Saturday Evening

Mom is sitting on my bed. On the ground in front of her is my opened backpack. One hand is holding onto part of the bands of bills that were inside. On the other, are the drugs I never bothered to hide. My legs melt and fuse onto the ground.

“What is this?” She asks, standing up. “Where did you get all this?”

I remember everything now.

“Why did you look through my stuff?” I blurt out, almost yelling.

“Jesus, Gracie! You left me no choice with how wild you’ve been acting,” my mom tosses the money and drugs back into the backpack. “For how long have you been keeping this a secret?”

“You looked through my stuff!”

“Grace, you’re a drug dealer!”

“What?! No!”

“Then explain all this money! All of these drugs? Is this what you do when you go out every night?!”

“I’m not a fucking drug dealer! You would know that if you fucking paid even a little bit of attention!”

I rush over to my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. I try to turn around to leave but my mom grabs onto my wrist and pulls me back to her.

“You don’t talk to me! You don’t let me in. How is that my fault?!”

I jerk my wrist free but my mom grabs onto the other one. Push her down to break free. Mom doesn’t land on the bed, she hits the floor. Her mouth is quivering. My nails are digging into my palms, cutting them. She’s looking up at me. She doesn’t recognize me. I see my reflection in her eyes. I don’t recognize me.

I’m her failure.

I know it’s my mother’s first time on earth. I understand that she tried her best. And I know how hard it is. She was just a kid when she had me. My mom also didn’t have a good childhood when she was little.

And I hate her so fucking much.

I was little too.

“And where were you when I was kid?”

“Grace, I tried the best I could.”

She didn’t try hard enough.

I wasn’t worth the effort.

I try to leave the house as fast as I can. My mom nearly knocks me off the stairs in her frantic panic to get ahead of me. She slams her body against the front door so I don’t leave.

“Grace, what’s going on? Please, just talk to me.”

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“Get out of the way.”

“Gracie…please. You’re everything to me.”

“No I’m fucking not!” I finally scream. “Sara’s more important for you. Andrew’s more important for you. Your job is more important! What do I have to do just for you to fucking look at me!?”

“You’re all I worry about, Gracie!”

Lies.

It’s always been a lie.

I was 8 when I thought I would be beautiful by the time I was 18. That I would have someone to love me despite all my flaws. I’m 18 now. I ran around giving as much love in hopes of getting it back, but it wasn’t quite the same was it? I had to move mountains just to be liked. I was never beautiful, only pretending I wasn’t hideous. I avoid mirrors now. There was nothing pleasant to see there. There was never someone there. I am nothing to myself. I am the incarnation of misery. I no longer have an emptiness inside me for it is filled with hatred.

A hatred that’s been inside me, created from my mother’s neglect.

I was just a child when I would ask other kids to play. I got doors slammed in my face. I was teased on my crooked teeth. I was made fun of because of how big my glasses made my eyes more than they already were. They would say I would smell and that I was dirty. They knew I liked weird things and everyone stayed away from me. All I needed was a friend to hug me when I was left out. Or a hand to hold while watching fireflies at night and pretending they were stars. I just wanted to not feel a knot on my chest.

All I needed was my mom to be around enough to teach me how to make friends. I just wanted her to teach me how to be a fucking normal kid.

I never had a fucking mom.

“Get out of my fucking way!” I try to pull her off the door.

Virginia doesn’t budge. “No, I won’t let you! Grace, please!”

I continue to struggle but to no avail. “I fucking hate you!”

“What?”

“I fucking hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” I slam my fist against the wall until it hurts, then until I can’t bear the pain, then until it becomes numb. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!”

“Grace… please…I’m just trying to…”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Shut the fuck up!”

Funny, my voice harmonizes with the thunder outside.

“Why couldn’t you just acknowledge how I was suffering when I was just a kid? Why did you believe me when I said I was fine?”

I was relentlessly bullied. My entire life. I never had a friend. Middle school was the worst three years of my life. No one is more cruel than kids at that age. The humiliation. The worthlessness. The pain.

Oh, the memories.

They were always there. I just didn’t want to remember.

And I hid behind, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.

Why couldn’t my mom see I was always lying to her?

Virginia’s body goes limp, like she’s given up. “Do you want me to give you a real reason to hate me?”

I already do.

Virginia moves out of the way. “Your father died because I forced him to drive you to the hospital. You were sick and wouldn’t stop crying for the entire night. You didn’t let me sleep. I waited for your father to come home and to take you, just so I can fucking go to sleep. But your dad was more sleep deprived than I was, and I knew that, and I didn’t care. It should have been me.”

“...Why did you never tell me?”

“That guilt is not yours to have.”

“You hated me.”

“I hated that I wanted to,” Virginia whispers. “Do you think I never hated myself for everything I couldn’t give you? Do you think it didn’t kill me for every birthday that I missed, for every Christmas or any other special day? Do you think I didn’t hate myself because I couldn’t be there for my baby girl?”

Virginia is crying and it’s making me cry.

“You’re the love of my life, sweetie.”

She says and it breaks me further.

“Please just talk to me. What is going on with you?! Tell me! Tell me how to fix this! Let me help you!”

I can’t fucking take it.

I need to leave.

“It’s too late…”

“Grace! Please! Don’t go!”

But I don’t look behind me.