Chapter 5
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Zalantha
I stood behind Lyra as she waited outside her mom”s house. It was down a narrow path and appeared tatty, its peeling paint revealing years of neglect. The gray sky looming overhead seemed to reflect the somber mood.
Lyra looked on edge; her hands were shaking, and she was breathing fast. She was in a panic, and I wasn”t surprised, especially after that ordeal with Moana.
I was so glad I had been there. If I hadn”t caught the crutch as it flew towards Lyra”s back or managed to push Moana”s hand down as she gripped that bottle of wine, Lyra could have been injured.
In those moments of crisis, a surge of euphoria enveloped me as I played a crucial role in preventing potential harm. I wondered whether Lyra, in her struggles with that dreaded drink, would ever comprehend the true nature of my existence and the unconventional aid I wanted to provide.
I moved closer and caught a whiff of her sweet scent. She looked stunning in those jeans, snug around her legs and tight backside. I wondered how she would react when she saw me in all my glory and whether she would feel a mutual attraction towards a being from another planet.
”Okay, you got this,” she said, sliding her key in the door. She took a deep breath and opened up. ”Mom, where are you?”
”In the lounge,” Janice called out.
I followed Lyra down the hall. The place seemed organized, with coats neatly hung up, but an odd stale scent lingered in the air. As we approached the living room, I spotted several photo frames on the wall, each capturing moments with Lyra. The images piqued my intrigue, and I wondered about her youth.
”Mom, what the hell have you done?” cried Lyra, rushing over.
”I tripped over the cat,” said Janice, wincing in pain as she reached for her ankle.
She was a frail woman in her late 60”s. The strands of her graying hair hinted at the passage of time, and her appearance suggested a certain fragility.
As Lyra dropped to the floor next to her, I couldn”t help but notice the weariness etched on Janice”s face. Lyra glanced at the half-empty bottle of whiskey and sighed, then grimaced, no doubt from the stale smell of alcohol.
”Let”s try to get you up, and I”ll call an ambulance.”
”No, I”ll manage,” said Janice as she tried to get up. ”Ow, that hurts.”
Lyra managed to get her up and sit her in an armchair. Then she crouched down and examined her injury. As she took off her sock, her mom”s ballooned ankle popped out.
”Oh, God,” said Lyra. ”We need to get you to the hospital.”
”No,” shouted Janice. ”I”m not going to the damn death trap. I hate that place.”
The fear in Janice”s eyes spoke volumes, and it wasn”t hard to deduce why hospitals held such terror for her. The loss of her husband to cancer must have left scars that lingered, the memories of illness, and ultimately, the inevitability of death.
”I know,” said Lyra, sighing. ”I do too, but you have to go; you might need to get it put in plaster.”
”I”ll manage.”
”How did you trip over Fluffy, anyway?”
”I just did. I think I was looking at my cell like you do, and the cheeky mini tiger ran out of nowhere.”
Lyra stood up and put her hands on her hips.
”Look, I know you don”t want to go back there; there are a lot of memories for me as well, but sometimes you need help.”
”I”ll be fine. Just get me some Advil, and I”ll rest it up.”
”Mom!”
Lyra gazed down at Janice and tapped her foot on the floor.
”I”m. Not. Going.”
”Fine. I”ll get you some Advil and water,” Lyra said, storming off to the kitchen.
Part of me wanted to follow, but I”m glad I stayed to watch Janice. Pity curdled in my stomach as she glanced at the glass of whiskey. Miraculously, she leaned over, grabbed the glass, and took a hefty sip. Then she placed the glass back and slid into the chair, her eyes glazing over.
”Here we go,” said Lyra, pacing back in with a glass of water. ”Take two for now.”
”Thanks,” said Janice, reaching out with her shaky hand.
Lyra watched with suspicion as Janice popped the Avril in her mouth and downed some water.
”Did you just have a drink?” asked Lyra, sniffing the air.
”Yeah, some water.”
”No, not that,” she said, picking up the empty glass. ”There was a shot of whiskey in there a second ago.”
”Oh, I think I saw Fluffy taking a sip.”
”Mom, this isn”t a joke. Why the hell are you drinking when you”ve just fallen and twisted your ankle?”
”I don”t know, perhaps to numb the pain.”
”Don”t do that,” said Lyra.
”What?”
”You know what, that was Dad”s trick, using booze to deal with his suffering. It doesn”t work.”
