Poison

“Hazel, fill me up another one of these while you’re up, will ya?”

Mom’s hand swayed back and forth as she held out her silver shot glass to me. The glassy look in her eyes let me know that all hopes of trying to have a conversation with her was gone. The night was finished, and I’ll be left alone to my own thoughts as she slowly slips out of consciousness in her favorite chair. She seemed to be placated there these days.

Mom has been an alcoholic for as long as I can remember. It’s hard to remember her without a drink in her hand. When I was a kid it was a few beers after work. Then throughout my middle school and high school years, it was several vodka screwdrivers with pineapple juice a night. And now her drink of choice is a kind of whisky. The kind you’d see at a raging high school house party, or a sorority blow-out. A thick and sticky, sweet brown syrup laced with poison which had enslaved my mother. And the absolute only way she’ll take it is either with her shot glass or straight from the bottle. She’s above mixing her drinks now.

I reluctantly grabbed the shot glass from her quivering hand. I know that if I don’t pour her another shot, she’d just lash out at me with her manipulative mind games. She has a way of cracking into my brain; her words coating it until it’s all I can manage to think about. I’ve become accustomed to it, but I just didn’t feel like dealing with it tonight. I pulled the heavy, frosted handle out of the freezer. I set it on the counter and squinted at its red and yellow label.

35 percent alcohol volume, I thought. 65 percent sugary bullshit. No wonder her stomach stays fucked up.

“What’s taking so long in there?”

“Here,” I said as I shoved the glass in her hand. I sat back down in my chair next to hers and continued to stare blankly at the same sitcom she watched everyday. Every night it’s like this. She gets home from work, immediately dives into the bottle, turns on the same sitcom, and eventually passes out in her chair. It’s a routine I’ve come to resent. Sure, she’ll attempt to hold a conversation with me, but it’s always the same one as the day before. Day in and day out, it’s all a drunken, monotonous blur. Everyone tells me that I should get out, but I just don’t have the money. Life didn’t quite turn out the way I had planned. Never in my life did I think I’d still be living with my mom at 24, but here I am. Jaded and burnt out.

“Why are you in such a mood tonight? Is it about Colton?” she asked while squinting at me. I’ve been with Colton for four years, and every time I’m in a mood she assumes it’s because of him.

“No, Mom. Colton and I are fine.” I sighed and gazed at the old clock on the wall. He should be here any minute with the pizza. Thank Christ I’ll have a break from all of this riveting action. The clock often gave me solace during the long hours I’d stay awake after Mom passed out. Its slow and meticulous ticking reminds me that time is passing, and soon the morning sun will be seeping through the blinds and Mom will be sober again. She’ll be my mom again if only for a little while.

“Is he coming over tonight?”

“Yeah he’s bringing a pizza over for dinner, remember?” I answered, knowing that I just told her this an hour ago.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“You can have a couple of slices if you want.” This is an empty offer. I know good and well she won’t eat a slice. She never eats dinner. Mom’s idea of dinner is a cup of strawberry ice cream mixed in with just a little bit of milk. Why ruin a buzz with a slice of pizza?

“I don’t want any of that. All you get is cheese or pepperoni. Why don’t you get a real pizza with mushrooms and olives and other shit on it?”

“I don’t like that kind of pizza, Mom,” I said as I clenched my fingers around my phone, “you wouldn’t eat any of it anyway.”

She released the foot rest to her chair and pulled her blanket up to her chin. There’s no way she’s going to make it to her bed tonight. Once she pulls up the blanket, she’s gone for the night. So much for spending any time with Colton.

I’ve truly come to resent her. I resent her for divorcing my dad when I was five, and marrying another man without telling me; another alcoholic who just has a craving for fucking things up. I resent her for having a split personality while she’s drunk. How nothing I do is ever enough, although I’m the one who cleans up after she vomits, or helps her up after she drunkenly trips over her own feet. I resent her for kicking me out of the house after I told her I wanted to buy brownie mix at the grocery store, and then not remembering it the next day. I resent her for threatening me with a pair of meat scissors back when I was in high school over an argument that didn’t matter. I resent her for always sitting in this prison of a house. Everywhere I turn, she’s there. Just sitting in that old, fucking chair. Sipping away at her downfall.

*****

My thoughts vanished as the door unlocked and my only sliver of hope strolled through the front door. And he was holding our pizza.

“Hey babe,” Colton said as he set the pizza on the counter and slid off his jacket. I quickly got out of the chair and joined him in the kitchen.

“She’s out again, huh?” he asked, eyeing Mom slumped down in the chair.

“Yep. Doesn’t look like we’ll be watching a movie tonight.”

He rolled his eyes. Just then, Mom awoke from her stupor and lifted her head to look at Colton.

