went to walk passed me, but I stepped in front of her.

“No, I don’t know. Where have you been?” I repeated, my voice stronger this time. Her eyes flickered to me, then to the living room.

“Does it matter?” She took a large chug of the beer, then belching in my face. I stepped away, disgusted. She then pushed past me and slumped onto the couch. She put her beer on top of my textbook.

I ran to the table and took her beer off my textbook. I held it up to her face, “Mom, I spent 90 dollars on this book, don’t just put your lousy beer on it.” I pressed it to my chest, hugging it.

She tilted her head. “Expensive book, huh?” She took another sip. I grabbed the beer out of her hand.

“Yes it is, now tell me what you’ve been doing, you still haven’t answered me. I had to leave work early because Michael called me crying. What did you say to him? He said you just left after that.”

Her eyes remained on the beer, “You’re nagging me so much today, it’s like you’re my mother. That’s my job, not yours.”

“Maybe it would be your job if you actually did it.” I snapped back. She looked shocked for a moment, before going back to her usual unfazed face.

“Give me my beer back, Angie.” She commanded, holding out her hand.

I pulled it away, “Not until you explain what you’ve been doing.”

She took a deep breath, “I was out.”

“Doing what?”

“Stuff.” She growled. “Now leave me the fuck alone or I’m going to bash your head in.” I slammed the beer on the table, glaring while walking upstairs to my room. She looked back at me, bored.

I took a peek into Michael’s room, he was sound asleep in his bed, stuffies piled around him. I smiled, “Sweet dreams,” I whispered. I quietly closed the door and left to my room. I made my bed and slide into the sheets. It isn’t fair, I thought. He would be such a bright kid if our mother wasn’t so…

I fell asleep. By morning, I had forgotten ever thinking the thought.