Chapter 70
Seventy
I’m groggy and disoriented, my mom’s voice shrieking in my ear, compounding the throbbing in my head.
“I said wake up!”
Raising my head a fraction, I peer up at her displeased face.
“What the hell are you doing, Mick? I won’t watch you waste your life this way.”
Christ almighty, it’s too early to have this conversation.
“Look at you. Hungover and sleeping until past noon! Get up and do something productive with your day.”
“Mom…”
“Don’t ‘Mom’ me. I watched your father pollute himself for years and I won’t sit idly by and allow you do to the same. You want to piss away your youth? Go do it somewhere else. You’re not doing it under my roof.”
I rise with a start. Whoa…head rush. Leaning forward, I press the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. “Why are you jumping in my shit? I’m not like him.”
“Language,” she warns.
“Sorry,” I mumble, glancing up at her through my haze.
“What are you planning to do with your life? Waste away in Oakland, stay at the same job, party all night?” Her hand rests on her hip, her expression disgusted as she catalogues my appearance.
“No.” Fuck, my head hurts. I wish she’d leave me the hell alone. I don’t want to talk about this now.
“Then what?”
“I don’t know, okay? I’ve been thinking something with boats.” Ever since we went on Nate’s sailboat, I’ve been drawn to the idea of working on the water, on ships or at a marina in some capacity.
“In what way?”
My head clangs, and all I want is more sleep. But giving my mother attitude won’t help the situation so I dig for more to say. “Eventually earn my captain’s license, do charters, something. I’m not sure what’s possible.”
Her posture relaxes. “Why don’t you talk to Nathan? He’d be happy to discuss that with you. He might have some friends or colleagues he could connect you with and provide a better frame of reference.”
“That would be great.” Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I psyche myself up to stand, but nope, not ready to do that yet.
The mattress sinks as she sits next to me, placing a hand on my thigh. “I love you, Mick, and I can’t handle seeing you so cavalier and unthinking about your life. You’re an adult now. You’ve got to think about your future—not just this weekend, this month, or this year.”
A massive sigh fights for air, and I deny it, knowing it will only make her madder. But isn’t she being a little melodramatic? I’m twenty-one for chrissakes.
“That probably sounds overbearing, but take it from me, every day counts. It’s so easy to lose track, thinking you’ll have more time later, that you’ll figure it out, that it will all work out. The next thing you know, half your life is over.”
Her words serve as a sobering bucket of ice water over the head.
I understand where she’s coming from…she’s talking about her own life.
This happened to her. The difference is I’m not married to an abusive asshole like she was, or trying to strategize my escape.
Except…I am planning to take flight. I don’t want to be stuck in Oakland for years, or working on cars I hate, or partying every weekend like there’s no tomorrow.
It’s all getting old fast. Pointless. Unfulfilling.
I cover her hand with mine. “I get it, Mom. And you’re right.”
Time to learn about jobs that put me outside, on the water, navigating ocean vessels on sun-dipped days. Just as soon as this hangover leaves.