Crashing Back Down

3

Off in the distance of reality, I heard an awfully annoying buzzing noise, forcing me farther and farther from my dreamless sleep. The sound got louder in my ear until I registered that I was lying on the cold tile of my bathroom floor with my phone vibrating at me to wake up. I groggily propped myself up on one elbow, pressing the answer button just in the nick of time. “Hey Walker, what’s going on?” My voice croaked from my whiskey burnt throat, making me cough a little. My cottonmouth was unbearable and I had to force my tongue free from the roof of my mouth.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re up for work since it’s eight and the truck is still in the driveway.” It took a moment for the words to float from his deep, velvety voice into my brain and when they sank in, I gasped.

Hastily, I jumped to my feet, my head angry with my exertion, “Oh no! Thank you! I overslept! Man, I owe you one.”

Before I could hear his reply, I hung up the phone and flew up the stairs, racing to get to work on time. I worked an hour away at Florida Hospital South, in the human resources department, and had to be there by nine. Usually, I left by seven-thirty just in case there was traffic. Tardiness was not in my vocabulary, and the sheer thought of it sent me into a near panic attack.

My job, for the most part, was decent. I considered myself to be a paper pusher. Originally, I thought human resources would be an interesting job where I would get to help people. Now, I just considered it an easy way to pass time and pay the bills. I was bored throughout most of my day, doing tedious tasks, but everyone was cordial and mostly left me alone, which was perfect.

To calm myself from the traffic that I was cursing out loud at, I dialed Cali. She and I commuted at the same time every morning, working pretty much down the street from each other, and we sometimes caught up on gossip for the hour’s drive. I just had to be hopeful she would be available. She had been on a business trip for the last two weeks. Thankfully, after one short ring, Cali’s sugary, spunky voice came over the line. “Hey, Mags. How’s traffic for you this morning?”

I sighed and told her about my late night, and how lucky I was Walker woke me up.

“Well, I’m glad you had a good time. I’m fixing to head to the airport in an hour or so. Kyle had a late night last night so he’ll be off tonight when I get in. You’re off the hook.” I was thankful Cali’s husband was going to pick her up from the airport because I’d practically forgotten offering to play chauffeur.

“That’s great, I’m glad you’re finally coming home. I’ve missed you, Cal!” It would bring a little bit of relief to have her back in town. “I’m jealous you don’t have to work today. I’m hung-over as all hell!”

Cali giggled at my discomfort and mocked me a little before we ended our chat, as I pulled into the parking lot at work.

Kyle, Cali’s husband, was an Orange County Sheriff's Deputy. I had never cared for his arrogance, his vulgar comments, how he always accused Cali of cheating on him, or how selfish he seemed to be with Cali’s time, but she was head over heels enamored by him. Mostly, I think her affection came from how attractive Kyle was; he was Herculean. Perfect ice blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, very tall, overly toned muscles; everything Cali wanted. She always said in college that she needed to find a blonde haired, blue-eyed guy so they would have blonde haired, blue-eyed babies. She had natural strawberry blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and the perfect hint of olive in her skin tone, so her wish was probably going to come true.

I flew through the automatic doors to the hospital fifteen minutes after nine with a sigh of relief, and no one seemed to notice my lateness. The workday droned on, and all I could think about was how great the night before had been. Hanging out with all the people who were closest to me brought back the old, happy-go-lucky me that I missed so much. The only two people who were missing last night were my mother, who was old-fashioned and would have turned up her nose at my wild behavior, and Cali.

Even with how boring my workday had been, I dreaded it being over. I had grudgingly made dinner plans for that evening with my mother, to try a sushi place that had just opened a few blocks away from my house. I loved her to death and really appreciated everything she had done to help me recently, but being alone with her for an extended amount of time was not the most conducive move for our relationship. She nagged me about not moving on, and I totally blocked her out. We got under one another’s skin, plain and simple.

When my mom rang the doorbell thirty minutes late, I was just pulling my heels on. My mom was the exact opposite of me when it came to punctuality, and I eventually came to expect it. I opened the door, taking her into my arms for a long hug. On my drive home, I’d made a promise to myself to start being kinder to her, even if she pushed my buttons. My mom was doing her best; I had to keep telling myself that over and over to convince myself to be on good behavior.

