Who knew mid April could be so warm. She was already sweating as she started hanging paintings on the walls. Maybe the heat was getting to me. Maybe that’s why I got so angry. I think maybe even the whitewash walls were sweating. “What is the matter with you?” she said with mild irritation. I screamed back with extraordinary force, “EVERYTHING- this house, him, you, me, us!” “Don’t be dramatic”, she says while rolling her eyes, patronization leaking from her pores like sweat. I couldn’t remember a time where I had felt so misunderstood and angry. Once again, it was like nothing I would say could change her mind. Nothing I said mattered to her. Until I’d overheard him, that is, talking about my mother behind her back. And to her cousin no less!
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But alas, I was losing, we were staying, I just knew it. At least, that’s what I thought. Mom took a totally different route than I had expected her to. “Sorry, majority rules.” I jumped off of the cold commode and almost forgot I wasn’t supposed to be listening. I turned the faucet on and ran my hands under the cool stream, silently thanking whatever brain aneurism my mother was currently having today. “That’s okay, you know. You’ll be back.” I thought people only said that in movies. What else would I expect from someone like him though, right? The next day we were completely packed up and ready to kick it into high gear. Only, we didn’t. “We only have to wait until I have enough money to get us an apartment.” All of my hopes and dreams and aspirations were smeared into obscurity. Okay, so maybe I am a little dramatic but my current situation wasn’t working for me. I knew we weren’t leaving. Months passed and he had her again. My mom thought it would be wise for them to get married. I guess it’s because he’s so nice and honest, and real. Either way, I can’t really understand why she married him. We moved constantly and I never unpack. Why should I? We’ll only pack it back up and move somewhere else. I’m not a fan of repetitive
But alas, I was losing, we were staying, I just knew it. At least, that’s what I thought. Mom took a totally different route than I had expected her to. “Sorry, majority rules.” I jumped off of the cold commode and almost forgot I wasn’t supposed to be listening. I turned the faucet on and ran my hands under the cool stream, silently thanking whatever brain aneurism my mother was currently having today. “That’s okay, you know. You’ll be back.” I thought people only said that in movies. What else would I expect from someone like him though, right? The next day we were completely packed up and ready to kick it into high gear. Only, we didn’t. “We only have to wait until I have enough money to get us an apartment.” All of my hopes and dreams and aspirations were smeared into obscurity. Okay, so maybe I am a little dramatic but my current situation wasn’t working for me. I knew we weren’t leaving. Months passed and he had her again. My mom thought it would be wise for them to get married. I guess it’s because he’s so nice and honest, and real. Either way, I can’t really understand why she married him. We moved constantly and I never unpack. Why should I? We’ll only pack it back up and move somewhere else. I’m not a fan of repetitive