I glance around at the disaster she’s made. Clothes and shoes are thrown everywhere. I bite my lip, internally stifling a moan. I know what I’m doing tomorrow after she passes out.
“You’re telling me this ismyfault?” Sounding astounded, voice rising. “This was your idea,” Lillian accuses.
Whoever it is on the other side of the line is talking again. Lillian starts pacing, listening intently. The worry lines on her forehead deepening with each turnaround.
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” she argues. Hiccuping into the receiver. “You wanted to meet her.”
Her? As in me? Who else can they be talking about?
I wish I could hear what is being said on the other side of the phone. Who is she talking to? Is it that man from dinner? The one who gave me my new necklace.
Lillian’s movements stall, taking a drink from her bottle of wine. Absentmindedly wiping at her chin when it dribbles.
She’s been listening for a while. Shoulders dropping every few seconds as they coil in closer.
“I’m sorry, okay?” Her voice was different than what I’m used to. Sounding almost sad, childish even. “Forgive me?”
Whoever it is, is talking again, and Lillian doesn’t like what they’re saying. One second her tone is soft, like a plea, the next she ignites. Blowing up into a rage.
“Stop saying that!” She screams. “I’m not crazy.” She retracts, “Know what? Maybe I am, but it’s because of you!Yeah, you!”
My eardrums rattle. A ringing sound echoes in them as the thick glass from the bottle smashes into the wall beside my head. The ruby color of the wine slowly seeps down her beige wall.
If my mother cared more, she’d have noticed me standing behind the crack of the door, her neglectfulness something I’m accustomed to.
“No!” She snaps with an angry pant. “You should have never come.”
Is she crying?
If she isn’t, she’s on the verge.
“No, you don’t understand,” she mutters with a sob. “We’re doing fine without you. I don’t need you.”
Even at my age, I can tell she’s lying. Whatever she’s saying, she doesn’t mean.
“Goodbye.”
Hanging up, she screams. Throwing the phone across the room before the weight of it all settles and the tears start full force. Big, fat, angry tears leak down her cheeks.
I’ve never seen my mother so distraught, so damaged.
I must move or make a sound because suddenly, her head is peeking up from behind her hands. Eyes as wild as her hair.
“What do you want?” Lillian wails with a sob.
Her eyes lower past my chin and before I know what’s happening, she’s up and charging. Fury outweighing the sadness.
“Were you spying?” She accuses.
I take a step back, she matches it.
“No, no, I wasn’t—”
“—Don’t lie. I’ve dealt with enough liars tonight.”
She’s drunk. I can smell the soured fruit on her breath. Those platinum irises that usually match my own are more of an iron color now.
Another step, another follow. “Know what we do with liars? We punish them!”