A mother's love

Jordan was sleeping soundly in her bed and she heard the familiar commotion of her mother coming home from the bar. You would think that after years of having to hear this woman obnoxiously make her presence known, every Friday night, to her sleeping children Jordan would become more of a heavy sleeper. However, nowadays her slumber was often cut short by either her mother coming into the house or her sister waking her up to complain about their mother’s loud arrival. Today she was not only awakened from the sound of her mother stomping through the front door but also her murmuring obscenities to herself and slamming cupboard doors searching for alcohol.

Jordan climbed out of bed and mentally prepared herself to be less abrasive and she usually was during her interactions with her mother. A common occurrence during these interactions was that a simple conversation turned into a heated and aggressive argument. Usually, by the end, her mother lengthily screams all the reasons why it was Jordan’s fault the argument started and how she could do better to a kinder human being overall. Identifying her mother's inability to take accountability for her own part in their yelling matches, she was forced to only look at what she can do better to prevent them next time. She has found that if she does keep a kind and respectful demeanor - even when she is woken up at 4 o'clock in the morning - then the conversation might go smoothly.

She is thankful when she walks by her sister's twin bed, located next to Jordan's bed, that she is still asleep. She walks out of their room and closes the door quietly and walks down the hall to the kitchen. She is met with the common sight of her mother nursing a bottle of vodka at the dining room table. Jordan asks in the most polite and obedient voice she could muster “Hey, can you please quiet down a little? We are trying to sleep.”

“Oh,” her mother says in a sarcastically confused voice as she finishes her sip of alcohol before she continues. “Am I being an inconvenience in my own home? Jordan, tomorrow is Saturday, and I worked a long week. Let me live. It’s not like you two have school tomorrow”

“Actually I have work on Saturday and even before I go to that I have to wake Jocelyn and get her ready to be dropped off at aunt Marie's by 9.” She reframes from elaborating that the reason she doesn't leave her sister at home on Saturday mornings is so she doesn't have to spend the day alone with their hungover mother.

“So you and Jocelyn are woken up for 5 minutes, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“I just don't want to be woken up at 4 AM. Shouldn’t that be enough?” Jordan can hear that there is malice leaking from her tone but she’s too irritated to care.

"Oh, so I'm a bad guy now for just enjoying myself?!"

“I didn't-” she cuts herself off exasperated. This is going nowhere. She turns around and walks away to her room with a courteous “Nevermind mom, goodnight.”

“Oh have fun going and writing about this in that stupid little black book of yours.” her mom says loud enough so that Jordan can hear from down the hall.

Jordan really wants to go to bed. She really does. But she can't get over what she's just heard. She needs to know if it's true and that need drives her to walk back to the kitchen and ask “What?”

“That dumb little angst journal or whatever you call it. I mean I thought you were dramatic before but hell, you write yourself like you're the perfect main character and I'm some horrible monster. A monster you forget to mention feeds you and clothes you and…”

Jordan interrupts her and yells “You went through my journal? You went through my room?!”

“No, I went through my room that I allow you ad your sister to live in.” says her mother.

She’s genuinely surprised by her own shock. I mean her mom’s right. The way she writes her in her journal, you would never put it past that woman to go through her room. But in all honesty, she knows that she exaggerates in her journal. She knows that she always paints herself as the victim even in situations where she starts the fight. But that's the point of her journal. To let out her emotions through the hyperbolic rendition of her interactions with her mother. That little black book was her safe place to express your emotions however she wanted. However dramatic, however victimized, however overdone. It's her outlet - her only outlet - to vent. And her mom just took that away from her. She took it away from her and didn't even care. So now she can honestly say that she officially says, dryly, “I’m done”.

“You're done?” her mother questions. And Jordan lets it out. All her feelings that she has pent up in her. That for years she could only let out into her journal. She lets it all out.

“I'm done. I'm done with you leeching off' of me. I'm done with you trying to take away my happiness. And I'm done being in this house while you try make me as broken and pathetic as are!”

“Oh F’ off!” She gets up with her bottle in her hand and screams at Jordan.

Jordan is again surprised but her own shock at her mother's vulgar language towards her but she continues. “I'm done. I'm going to go to university and leave you here to wallow in the sadness that is your pathetic life. I'm only going to think of this god-forsaken hell hole when I think Jocelyn, while I hope to god she turns out nothing like you. Because I hate you. I hate you and the moment I leave I will not spend another moment thinking about you! I'm going to take the money grandma left me and I‘m gonna go away for- “

She's interrupted by her mother saying “Your grandmother didn't leave you anything.” In a voice filled with venom.

“Yes, she did,” Jordan says matter of factly.

“No. She. Didn't.” It’s hard to identify when her mom is being genuine. When she's telling the truth or just being petty or vengeful. But under all the malice in her voice, Jordan can tell.

“What?”

Her mother sits back down in her chair and starts to explain “That job you thought I quit because you thought, I thought it was too hard. Yeah, I broke my arm while I was on the clock. They offered me $20,000 so I wouldn’t sue. And I really wanted to sue. But lawyers cost money and hearings take time so for you and your sister I chose to take the settlement and get a new job. And I put that $20,000 away for you to go to university. As a surprise. But then last year you started letting out all this anger towards me. Me! The woman who raised you, who fed, who cared for you your entire life. When I realized how much you resented me I didn't spend the money I saved for you or take it out and do something else with it. I did the responsible thing, the right thing, because I'm a good mother.” If Jordan wasn't so upset at that moment she probably would have noticed short-lived tears in her mother's eyes as she paused. But as quick as the genuine vulnerability came it went and she continued.

“I lied to you and told you your grandmother left it to you 2 months ago when she died. Because I knew that all this hatred for me would make you not take that money. Because you are spiteful and spoiled and horrible. So because I am such a great mother I told you your grandmother left it to you. Because I love you. Not because of anything that you do but despite how horrible you are.” Now with every word she says she walks closer to Jordan who is crying harder than she ever has.

“Despite your crude and sarcastic personality, your insipid narcissism, your know it all attitude. Despite me knowing they are going to spend half the time at this damn university partying and being idiotic. Probably being taken advantage of by any boy who’s even slightly nice to you. Despite the fact that you're so dumb that you might literally die the first time you leave home. Despite the fact that no matter what mistakes you make I know you're going to find a way to blame everything on me. On how I raised you. On how I am. On how I love you. Despite all of that I still left this to you. I left it for you in a way that you would take it without question. That's how great I am.”

Her mother eerily laughs as she sees that her words have left her daughter petrified in her sadness. Proving her point about her dramatic nature. Her mother turns back toward the table, takes one final swig of her vodka, and puts it down. As turns back around and walks toward her room for the night, she looks at her daughter. The daughter that stands in front of her with a tear-stained face even though she so confidently called her leech mere seconds ago.

She looks at her and whispers in her ear, “But now you get to spend every single day living out your dream on my dime. Depending on your broken pathetic mother. And every day I’m going to remind you of that" and finally she spits out “Because now I'm done.”