“My word, you’re in a good mood honey.” Her smile spread quickly from ear to ear and the sight of it warmed me a little. She and I looked exactly alike. Long almost black hair, naturally curly, although I straightened mine every day, and she let her curls run wild. She and I were the same short five foot nothing with the same light brown, oval eyes. Our mouths and teeth were the only things that stopped me from being her clone; luckily, those genes were the only ones I got from my ugly, dirt bag father.

“We had a good party for Jim last night. I’m starting to realize what it means to be the old me again.” I smiled, hoping that was a good enough answer for my cheeriness, and took her hand as we walked to Randy’s truck.

As she started to go to the passenger’s side, my mother jumped right into sighing and badgering, as she turned up her nose at my favorite vehicle in the entire world. “I will never understand why you insist on driving this huge thing around. You have a perfectly good Mercedes in the garage.” I just rolled my eyes and let the diesel engine rumble gruffly, after letting it prime. She was right. I did well for myself, and with only me to support, my income plus Randy’s pension made my life more than comfortable, financially speaking. On a whim, right after Randy’s funeral, I treated myself to my dream car, and then refused to drive it.

I bit my lip and scanned the faded dash and steering wheel, taking in the comforting musty smell of happy memories. “I feel safer in this. You want the car, Mom?” My voice was dry and annoyed as I fought to maintain a cheerful expression.

She continued her ignorance of how her words cut into me and sustained her gaze out the window as she laughed to herself. “No honey, that’s sweet of you. My Prius is just fine.”

I shook off the pissed feelings that were starting to creep up, and tried to make small talk on the way to the restaurant with a name that neither one of us could pronounce.

We were shown to our table by a short, skinny man dressed in all black clothing that was three sizes too big for his small frame.

Before the host had chance to walk away, I asked him for two sake bombs, my butt not even hitting the cushion yet. He bowed politely and hurried off to fill my request. The restaurant was virtually empty, so service was quick. Before my mom had too much time to complain, the cool sake accompanied by two half glasses of beer were set on our table. Turning her nose up as high in the air as possible, my mother protested, “Honey, I can’t drink that.” The disdain in her voice was palpable, but I didn’t care one bit.

As her face started to scream with disgust, I laughed. “Mom, you are drinking this tonight! We’re celebrating me coming back from my darkest hour! Welcome to the old me that you didn’t witness when I was living hours away in college.” I gave her a wry wink and slid her shot glass and beer closer to her.

My mom set up her chop sticks begrudgingly the way I showed her, and we slammed our fists on the table chanting, “Sake! Sake! Sake Bomb!” and chugged like champs. Seeing the horrible face my mom made as she wiped her beer soaked chin, I decided one was enough torture for the night.

I rolled my eyes as my mom’s expression changed and her shoulders sagged, “Don’t worry Mom, I’ll spare you the anguish of another.” I chuckled and started to glance over the menu, looking up briefly. “Thanks for champing through that one.” She forced a polite smile and looked down at her menu as well.

When our server trotted back over, I ordered myself a beer, and my mom a glass of plum wine, along with all different kinds of rolls. Luckily, my mom and I had pretty much the same taste when it came to food, so we always shared when we went out together. Once I was done ordering, the server bowed, and scurried off into the kitchen.

“So Margret, is there anything new in your life? I hear you’re spending a lot of time with Walker Eastman.”

Her curious eyebrow raise crawled under my skin but I made myself shake it off, replying dryly, “Nothing new, and, yeah, Walker keeps me company. He’s just as banged up as I am.” Almost on cue, the server returned, setting the beer next to my hand. Hastily I grabbed it and drank half the bottle’s contents before looking at my mother’s grimace.

My mom took my hand. “Honey, you know that it’s okay to have feelings for someone else. Even if it is Randy’s best friend. Randy would want you to move on. Please honey, I want grandkids someday.”

The server returned again with perfect timing, our first round of gorgeously wrapped fish flesh being the only savior from the anger I was about to unleash. She had cut too deep that time. “Mother,” my words were low, but scathing, “that is out of line. Just. Stop!” My eyes bore into my mom’s with fury, while she tried to avoid my death stare.

