" Mom, I don't want to leave here, I have my own life and friends here. We've lived here for 17 years, why do we have to move?"
I lowered my voice because I realized that the neighbors might hear our conversation.
"Becca, try to understand I am not..."
I shake my head, letting out a sigh. "I understand, mother. You lost your job because you were drunk. Just find another... and try not to be drunk the next time."
She looks away, embarrassed but I don't care. She should be embarrassed. I mean she's the mother, not me.
My mother lets out a sad sigh, looking back at me. "Becca, the house I got is the cheapest deal and the place is just... beautiful. It is calm and just the right place away from all the tensions of city life." as she pursues me.
I huff in response, crossing my arms and staring at her before my gaze moves around our small 1bhk apartment only to fall on those big, innocent eyes and face beaming right at me as those light brown tresses are visible from behind the chair.
Along with the innocence of a child, right now, those eyes bear fear in them as well as her tiny hands clutch onto the slip seat of the chair.
Aria was just a year old when my mother and I met her in an adoption centre in Sacramento.
From the moment I met her I was sure that I wanted her to be my sister. I was eleven then. Now, I am seventeen and she is seven. And, I totally, completely love her.
"Becca?" That hoarse voice of my mother brings me back to reality.
Noticing how tired she looks, those dark circles under her eyes and grey starts to be prominent in her unkempt tresses, could you ever believe me when I told you that she used to be Ms California for three consecutive years starting from eighteen, huh? I shrug, biting my lip subtly.
Well, what to say... she's also an alcoholic.
"Please, Becca. Think about it, dear one. I have very fewer savings and no income. I cannot afford to live here with my children. We need to leave." She tilts her head, pleadingly and leans over to press her hand on mine.
I shut her off by throwing a narrow glare at her, "Fine, mother."
I stand up on my feet and stomp off to my bedroom, angrily, with my clenched fists and bang the door quite hard.
These fight and argument sessions have been in this household for quite a long time.
When I was small, I didn't know why my mother was drinking day and night and why my father left for work but never came back.
But as I grew up, I observed my mother and due to her drunken situation, my presence began to fuel her rage and frustration leading to these dumb fuck sessions.
No one was there to help me out.
My grandparents had cut ties with my mother because she chose to marry my father. I had to learn everything on my own with a little... or a lot of help from our neighbors.
While I was trying to handle this household, my mother partied, got drunk and brought a different boy every night. Some quite younger than she is.
I would lock Aria and me in our room, stocked with enough food and other supplies so that neither of us would have to go out of the room.
Thankfully, we have an in—built bathroom in the room.
Sometimes, I pity Aria. I mean I was born in this household but I brought her here when she was a baby and let her be a part of our lives and vice versa when she could have been adopted by someone richer and someone nicer and someone happier.
I let out a low sob when the door creaks open.
Looking up I find those darker shade of brown hair as a little angel walks in, clutching onto a teddy bear in her arm.
"Can I be with you, Beck? Momma is drinking again!" She asks.
Dabbing at my wet cheeks, I let out a smile at her with a nod and open my arms as she paces up only to walk into my arms.
Gosh, I am tired of her drinking again and again. Doesn't she realize that alcohol has ruined her life, her family and... because of it, she got fired even. She doesn't have the curtsy not to drink in front of Aria, one of our fight topics.
I adjust her onto my lap and gently caress her hair. There are quite long for a seven—year—old. Maybe I should take her to the salon for a trim? "Hello, little angel." I grin, not letting her know that I have been crying for a couple of hours.