”No, it doesn”t, but at least it takes the edge off. Anyway, it”s just one drink. Everyone can have one drink, can”t they?”
”Not at 11 am.”
”You can”t tell me what to do. Besides, maybe I need to drink a shot of whiskey in the morning. Maybe it helps me feel closer to your father.”
”Uh-huh,” said Lyra, nodding in pity.
She sat down on the sofa and put her hands on her head. Janice shuffled in the armchair, appearing slightly guilty after her outburst.
”I”m sorry,” she said, her eyes going misty.
Lyra sat back, her arms folded.
”Mom, you can”t go down this road.”
”What road?”
”The road of despair. I won”t let you do this to yourself. I watched Dad die from it; I can”t let you do it too.”
”All of us need to go one day; I may as well enjoy myself.”
”But this is not enjoying yourself, can”t you see?”
”What would you know? You”re young, free, and single. You have your whole life still ahead of you. I”m old, a widow, and there”s nothing left for me anymore.”
”Oh, Mom, that”s not true,” said Lyra, placing her hand on Janice”s knee. ”You have your friends, Fluffy and me.”
”Yeah, but I”m alone at night. That”s why I drink, to take the loneliness away. It”s my only companion now.”
Lyra sighed, and a blast of worry erupted in my chest. My goodness, Janice was so deep in the trap.
Lyra glanced at a picture of her and her father on the beach. He was in his early thirties, young and in good shape. Lyra was barely ten. That must have been hard for her, seeing her father change so drastically thanks to some poisonous liquid.
”I”ll make you some food,” said Lyra, springing up.
”Thanks, a ham and cheese sandwich would be nice.”
Lyra dashed off to the kitchen. This time, I followed behind, but I soon wished I hadn”t. As Lyra made the ham and cheese sandwich, she seemed on edge, her hands trembling. Once she”d finished making her mom”s snack, she got even more agitated, as if she was trying to control something.
I wished I could have appeared to distract her, but it wasn”t the right time.
When Lyra stepped toward the fridge, panic erupted in my chest.
No, don”t, I wanted to cry as she grabbed a can of Coke.
Then she shuffled along to another cupboard, and my heart sank.
She took a bottle of gin and unscrewed the top. The sound of the can opening and the liquid pouring into the glass made me shiver uneasily, and her subsequent gulp echoed in my mind.
Observing her drink so desperately formed a pit in my stomach. What was wrong with her, and why was she resorting to this? A complex mix of sadness, unhappiness, and relief consumed me. I was so glad I”d arrived on Earth in time to help her before things spiraled further down the slippery slope.
She picked up the sandwich, took it to her mom, and handed it over.
”Oh, thanks, Lyra. You”re a star.”
”Get that down you. I”ll get some ice and bandages.”
While Janice munched away, Lyra dashed upstairs for some bandages and then went back to the kitchen for some ice. I was half expecting her to drink some more, but she refrained.
”If you”re not going to the hospital, then at least keep it elevated,” she said, lifting her leg gently and placing it on a footrest. ”The swelling needs to come down. I have to go to work, so promise you”ll call me if it worsens. I”ll pop by at the end of the day.”
”I will, and thanks, Lyra. I know this is hard for you, too.”
”It”s fine,” she said. ”Just stay off the whiskey, please.”
”Oh, I can”t promise that.”
”No, I don”t suppose you can.”
”Don”t you worry about your old mom. I”ll be right as rain. Now, pass me the remote.”
Lyra turned on the TV and gave Janice the remote. Then, she went back into the kitchen. I stood nearby, horrified, while Lyra poured another gin and coke. My concern deepened as she wiped her mouth, and I couldn”t help but notice the tears building up in her eyes.
She glanced at herself in the mirror, and sadness washed over me. I couldn”t fathom why she was resorting to drinking so early in the day, especially considering she had work and the potential need to drive.
That wasn”t the way forward. She was in the blasted trap, and I had to help.
”Promise me you”ll call if you have any problems, Mom,” said Lyra as she went back into the lounge.
Her mom, a hint of reluctance in her eyes, nodded in agreement. They hugged and kissed on the cheeks.
As Lyra walked towards the door, her mom called out.
”Be safe, and don”t worry too much. I”ll manage.”
Lyra took a deep breath, walked outside, and headed towards her car. I couldn”t let her drive in that state. I had to intervene, and fast.