Day 1

DAY 1

 

It's the night after my last exam. My mother is downstairs praying that I've passed all my tests. I'm just praying I've passed enough of them to not have to do it again. There's nothing more awful than to have to be constantly surrounded by stressed out teenagers. Not to mention my mother. She's as bad as twenty of my classmates.

“Honey! Are you coming down for dinner?” My mother's voice floats up the stairs.

“Not hungry!” I yell back. My voice is anything but floaty. Unlike my mom, who is like a fairy stuck in the wrong world, I'm practically the creepy witch. Always tired, never pretty, and rough around the edges. I push myself deeper into my blankets, and turn the music up. I just want to disappear.

 

“Alexandra. Up. You're having dinner, whether you like it or not.” My mother yanks my headphones off, which has got to be the worst feeling ever, along getting your earbuds ripped out of your ears. My comforter follows quickly.

“Mom, really?”

“Yes, sweetheart. We're celebrating! Your exams are over! You're a grown woman now!”

I roll my eyes at her enthusiasm. “I thought I became a woman when I got my period,” I comment dryly. She laughs her fairy laugh. “Oh, honey, you're hilarious. Now come have dinner, please.”

With that, she leaves. I sigh, pushing all the air out of my lungs, the way my therapist tells me to. I'd rather spend the night listening to Seafret, but I get up. There really is no point in arguing with my mother. She always gets what she wants anyway.

 

When I get downstairs, I see what my mom meant with “We're celebrating!”. The lights are turned down low, some type of happy pop music is playing in the background, and a bottle of champagne graces our little dining table. “Surprise!” My mom shouts. Her smile is huge. Sometimes I have no idea how she's in her forties. It seems impossible that so many years have done nothing for her childishness. “It looks great, mom,” I say softly and force a smile, resigned to playing nice for the evening. I can do that, if nothing else.

“I know!” She's practically squealing now. “Look, I made your favorite dinner: spaghetti with meatballs and extra sauce!” That's my favorite dinner from when I was twelve. I haven't got a favorite anything now, so I don't bother correcting her. Instead, I smile again, and sit down. I wait for my mother to start chattering. She can't stand silence, which is very convenient for when I don't feel like talking. So, all the time. And a moment later she begins, as predictable as rain after a heat wave. Today it's about work. Apparently some new guy flirted with her, which is obviously the most exciting thing ever. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a horrible daughter. I really do try for my mom. I always listen, I try to be empathetic, and I never ever get in trouble. I just don't really have the energy to do anything more than that. Dinner is over reasonably quickly, and as soon as it's not considered rude, I get up and carry the dishes to the kitchen. My mother is captivated by something on her phone, and doesn't notice. My smile slips off my face once I'm not in eyesight anymore. I try to think positively about tomorrow, but there really isn't much to look forward to. School is officially over now. I have nowhere to go. My mother wants to go on a vacation, but I'm not entirely sure I could stand having to be happy constantly for an entire week. The only thing that's coming next week is my meeting with my therapist. Not that that's very exciting.

“Alex, do you want some champagne?”

 

That night, after finally getting my mother to go to bed, I lock myself into my room. My dark, wet hair hangs down my back, creating black splotches on my over-sized green t-shirt. It's one of the few things of my dad's that I own, but I try not to think about that. It's not worth it. My therapist says to embrace the thoughts when they come. I say that I push them away until I manage to forget again. I throw myself onto my bed, and slide on my headphones again. I have time to pick out Jake Isaac before the tears start running. I just lay down and let them come. I'm not entirely sure when it stops, or if it stops at all. All I know is that I wake up, my laptop dead, to a gray morning. First day of summer, everybody. Lovely.