“Hey Colt. Oh you brought a pizza?”

“Hey Mrs. Melbourne, and yeah I did. I told Hazel I’d bring one over after she got off work.”

“I already told her this hours ago,” I whispered to Colton.

“Just try to relax,” he said, “I don’t want to sit through another argument between you two. It makes me really uncomfortable.”

“So I’m just supposed to walk on egg shells around her just because she’s drunk? I can’t let her talk to me the way she does when she gets like this.” I slapped a slice down on my plate.

“I know, but you just have to ignore her. Most of the time you make it worse by arguing back with her. It what she wants.”

“It’s just not fair,” I said as I shook oregano onto my pizza, “she’s drunk all the time and I have to cater to her.”

“If you guys start arguing, then I’m going to leave. I’m sorry Haze, but I’m just not dealing with it.”

We sat down at the table with our pizza on paper plates. I get angry when Colton says things like that. I guess he has a right to feel that way; I can’t imagine being in his shoes. Sometimes Colton will end up in the middle of a spitfire argument between me and my mom. She’s said some nasty things to him in the past, but when she’s sober, she calls him “the son she never had.” I wouldn’t want to deal with it either. I’m surprised he still comes over.

Mom was oddly quiet as we were finishing up our dinner. Usually she was sputtering out questions about what was happening on TV, but she was sitting quietly just staring off. Colton got up to throw his plate away, and sat down in the rocking chair across the living room. I decided to have an extra slice since I hadn’t had time to eat before I went to work. I was left alone at the table when I heard Mom stumble against the kitchen counter. I didn’t know she had gotten up, but I knew it was her. I didn’t bother to turn around since it was regular behavior for her to stumble around.

Instead I kept eating and said, “Mom, you okay?”

No answer.

I turned around to see her staring down at the counter, and her arms and legs shaking uncontrollably.

My heart made a beeline for my throat, and I immediately felt a sense of doom overtake me. Was she having a stroke?

“Mom! Are you okay?” I said louder, a tinge of shakiness entering my voice.

Still no answer. She slowly slid down onto the floor against the stove, her arms and legs still jerking as if they had detached from her body. Her head was rocking back and forth, and she stared blankly into space. Her mouth was slightly open and her eyes didn’t blink.

I dropped my slice, and I ran to her. I screamed in her face, “Mom! MOM! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

I was face to face with her, but she couldn’t see me. She couldn’t hear my screams of panic and desperation. She wasn’t there. Dread filled every ounce of me as I yelled for Colton to dial 911 and ran to wake my stepdad. As I turned to run down the hallway, my stepdad was already there. He must have heard me yelling. I had tunnel vision, and I longed for the moments when time passed so slowly on that old clock. I knew I was screaming, but I couldn’t hear the words.

“Don’t call 911!” I heard my stepdad croak at Colton, who had his phone in his hand ready to dial.

I whirled around to see that he had gotten Mom off of the floor, and he was helping her stand. I was stunned. She started walking and talking- like it never happened.

“You need to get your ass to bed, now! You have scared Hazel to death!” he snapped at her.

“I’m fine! I just fell! I promise I’m fine!”

“No, you’ve had enough. And you’re going to bed. I can’t believe you let this happen again.” He helped her down the hall, into their room, and shut the door. I stood in the kitchen frozen-trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. My scattered thoughts were interrupted when Colton placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Hazel…what happened?”

It was then that I realized he hadn’t been in the kitchen when it happened. He stayed in the living room the entire time. I was the only one who saw her in that state. Her lifeless eyes not able to see me, her face in the expression of a corpse. I was the only one.

“I…I think she had a seizure,” I said quietly.

“Are you sure that’s what it was?”

That’s when the red hot anger washed over me. My fists clenched and my heart began to pound.

“Why didn’t you call 911 when I told you to?” I snapped.

“David told me not to! I figured he knew what was going on and didn’t think it was serious enough to call 911! He picked her up off the floor and took her to their room.”

I was seething through my skin.

“She was having a fucking seizure, Colton! I know what I saw! You didn’t see her, and David didn’t see her. I was the ONLY one who saw her! I was the only one…” Hot, salty tears fell down my cheeks. Colton drew me into him as I began to sob.

“Her drinking has got to stop,” I said into his chest.

Suddenly, David came furiously into the kitchen. I broke free from Colton to try to make David understand.

“David! David, she was having a seizure! I saw her! I was screaming at her and she couldn’t see or hear me! We have to call 911! You didn’t see her, but I did! She wasn’t fucking there!” I pleaded with him, but he ignored me as he jerked open the freezer and snatched Mom’s whisky.

He shook it in the air and said, “It’s all because of this! It’s all because of this shit right here. You can’t drink straight liquor everyday and expect to be fine. I’m so sick of this shit.”