“I’m sorry, honey. I just hate to see you like this. I know I don’t say the right things. It’s just difficult. Ever since your father left, I regret never trying to find someone else. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. That’s all.” Tears were starting to form in her eyes. She tried blinking them back, but a few escaped, rolling down her cheek. Her misguided tears only fueled my rage.

I gripped the edges of the table, trying to even my angry tone, my knuckles turning white while my pulse quickened. Slowly searching for words, my voice quivered and crackled, “This is different. Randy didn’t walk out on his family. He was fighting to get back here to start one.” I hunched in my seat, letting my body calm into my defeated state, letting my head fall in my hands. There was no way to fight the tears; they rushed like waterfalls down my cheeks and neck. Looking up again, slowly, I could see my words cut deep, but I could not stop there, I had to finally say my piece. “I know you were hurt when Dad left, but please, have some compassion for me.” My voice came out weak and pleading, completely crushed. My mother and I just don’t know how to get along.

After a few moments of silently crying and staring at one another, it was evident this evening was too broken to repair. I waved the server over. His once cheery face had faded into concern when he realized we were both crying.

Trying to glower at him, my words came babbling out before I had time to realize how hurtful they were, “Will you please wrap up all of our food? My mother has spoiled my appetite, and my evening.” He nodded quickly, taking our plates with him into the kitchen.

My mom was like a statue the entire time we waited for the server to return with our boxes of freshly prepared food that was probably going to spoil before we even got it home. With his head down, looking at the floor, the server set our wrapped up dinner onto the table and placed our bill next to it, then almost ran back into the safety of the kitchen. I laughed a little when my mom put her hand on the bill, snatching it out of her hand harshly. There was no way she was going to try to make this night better by treating me, and the fact that she was an awful tipper made me never want to let her pay at restaurants. I put an overly generous amount of cash into the black book, stood up and was out the door before my mother even had her purse in hand.

Once outside, my mom hurriedly trotted after me, trying to thank me for dinner, or the lack thereof, in one of her condescending tones. Stopping dead in my tracks, I spun on my heels, my lips primed and I seethed, “Don’t worry about it. It is gladly on me, Mother.”

My mom started to riddle an apology in a shaky voice, and I just held my hand up, shaking my head. There was no saving this moment and I really didn’t want to deal with her trying. I reached the driver’s side of the truck, climbed in and let the sound of the engine lull me into a calmer state. I left the doors locked for a few seconds, while I breathed in the musty carpeting, faded leather, and slight hint of air freshener. Once I had my moment, I unlocked the passenger’s side door, and gave a swift hand wave to coax my mother into the vehicle.

On the ride home, my mom attempted to talk to me, but I simply ignored her. Yes, it was childish, but better that than start in on her again, or worse, break down again. We pulled into the driveway and before I even turned the engine off, I snarled, “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but for now we are not on good terms, and you need to give me space. I love you but I need you to learn how to respect me and my grieving.”

Her eyes slowly met mine, tears still streaming down her rosy, plump cheeks, “Honey, just remember, I didn’t have the luxury to grieve when your dad left. I had a daughter to be strong for.” That was a low blow, and my temper flared. I gripped the steering wheel and started to hyperventilate, fighting for words that were not too harsh.

Before I could start screaming about how I had to take care of her for months while she skipped work and didn’t even feed her six-year-old, she was out of the truck, slamming the door. I cooked, cleaned, and got myself ready for school every day after my dad walked out. Every fiber of my body screamed and shuddered with pain, heartbreak and rage. I wished I was able to express all of my hurt from the terrible memories I had buried deep down, but I knew it would just hurt her more, and there was no point after all these years.

I slammed my open palms into the steering wheel, screaming a few more times, and then whipped out my cell. With trembling hands, I dialed Cali’s number. Her soft, sweet voice cooed into the phone, “Mags? You okay?”

Through sobs, I tried to explain, but all I could get out was, “I had a fucking awful night trying to play nice with my mom. Want to slam back some wine and toast to shitty mothers?” Cali’s mom was worse than mine, if that was even possible, and I was so glad she didn’t ask me to explain. Thankfully, she had gotten home from her trip already. I could hear her douche bag of a husband complaining that she was choosing me over him for the night, but she agreed to head over right away, yelling at him for being an insensitive jackass before hanging up the phone.