Stubbornness, pride, and regret. Those are Winter’s strongest emotions as she drags her intoxicated feet across the sidewalk, wishing she would’ve taken the damn ride. She considered going back to Milo and swallowing her pride, but that inward debate lasted for the first 30 minutes of her walk.
Winter finally makes it to the brighter, more affluent side of the city. Dragging her feet she checks the time, 2 in the morning. She considers just sleeping in the park when a car slows next to her before stopping. Winter rolls her eyes, not halting for a minute, not even when she hears the door close behind her.
“Looks like you’re having a rough night. Do you need a ride?” Winter halts in her tracks, the bitterness and hatred slowly consuming her drunken state as she turns to face her “dead” mother. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel when she finally saw her mom but the emotional conflict is stronger than she expected.
Winter clings to her intoxicated state, using the liquid courage to fuel her once again. This is her chance to say the shit she wants without holding back. Even with the new knowledge Winter has about Reuben she still feels bitter and betrayed.
Natasha has a mix of emotions as she stares at her drug addicted daughter. The smaller image of herself is so eerily similar in her daughter although she can’t speak with confidence that if she had stayed, things would be different.
Amidst the anger in Winter’s eyes, Natasha can see the pain and betrayal, furthering the mothers guilt. She’s never been a good mother, hell Winter spent most of the time taking care of Natasha. She was never there for Winter, she was just physically present.
“My mother taught me not to trust rats.” The response is spoken with attitude and shows that she has no intention of being cordial.
“Your mother sounds immature, she should’ve told you not to trust anyone.”
“Well it’s a good thing she’s fucking dead right.”
“Winter…” the girl abruptly turns around, snapping her fingers with a sarcastic laugh.
“You know I used to talk about this shit to myself whenever I got too lonely. You know because I was a child left alone in the streets without a second thought.”
“Win…”
“I’d hide under the slide or anywhere I could find a somewhat safe place to sleep and say: “I wonder if things would be better if mom were alive.” It became a normal question in my mind for years. Turns out I could have fucking called and been living it fucking up with you the entire time. Or at the very least tell your bitch to give me a place to stay. Oh wait, you told me never to trust a fucking rat.” Winter gestures to officer Bailey who has been quietly standing in the back, watching and waiting to support her wife.
“Watch your mouth.” Natasha’s quick reprimanding words pull a humorless laugh out of her daughter.
“It took you fucking dying to reprimand me? That’s fucking hilarious. Too bad you forfeited your right to act like a mother when you abandoned me.”
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“You’re old enough to understand that things aren’t so simple, Winter. You’ve always been a smart kid. I wasn’t the best mother, shit I had no motherly instincts but I care about you. I care about you enough to know you could do better without me. And you did.”
Winter does understand, she saw the shit Reuben did, she was around for some of it, but that doesn’t lessen the bittersweet sting as she looks at her mother.
Winter rolls her eyes as she looks at the put together woman she used to watch strung out on the streets. She’s clearly done better for herself and even in her anger, Winter is proud to see her mother clean and sober, unlike herself. Natasha steps forward, tucking a card into her intoxicated daughter’s pocket.
“I do want to sit down and apologize and explain my side of things. But I know right now you don’t want to listen to anything I have to say.” Despite her anger, Winter smiles fleetingly. It seems her mother might know her better than she first thought.
“I had my reasons, Winter. I wouldn’t have done what I did without thinking you were better without me. However, if I would’ve known you’d end up with those 2-faced bitches called Stone I wouldn’t have done things the way I did.” Natasha waves her hand and a taxi pulls up next to the group.
“Here, when you get curious enough to hear my side, call me.” Natasha hands the girl a small piece of paper with her personal number, only her wife has access to. Winter looks at it, memorizes it, and tucks it into her pocket, getting in the taxi without another word. Maria Bailey stands next to her wife, watching the girl she was once asked to monitor.
“Are you alright?”
“I fucking screwed up with that damn kid. She’ll come around, eventually.” Natasha shakes her head, feeling guilty for seeing her daughter in the same state that she used to be in. She sighs, lighting a joint of her own and going to her car.
“Once everything is transferred, I’ll really be dead to the girl. We’ll be leaving the country and I’ll never see her again. I won’t do anything to make her hate me more beforehand.” Ultimately everything she’s built is for her daughter.
Maria Bailey is blinded by love, rarely asking any questions and following along her wife like a lost puppy. She doesn’t question why Natasha takes the steps that she does, instead Maria stays by her side, ready to go to the ends of the earth for her.
“Let’s get everything ready. It’s time I get you away from all this shit and give that kid what she deserves.”
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It was a long night. The quiet park is a calming contrast to the chaotic swarming around in my mind. Between Milo and my mom I can barely form a straight thought.
I light a cigar, tucking my free hand into my pocket as I settle into the park bench. It’s starting to warm up during the days a bit, but its still cold as fuck. I glance down at the coat surrounding me with warmth, courtesy of Noé. I used to dream of having something this nice and warm during the winter months.
I definitely don’t take it for granted. 30 minutes later, my mom is sitting next to me, her wife on standby like a watchdog.
“I’m surprised you called.” I blow out the smoke, looking at the ghost I saw last night.
“You really are alive.” The words are directed more to myself, a wave of different emotions hitting my more sober mind. Relief, betrayal, anger, hurt, bitterness, gladness, rage, I feel it all looking at the woman I used to call mom.
“Yeah you were pretty fucked up, I wasn’t sure if you’d remember talking to me. Is that…normal for you?” I look at Natasha and raise my brow.
“I know you’re not asking about my drug abuse.” I take another hit of my joint, letting the drugs ease my judgment and give me an open mind.
Natasha doesn’t say anything but I know she wants to comment. She wisely holds her tongue likely sensing that I don’t give a fuck about their concern.
“I called so I could hear your side of the story, not reconnect.”
Natasha nods, not offended by my words although I can see her guilt shine brighter. I’m not trying to guilt trip her but like she said I’m not a kid anymore. There’s no need for us to sugarcoat anything.
“First, there’s something I want to show you. Come on, let’s take a ride.” Natasha flicks her half smoked joint to the ground as she stands from the park bench.