Page 89 of The Revenge

The other cabinets are almost as empty. The few plates we have are probably buried under all the trash, and the few cans are already out of date. The refrigerator has a handful of expired items, but otherwise, there’s not much rotting away in there.

I leave the apartment and then head down the street to the small grocery store. There's still a little bit of money in my account from what I earned working at the dining hall, and I use it to buy some much needed cleaning products and groceries.

For a couple of hours, I work on clearing out all of the trash and rotting food and then clean the kitchen as my mom sleeps. The sound of clinking glasses alerts me to her waking, and I headinto the living room to find her sitting upright on the couch, her head between her hands.

“Hi, Mom.” I keep my voice just above a whisper, so I don’t startle her.

She looks up at me, tilting her head. “Tori? Why is your hair blue?”

Now that she’s sitting upright, I can see how she hasn’t been taking care of herself. Her clothes are dirty, and it doesn’t look like she’s showered in a few days. She’s lost weight; her face looks thin.

It took a couple of months after moving into this apartment before my mom started to drink a couple of bottles of wine a week. She said it helped her sleep. Then it was a bottle every other day.

I’d left her knowing what she was doing, but kept telling myself it would be okay because I was going to bring Cole back to her. Said enough, those words had drowned out my conscience, but now there was nothing to hold back the waves of guilt and disappointment in myself.

“Are you hungry, Mom? I can make you something to eat?” I ask, softly.

“I haven’t had a chance to buy anything.” She groans and clutches her head. “I need a drink. What did you do with my drink?”

Aside from a few bottles with a bit of liquid in the bottom of them, most of them were empty. She slept through me walking around the apartment, collecting them. Three trash bags had joined the two with the other trash I removed and took downstairs to the dumpster which was emptied since I came back.

Biting my lip, I refrain from saying anything.

This is as much my fault as it is anyone else’s. I left her here, and she only did what she thought she needed to in order to get through the day.

“Mom, there’s some hot water left. Do you want to take a shower while I find some ibuprofen? It might make you feel better.” Hungover or still drunk, I can’t tell, but I’m hoping she’s sober enough to accept this alternative.

She holds her hand out.

The painkillers I bought earlier are still in the bag in the kitchen. I quickly grab a couple, along with a large glass of water, and then take them to her.

Mom takes the pills with a few sips of water, then she allows me to help her to her feet.

XXXV

Tori

Our bathroom is barely big enough to fit two people in it unless one is in the shower. I didn’t have a chance to check the rest of the apartment before my mom woke up, and the bathroom is also in need of cleaning, but as I don’t want her to get distracted, I do enough to rinse out the bottom of the shower and get the water running warm.

While she showers, I add the clothes she’s been wearing to a pile outside the bathroom door with the other dirty clothes and towels to take to the laundromat later.

Once I’m certain my mom isn’t going to fall over, I head into her bedroom to find some clean clothes. The sight of her room nearly makes me burst into tears.

The mattress is exposed and stained, the covers and pillows are scattered across the floor. Clothes are spilling out from the small closet, and all the drawers are open. The jewelry box that had once been full of the items she’d hidden from the repo guys is empty. I quickly sort through the clothes littered across the room, tossing the dirty items into the growing laundry pile, while gathering up an armful for her to change into.

On a whim, I step out and go into my bedroom. Calling this room a bedroom seems generous. It fits a single bunkbed with a desk and drawers below it. The free-standing closet only fitsbecause it almost completely covers the window. Like my mom’s room, it looks like someone has ransacked it.

The few items of value I have went to college with me, so I’m not worried about anything being missing. It’s just becoming clear how bad my mom has been.

From now on, I need to focus on her. I’m not sure how to help her. I doubt Medicaid covers rehab.

But before I do that, there’s still something else I need to do.

I pull my phone out of my pocket. The battery is already nearly dead, but the battery life isn’t what stops me from calling Payne. The conversation we need to have would be better in person.

Tori:It’s done. Do you have time to meet this evening?

Payne:Really? Are you OK? Tell me where and when, and I’ll be there.

---