Family, Fiction, Health and wellbeing, Melbourne, Parenting, Writing

Kicked Out

‘It’s the lies! I can’t take it anymore!’

Mum’s face is bright red. Spit flies out of her mouth. She’s breathless, panting as though she’s run five kms. Geez, looks like I’ve really done it this time.

‘After you clean up your room, you can get out.’

‘What do you mean?

‘Exactly as it sounds, Lisa. Clean your room. Then leave.’

‘But Mum!’

‘But nothing. I told you the last time you lied about the drugs that I’d throw you out. And here we are, not two weeks later.’ She holds up the zip lock bag of marijuana and waves it accusingly in my face. I dare not steal a peek around the room to see if she’s found the neatly folded alfoil sachet of cocaine. Nah, she can’t have found it. She’d be ballistic if she had.

‘Where will I go?’ My question is only designed to instil guilt into Mum. I know where I’ll go. Lacey’s couch for a week or two, then Paul will always let me lie low with him. I’m not afraid of roughing it on the streets either.

‘I don’t care. Just get out. Don’t even think about coming back until you’re clean.’ Her face is more of a pinkish-red now and she’s not puffing anymore.

She leaves the room, slamming the door behind her. I can hear her in the kitchen, making coffee. Hmm, she talks about my drugs. She’s addicted to shit, too, only difference is her vices are legal. Anyway, she’s thrown me out before and taken me back. Picked me up from the gutter five years ago, and helped me into rehab. She’ll do it again. I know it. Until then, I’ll survive.

I throw a few belongings into an old gym bag. Then I leave, without cleaning my room. That’ll piss her off.

Photo by GRAS GRÜN on Unsplash

14 thoughts on “Kicked Out”

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