“This has to stop, David. She has to get some help!” I kept pleading but to no avail.

“She’s a grown-ass woman. I can’t make her do shit.” He pushed the whisky back into the freezer and slammed the door. Then he made his way back to their room and shut the door.

Why is he taking this so nonchalantly? Why is everyone taking this so nonchalantly?

I turned to Colton and said, “Why is no one taking this seriously? My mom just had a seizure right there in the kitchen floor and no one seems to give a shit!”

“Hazel, I am taking it seriously, but I don’t know what you want me to do. She went to bed and she seems okay now.”

“No, David didn’t want us to call 911 because he’s just as wasted as she is! He was off of work today, so you know he knocked back at least eighteen beers.” I began to clean up the trash from our dinner just to keep myself from exploding. I didn’t know what to think. I felt like I was the only sane person in the house.

I finished cleaning up the trash and sat back down in my chair. Colton was back in his chair across the living room. I looked over at Mom’s empty seat, and I couldn’t stop seeing her in my mind. I kept replaying it over and over, and I couldn’t stop. Where was she when she couldn’t see or hear me? I had turned the off the light in the kitchen, but I was too afraid to go in there. I was terrified that I would see her writhing again on the floor. It’s like when I was a kid and I’d watch a horror movie and couldn’t fall asleep afterwards. Except this is real life.

“Hazel…come here. I want to talk to you for a minute.” I nearly jumped out of my seat at the sound of her voice-tired, but a little more sober than before.

I watched her carefully walk down the hall. She had changed into her tattered green robe. I couldn’t look directly at her face because all I saw was her lifeless expression. I walked shakily to her, and the two of us went into my room and closed the door. She was silent for a moment as she positioned herself onto the bed. She gazed up at the ceiling as if the words she was looking for were just going to fall into her mouth.

“ I was really scared, Mom,” I said weakly.

“I know you were, and I’m sor…”

“I watched you staring at the wall when I was screaming at you. But you didn’t hear me. You couldn’t see me. Your arms and legs were shaking…you weren’t there, Mom. You had a seizure.” My voice quivered more each time I had to say it out loud. A tear rolled down my mom’s cheek.

She took a sharp breath and said, “I have to confess something.” She hesitated while wiping her cheek. “This has happened to me before.”

My eyes were wide as I tried to process this new information. How could she just not tell me this? How long was she going to let it go on?

“I had two of them in September, and David was there for both of them. I didn’t realize they were seizures until tonight though.”

“This has been going on for four months and you didn’t tell me? Why would you not tell me? I’m your daughter! What did you think they were, Mom?” I looked her straight in the eyes, begging for some kind of reasonable answer.

“I-I thought they were blackouts.”

“Blackouts? Mom, what’s happening to you doesn’t happen during a blackout. This has got to stop! Mom…you have a drinking problem. Look at what it’s doing to you.”

She was sobbing now. She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve like a child.

“I know. I know I have a problem. I didn’t want you to worry. I promise I’ll stop it all the day after tomorrow.”

“I’ll pour it all out right now. You have to get help, and I don’t know how to help you on my own.”

“No! Just let me finish the rest of it tomorrow, and I promise you Hazel, I’ll stop.”

“What if it happens again? We don’t know when or where this could happen! What if you’re driving, or what if no one’s home? What if you hit your head?”

She cut me off. “Hazel, I’m fine now. See?” She put on her best fake smile. “I’m okay. I promise I’ll stop.”

She pulled me into an embrace-signaling the end of the conversation. “I’m so sorry,” She whispered into my ear. She then told me that she was going to bed, and again, I was left with my racing thoughts.

*****

For my entire life, one of my biggest fears is ending up just like her. Will I, too, one day be a slave to this debilitating disease? Will my only excitement be to look forward to my drink at the end of the day? Will I be jerking on the floor lost in some netherworld between here and somewhere else? Will I lie to my own daughter by promising her to stop? Is it all just one fucked up cycle? I had spent years resenting her and being angry with her, but tonight, I thought I was going to lose her forever. Tonight I realized that it’s not up to her anymore.

Colton broke my thoughts. “You want me to go outside and get it?”

I suddenly remembered what he was talking about. I had completely forgotten.

“Should we really do this after all that’s happened tonight? Wouldn’t it just be… really wrong?”

“What happened to your mom has nothing to do with it. We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I already bought it.”

I contemplated for a moment- wondering if I would be doing my mom an injustice.

“So?” Colton asked.

“Fine, but only because you already bought it.”

He went outside and came back in a second. He set it on the kitchen counter, and I hesitated to walk in. I looked at its white label as Colton unscrewed the cork. 12 percent alcohol and 88 percent bullshit. I then poured myself a glass of the red, sweet poison and sat down in my chair.