Daisy in a Meadow

9 - Home

Nobody knew this about me, but I had a job as a waitress on the other side of town. It was at a tiny cafe, and it only paid minimum wage, but it was a whole lot better than nothing. Plus I got tips, which certainly helped.

After school, I worked the pain of the day away. I didn't stop working until we'd finished closing up, which was a little after midnight. By the time I made it home, it was nearly 1am.

At the pace of a sloth, I hung my jacket up on the coat rack and kicked my run down sneakers off my feet. Then I looked around.

My small house could've been mistaken for a shack, with the way it was so secluded and tightly spaced. Without even walking further into the house, I immediately knew my mother was home.

Smelly clothes and empty beer bottles laid on the ground. I could smell the unproductiveness from a mile away. Per usual, my mother was neglecting to take care of both herself and our house. With a sigh, I dreadfully walked deeper into the house until at last, I found myself in the living room, which was even messier than the hallway.

In the dark, resting in the centre of the undeniable mess, was my mother, whose eyes were closed. Her head was bent at an awkward position that was bound to give her a sore when she woke. Snores escaped her slightly opened lips, and although the television was on, no one was watching it. I caught a glimpse of the talkshow that was on, before I walked over to my mother and gingerly picked up the remote that was loosely held in her hand. Then I turned off the television.

Now it was completely dark, but with a swift motion, I treaded over to the light switch and flicked it on. Even though the lights were dim and weakly flickered, my mother woke up with a jolt.

"Wh-What?" she slightly yelped, her voice croaky from being un-used.

I blatantly ignored her and walked over to the pile of dishes in the sink. Examining it, I noticed that the pile was terribly high. From it emitted a nasty, rotten smell that made me grimace in disgust.

With one last glance, I turned away from the dishes and shuffled over to the fridge, despite knowing there wouldn't be any food in it. Actually, I was wrong. There was a carton of expired milk and some moldy strawberries.

Before I was able to dwell further upon the condition of the house, I was disturbed by my mother's croaky voice.

"You're back." Not even excited, or confused. It was just a statement.

I swivelled around. While doing so, I caught a glimpse of a stack of envelopes lying on the table. I already knew that they were the monthly bills that my mother couldn't afford to pay off. The bills that she expected me to take care of.

Putting my attention back to the matter at hand, I faced my mother, who was now sitting up and staring at me with her blank, thoughtless eyes.

"Yeah, I'm back," I replied after a long pause.

My mom didn't mention the fact that I'd gotten home so late. Or the fact that this was her first time being home all week. All she said was, "oh."

Without anything else to say, she lowered her head once again, and her nap was resumed.

I frowned before heading back to the kitchen and beginning to tidy up the mess that my mother had left for me to clean. Only one day back, and she'd already done horrible damage to our house.

To put it bluntly, my mother was neglectful. She'd leave for long periods of time without telling me where she was going. I couldn't remember the last time we'd had a conversation.

The house was squeaky clean by the time I was done. It took me hours. School, followed by work, followed by the deep clean I'd just done, had me physically and emotionally exhausted. With that, I decided to head upstairs to my bedroom.

Once I switched the light on, I looked around. To my satisfaction, everything in my room was still in order, just as I'd left it this morning. My bedroom was probably the only room in this house that consistently stayed clean.

My white desk held a neat pile of books, and other necessities, such as sharpened pencils and tiny perfumes. Among the things on the desk was a small, framed picture. The photo consisted of a family of three, each beautiful and happy. There was a dad, a mom, and a little daughter in the picture, who was no more than the age of five.

The wife had her arm tightly wrapped around her husband, a genuine, bright smile resting on her lips. The husband himself seemed to be mid-laugh, while his daughter simply sat atop his shoulders.

Even though I was only five at the time, I still recalled the event clear as day. My family and I were sharing a lovely picnic at the time, and there was nothing able to interfere with our happiness and love for each other. Or at least, that was what it seemed like.

I stepped closer to the picture, simply reminiscing. I looked at the laughing man, taking in his appearance. The smoothly shaved head, the big smile, the dark brown eyes. I frowned.

It seemed silly, but sometimes, I liked to pretend to pause life, and rewind back to that very moment—the moment at the picnic. It was strange to think how perfect everything was back then. Because, back then, I didn't even know what it meant to be bullied. Back then, my mother had a real job. Back then, our family had no financial problems. Back then, we lived in a clean, comfortable home. Back then, it wasn't a struggle to afford three meals per day.

And back then, my father wasn't dead.

*****

Sorry that this chapter was uneventful, I just wanted to give some background info on Daisy's home life!

Anywho, the winter break has finally started, so I'll have lots of time to write over the next two weeks. I'll be doing a double update on Christmas, so stay tuned for that!

QOTD: your fav pair of shoes that you own?
AOTD: either my panda dunks or my mini Uggs!

Thank you so so much to the people that have been voting and commenting, you guys mean the world to me!

Love, Emmanuela<3

12/22/2022