The Kings IV II

62

Brian

I sat outside Mom's apartment building, debating on whether I even wanted to get out of the car or not.

You need to.

You definitely don't need to.

I turned off my car and opened my door, stepping out of it. It looked as if there were even more people sitting outside, moping around, than last time I was here.

I let out a heavy sigh and walked to what used to be the place I called home, looking down at the doorknob. I wrapped my hand around it and twisted it, not being surprised when I was able to open it.

She never locks the goddamn door. Why does she never lock the door?

I opened the door and stood in the threshold, my eyes locked on her sitting at the table. I felt a sudden surge of anger rush over me.

"You're on your fucking phone, and you couldn't bother to call and see if we were alive?"

She looked up from her phone, taking a sip of her beer. "I could say the same about you."

"That is not my responsibility!" I yelled, "maintaining a relationship with you, that is not my job!"

"You are so much like your father," she laughed out, shaking her head, "thinking yelling gets a point across."

"Do you even care about Charlie and Thomas?" I asked, shaking my head.

"I'm sure you figured it all out, didn't you? I'm sure they're good. I'm sure you found a way to take care of them and yourself, because you're Superman, aren't you?"

"You're drunk," I angrily said, slamming the door shut behind me.

"You're a liar," she sneered.

"I'm counting six beer bottles sitting in front of you. You're drunk."

"For your information, I've only had three. Those are from last night."

"So impressive," I deadpanned.

"How are my boys?" She asked.

"They're not your boys," I said, shaking my head, "you lost being able to label them as your boys when you abandoned them."

"I did not abandon them," she said, pointing at me, "don't say that."

"You definitely did," I said, "when-when you leave your kids by themselves for hours with the door unlocked, yeah, I consider that to be abandoning them."

"Well, that's your opinion," she said, shrugging.

I watched her grab a clear bag and open it up, dumping out a white substance on the table. I chuckled, shaking my head.

"You're a junkie, Mom. You fit in great here."

"Watch your fucking mouth," she said, looking over at me as she separated her cocaine into lines.

"You know, Charlie and Thomas haven't even asked about you," I said, completely out of spite, "they don't care, Mom."

"Oh, really?" She laughed out.

"Really," I said, "you know, those kids finally feel loved. I'm watching them turn into kids I've never met before. Good kids, Mom. Thomas is trying in school now. Charlie's breaking out of his shell. They're good, and you don't even care enough to be happy for them."

"Why would I be happy for them?" She asked, shrugging, "they're not with me."

"Because you don't care!" I yelled, "you haven't even thought about texting me. Or calling me. You have done nothing. You had every opportunity in the world to do something, to get them back, but you did exactly what I thought you'd do. You chose the drugs, the alcohol, everything over them."