Page 19 of Enough
“That’s gross, Everly. Maybe you’re okay with our kids being stinky and doing their homework for them, but I’m not. Is this how nights go when I’m not around? The kids just do as they please and then go to school with greasy hair?”
I stare at him and seriously want to charge him and punch him in the face. I settle on, “Screw you, asshole!” and huff loudly down the stairs.
Fuck him and his words. I do the best I can. I wasn’t giving him the answers. I was trying to teach him. Well, maybe I told him the last one. I know I should have made him do it, buthe was so tired. And I’msotired. Maybe I should have let him fail the assignment, but I want him to do well in school. Should I have made him take a quick shower? Will he smell tomorrow? Will people say, “There’s that Haley kid. His mom does his homework for him and she doesn’t even care that his shirts are worn and he smells. Someone should call child welfare on that woman.”
I feel a tear slip over my lashes.I try. I try to be a good mom. Am I failing them? Is Mike right? Am I a lousy mother? Would they be better off if I wasn’t around to yell so much?
“Dad… you coming?” he bellows from his room.
“On my way. Don’t worry. Daddy will take care of you.”
Motherfucker.He’s never home, and the one day he is he becomes the hero. How dare he put me down in front of Kale! I know I yell. I know I lose my temper and I shouldn’t. I suck at being a mom. I yell too much. I’m not good at this parenting stuff. They deserve a better mom than me. I don’t deserve anything I have.
I begin to sob. It’s my ugly, I’m-tired-and-feel-worthless cry. It’s been happening more and more frequently lately. I stumble over to the couch, fully aware that I left the lunch stuff out and Roscoe still needs to be fed, but I need a moment.
That ache in my chest returns and it consumes me. I know I’m feeling sorry for myself, but it hurts and I need to cry. I wantmymom. She was always so patient. As I think of her, I imagine Mike and her shaking their heads at me. She’d be so disappointed in me. I’m nowhere near the mother she was.
As the thoughts permeate my brain, I cry harder. I gasp and stumble for breath as snot drips down my nose. I’m not a pretty crier. Shit, I’m not pretty at all. Maybe that’s why my husband doesn’t love me. I’m not good enough for him, for mykids, or for anyone.
I hear him on the stairs and I leap up quickly, running into the bathroom to blow my nose. He approaches the bathroom door and I slam it shut, holding a tissue to my face.
“Are you crying?” he asks.
“No,” I lie.
He seems to stand there for a moment before I hear him walk away. I hear the fridge open forcibly and a second later, a pop from the tab on a soda. I stay still for a few minutes.
“You left the lunchmeat out.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I know,” I shout back. I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. My eyes are red and my face is puffy. I vow to myself that tomorrow I will be better at everything. Tomorrow is a better, brighter place to be.
I FEEL A small push on my shoulder and strain my eyes to open them. It’s dark, and I’m asleep on the couch. I blink several times to focus and see Mike sitting on the edge next to me.
“Hey,” he says.
I jolt upright and attempt to focus my sleepy eyes on the microwave clock. It’s 4:45A.M.I turn back to him and see he’s fully dressed. “What’s wrong?” I ask in a panic.
“Nothing. I’m headed to work and I just wanted to say I’m sorry for last night. I was just really tired and I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. How about I try to come home early tonight? I’ll stop and pick up a pizza or something.”
I nod my head, both because I’m too tired to talk and because I’m in shock that he’s being kind.
“Okay,” he states with a small smile. He stands and grabs his keys and heads toward the garage door. After he’s gone, I try my best for the next hour to fall back asleep, but I can’t. I decide to get up and take a shower before I have to wake the kids. Even though I only slept four hours, there’s a glimmer of hope in this new day, and I’m relieved the last one is behind me.
“HOW ARE YOU in Walton’s again?” Gwen asks on the phone. “Weren’t you just there?”
“I live here. It’s my home away from home. Half the people who work here know me by name.”
Gwen laughs. “You can talk to anyone. I wish I could do that.”
“Oh please, Gwen. You don’t have to open your mouth. People like you the minute you smile. I, however, am very good at inserting my foot in mine.”
“Did you tell Mike you’re going back to school?”
I sigh. “It’s a tricky situation. I can’t justtellhim. Somehow, I need to try to make it come across as his idea. I’ve been down this road before with him. He seemed like he might be in a good mood today, so maybe I’ll talk with him tonight.”
“Did you call the school? I think Mrs. Easton is still the head of the department. I bet she remembers you. I think you might even qualify for some type of financial aid.”
“Yeah, I called them,” I say as I press my cell to my shoulder and attempt to use both my hands to put two gallons of milk into my cart. I retrieve the slipping phone from myshoulder and stop in the dairy section. It’s hard to shop and talk on the phone at the same time. “I may have to meet with her to review my transcripts. I can’t believe she’s still the chair of the nursing school. I’d almost have to start over. I’d have to take double the course load and go for a two-year accelerated program. I’m scared to death but also really, really excited. I hope I can do this.”
