“Why exactly did you come here?” My voice was raspy. “What in the hell gave you the nerve to just show up like this?”
I had no clue how she’d even found out where I was. I guess she’d done some digging, asked old friends, or maybe she saw an article about John in the newspaper. She read the newspaper a lot when I was younger, checking which one of her friends had been pinned or busted for some illegal shit.
My mother looked at me in shock. I hated that her eyes were so similar to mine. “I—I found out my daughter was dying.”
“No, you found out that I’m married now to John. You knew I was dying when you were still in prison and didn’t give a shit about it when I wrote to you. I didn’t tell you anything about John, now all of a sudden I get a call about how you’d love to meet him?” I slouched back, crossing my arms across my chest tightly. “Bullshit.”
She looked through the corner of her eye at John. John sighed and walked to the door. “I’ll give you two a minute.”
“No.” I stopped him before he could make it out the door. She was no longer looking at me. Her focus had flown out of the window a long time ago. She scratched at her neck, her arms, her mangled, disgusting brown hair. She was an addict. I couldn’t stand it. “Don’t even bother going because she’s leaving.”
She finally met my eyes. “Shannon—”
“Get out, Allie. Now.” I sat back, feeling a pain in my chest but for the first time it wasn’t from the meds or the OPX. It was like my chest had been cracked open and all the emotion was pouring out. My mother stood, reaching for the knockoff purse beside her chair, eyes glistening.
“Okay. I’ll come back tomorrow. Maybe you’ll feel a little better. I heard that OP stuff they have you on gives you bad side effects, makes you feel bad or something like that.”
I scoffed and sat forward again as she grabbed the door handle. “No, I don’t think you’re understanding,” I snapped before she could go.
She blinked, turning halfway.
“You left me and Tessa to lookout for ourselves. Grandma took us in, but she was sick and couldn’t do much and you knew that, yet you left her with that burden.” I shook my head, tears hot in my eyes. “I was seventeen when she died, Mom. Seventeen with two fucking jobs and living in a foster home with a shitty guardian. We could have lived with Aunt Jessie, but you lied on her and said she did drugs with you too! Because of you, I got behind in school because I was taking care of my baby sister and myself. I’m lucky I even got to graduate.”
She blinked again and I really, really wanted to slap her for acting so dumbfounded, as if she knew none of this. “W-what are you saying, Shannon?”
“I’m saying I never want you to come back to see me again. You weren’t there for me before, when I needed you most, so I definitely don’t need you now. Tessa is finally gaining stability—finally living her life the way she should be. She doesn’t even know you’re here and I think it’d be best to keep it that way. If she wants to see you on her own, she can, but I won’t allow you to just barge back in, acting like everything is supposed to be rainbows and fucking sunshine. I won’t, Allie. I refuse. You lost that right the day you decided doing and selling drugs was more important than taking care of your daughters. And you wanna know the worst part of all this?”
She looked at me, waiting for me to finish with glossy eyes.
“The worst part is you haven’t asked about Tessa once since entering this room.” I scoffed. “You’re still the same. You only care about yourself. You’ll never change.”
Allie’s face was tear-stained by the time I was done talking. I wasn’t sure if she was hurt by my words, or just upset that she didn’t get any money to spend on drugs, so I told John to give her the one hundred dollars I had in my night bag and then I told her never to come back—that I’d rather die in that moment than see her face for another second.
I didn’t care what she did with the money, but a part of me hoped she’d use it to buy the damn drugs and forget about me. Forget that she ever even birthed me.
I can’t lie.
I kind of regret it, but deep down I’m angry at my mother. I’m angry at her because I wanted to grow up with her like a normal teenage girl. There was a time when I looked up to her and respected her—before all of the drugs and near-death experiences.