A Hue of Blu

Year Four/Week Five – Present

“Mom!” I called out, “I’m home!”

It was purely theatrical of me to yell that. I did it every single time I walked through the front door, fully knowing she was either passed out in her bedroom or too drunk to notice.

“Mother, I collected the mail,” I said, waving a grocery store catalogue and a credit card bill in the air. Again, all for the theatrics.

“What do I need to pay this time?” She stumbled out of the bathroom, her black hair a ratty mess. “I’m off today.”

She said it like I asked. I stopped asking a long time ago.

“Your MasterCard.” I noticed a bowl of soup next to the sink. Mom liked to place dishes there to make me aware of the fact it needed washing, just that she didn’t want to do it.

At least she ate today.

The back of her hand swiped her eyes as she took a swig of brown liquid from a Dasani bottle. “I paid it already.”

“Then maybe you should think about switching to e-bills instead of regular mail.” Like clockwork, I took the remaining lumps of soup and flushed it down the drain. “It’s better for the environment anyways.”

“Aren’t you noble,” she muttered, plopping down on the couch.

I just shrugged even though I knew she wasn’t looking. She never really looked at me, sort of just through me, and she was the only one I never demanded attention from.

I knew she’d never give it.

“I’m going out with Fawn later.”

Netflix was blasting, a reality T.V. show I’d never seen before. I’m surprised she even heard my voice.

“Enjoy.”

She never asked what I was doing, but I told her anyway. It made me feel like I actually had a parent to talk to.

“We may do cocaine off a phone case.” I placed the bowl in the dishwasher and ran it. “Or psychedelics.”

She didn’t respond to that.

“Heroin could be fun,” I added, sitting on the loveseat across from her.

She didn’t meet my eyes when she said, “Just don’t drink.”

And then she laughed. She laughed as if someone was tickling her ribs with a feather.

Five minutes later, she fell asleep and I watched her. I studied her angles, her sunken bone structure, the forehead creases that were stamped into her skin even in rest.

She’d been beautiful once, my mother. I wouldn’t say she’s terribly ugly now. It could be the poison rotting her from the inside, but her features were distorted beyond belief.

I had to wonder if I went down that same road, if I married an alcoholic, would I become one? Would I have children with one? Would those children succumb to the urges I couldn’t fight?

Did my mom want this life for me? For herself?

I glanced around the room. Mom was sleeping on the corduroy couch Dad left for us. Well, everything Dad left for us because he left us.

Just seven more months, I repeated like a fucking mantra. Seven more months and I’ll be gone.

A few hours later, I was painting my nails when Fawn walked into my room, shutting the door behind her.

“Nora’s asleep on the couch,” she said, placing her purse on the dresser.

“Yeah, I know.” I extended my hand out to admire the red manicure. “I left her there.”

“At least she’s not on the floor.”

At least.

“Still haven’t texted Jace?”

His name was like sludge on my tongue. “Jace has better things to do. Like police my life.”

She rolled her eyes, taking a dab of acetone on an angled brush and grabbing hold of my pointer. “You’re being dramatic.”

I let her clean my cuticles while she spoke.

“He called you out on the fact that you didn’t do your work. Why are you so mad?”

“Because I don’t like him talking to me like he knows me.”

“Blu, maybe he had a bad day.”

I ripped my hand away. “Why are you defending him?”

“I’m not, but you always make people out to be the villain if they’re not eternally nice to you.” She squeezed a pump of hand lotion into hers. “Not everyone’s out to get you.”

I let her work the solution onto my fingers, contemplating my thoughts. Without getting to know Jace, I would never understand his moods if he had been in one, let’s say. I’d never know if he was sad or happy or willing to talk or craving space and silence. I’d just assume. I always assumed.

“Should I invite Jace out tonight?” I asked, expecting a no, hoping for a yes.

She nodded repeatedly and handed me my phone. “Is that even a question?”

“God, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I opened my contacts and selected his name. “I’ve never texted him before.”

“He’s just another guy, Blu. Don’t think too much about it.”

7:03pm – Blu: Guess who?

7:09pm – Jace Boland: Spiderman??

I rolled my eyes and showed Fawn the text. I hated that she was smiling. I hated that I was holding one back.

7:12pm – Blu: Seriously?

7:13pm – Jace Boland: You told me to guess…

7: 15pm – Blu: You’re insufferable.

7:18pm – Jace Boland: Haha. What’s up Blu?

I don’t know why that gave me butterflies. The fact that he knew who it was right away made me think he was almost waiting for it. Our conflict from last week seemed resolved; no hard feelings. I liked that.

“He bounced back fast,” Fawn peered over my shoulder. “He definitely doesn’t hate you.”

My confidence came flooding back. “Who could ever hate me?”

7: 22pm – Blu: Come out with us tonight.

7:28pm – Jace Boland: Us?

7:29pm – Blu: My friend Fawn and I, come. Pls.

7:30pm – Jace Boland: Little short notice.

Disappointment found its way to my heart. I showed Fawn the text.

“Wait, he’s typing!” she exclaimed.

7:32pm – Jace Boland: Send me the addy. I’ll be there.