Chapter 4 Avalon
four
Avalon
Ithink about him a lot.
I wonder what he’s up to… if he ever thinks about me. If he ever thought about taking me with him or fighting for me. Or if all he cared about was getting out. Out of this house. Out of his marriage. Out of all of his commitments… including me.
I wonder if I’d even know him if I saw him on the street or if it’s been too long. I wonder if he’d recognize me. Would he stop and say something?
Or just pretend I don’t exist.
Sometimes, I wonder if he actually ran out on us or if that’s another thing she lied to me about.
“Hi, I’m Maia, I’m gonna be your server. Can I get you something to drink?” I look up to see my waitress smiling down at me. She can’t be much older than I am; I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s a student at Rockford; it’s the ideal place to work since it’s right off campus.
“Oh, um, a chocolate shake.” I smile back. To be honest, I haven’t even looked at the menu yet. I only came here because I didn’t want to go home yet.
“Excellent choice,” she replies. “My best friend says Greystone has the best chocolate shakes ever, and she’d know because she’s tried them all. Are you ready to order, or do you need another minute?”
I glance at the menu; nothing really pops out at me. “I’ll take some onion rings as well, thank you.”
“Coming right up.”
I have a feeling that right up is quite literal.
I don’t know how this diner stays open because no one is there whenever I pass it on my way home.
Well, not no one. There’s a booth not too far away from me where two other girls are sitting, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen them through the window a few times because one of them looks familiar.
My server, Maia, I think she said her name was, rings in my order and then heads toward the only other table.
Except she doesn’t take their order. She sits down.
I don’t have to question if she knows them because, if sitting down didn’t give it away, the instant laughter would’ve.
I never had that. I was so focused on taking care of my mom. Making sure she made it home at night and through the night. I guess friends didn’t seem important then.
And how was I supposed to explain to people that they couldn’t come over to my house because what parent would want their kid in a home with easily accessible drugs?
So, I stopped caring about making friends and focused on getting through school to get out of this town.
So I could get away from her.
How messed up is that? My mom’s struggling with addiction, and I’m concerned about getting away from her the first chance I get.
“Here you go.” A plate slides in front of me, followed by a milkshake. I blink up at her, momentarily forgetting where I am. “If you need anything else, just holler. Literally.”
I sip my chocolate shake, and her friend wasn’t wrong. This is one of the best chocolate shakes I’ve had in a long time.
It’s one of the only things I remember about my dad. My mom was always a basic vanilla fan; she said the chocolate syrup in milkshakes made it taste funny, but it’s always been my favorite. My dad’s too.
We actually used to come here when I was younger before he left and before it became Greystone. I think it was Queen’s Diner back then. It closed down not long after he left; in some ways, it was kind of poetic, like the ending of a chapter in more ways than one.
My phone dings, alerting me to a new notification; my face drops as I pull it out of my pocket—
They never got our payment.
The payment my mom swore she put on autopay.
The payment that she promised me I’d no longer need to take care of.
I always made sure our rent was paid because we needed a place to live.
We couldn’t afford to get kicked out of our apartment because I don’t know if we’d be able to find another place so close to campus.
She was in charge of paying our utilities…
and she’s already skipped out on doing that after only two months.
She’s skipped out on doing the bare minimum when I shouldn’t be paying for any of the bills.
I pull a twenty out of my wallet, which is more than enough to cover my meal, take one more sip of my chocolate shake, grab a handful of onion rings, and leave.
I snack on the onion rings on the walk back, thinking of how to bring this up to her. How do I bring up the fact that I get notifications for our utility bill so I can make sure she pays it?
Because I don’t trust her.
I don’t want to find out the hard way that we missed a payment. Like our electricity being shut off, so there’s no heat in the dead of winter. This happened during my freshman year of high school, which led to me paying for everything.
“Mami!” I yell, walking into our apartment, and when I try to flip on the lights, they do nothing.
Usually, I get a warning before this happens. Then I see it. In her purse is a stack of unopened utility bills. All with NOTICE written in large red letters. At least ten envelopes threatening to shut off our utilities.
The bill’s more than double now, but I pay it because I don’t have a choice.
“Mami!” I repeat. She’s not on the couch, which is her usual resting ground after she gets back from a night out. So, she might’ve been sober enough to peel herself off the couch after I left this morning and get to her bed.
I find her on the floor… close enough.
“Mami,” I tap her face, “despiértate. Vámonos. Wakey, wakey.”
Her eyes blink open, and she smiles at me, which is new. She’s usually not thrilled when I wake her up, but maybe last night wasn’t too rough.
“Mi nina hermosa.”
“Mami,” I tug her body up to lean against her bed, “you didn’t pay the bills.”
She stares at me like she’s still coming to reality.
“Sin luces. Nos cortaron la electricidad.”
She shakes her head. “No. Pagué.” She sits herself up a little higher. “I paid.” She repeats in English. “I paid it on August—”
“Mom,” my voice is soft, even though I want to yell, “it’s nearly October.”
She shakes her head again like I’m lying to her.
“I thought you set it up for autopay.” I grab her hand. “Remember, we talked about that.”
I don’t mention that I found countless pieces of evidence showing that she knew the due date had passed because I knew that wouldn’t help.
“Ay me olvidé.” She pats my cheek. “I’ll pay it now.”
“Lo hice, todo listo,” I reply. “It’s taken care of.”
“Mi nina hermosa,” she repeats, but it doesn’t hold the same touch of sincerity that it did before. It’s almost like she’s saying I played right into her hand… I always do.
She knows I’ll be there to put all the pieces back together. That I’ll be there when she makes a mistake. That I’ll clean up her mess.
And I hate it because I’m allowing her lifestyle to continue. I’m letting the money go to drugs and alcohol because she knows I’ll make sure we’re able to stay in this apartment.
I hate it… I do.
But with so much loss—
I can’t lose her too.