twisted ✔️ (being edited)

2| Wonder Woman

I can't sleep. Rolling over, I grab my phone and check the time: 2:51 AM. "Of course," I mutter, rubbing my eyes as I climb out of bed, accepting the fact I'm not getting any sleep tonight. I adjust my tank top as I walk downstairs to the kitchen for some water.

Mom sits at the dining room table surrounded by scattered paper. "Shit!" She screams, tossing a calculator aside. What is she doing awake? "Shit. Shit. Shit!" She rubs her forehead with a sigh.

"Mom?" I ask, getting her attention as her eyes dart over to mine. She looks like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide in shock. "What are you doing? It's almost three am."

"Codi," Mom gasps. "You scared me. Why are you awake?"

"I couldn't sleep," I admit, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and fill it with water from the tap. "And I was thirsty. Why are you awake?" I repeat the question back to her. "What are you working on?"

Mom types into the calculator. "Bills, bills, fucking bills!" She starts smacking the papers around her. "All these bills keep adding up. Electric. Water. House payments. Car payments. Insurance. Not to mention groceries and the funeral. I only have enough money to cover the next two months. With your father gone, no more money is coming in. Even my disability checks aren't enough to cover it." Right. The accident—as Mom calls it because she refuses to admit she was at fault. A few years ago, we were shopping at Home Depot for new tools for Dad's birthday. The worker had let us know to stay clear as a forklift was coming through, but Mom ignored him and stepped forward to grab something, and her foot was run over. She lost two toes and spent a week in the hospital. The company didn't want to face a lawsuit, even though Mom was in the wrong (God forbid if I ever tell her that again) and they agreed to pay her twenty-five hundred a month for the next five years. She has one year left. "I-I don't know what I'm going to do, Codi. We might have to sell the house. Well, then bills wouldn't matter because we'd be homeless!"

"I'm getting a raise soon," I tell Mom as I sit down beside her, annoyed as I think about my shitty job at the shitty dinner in town, Jackie's Shackie. I've been working there since I turned fourteen—now I'm eighteen—and the most experienced there. Every few months another server or cook or host quits and our lovely boss, Jackie, can't seem to figure out why. Wait, did I say lovely? I mean horrible and other words God wouldn't be proud to hear me think. "I could help out. You know, take care of some things—"

"Absolutely not," Mom interrupts, shaking her head. "No. I am the grownup. I have to take care of you. Not the other way around."

I grab her hand. "It's okay if you struggle, Mom. We take care of each other. Okay?" She nods. "Besides, if we really need to, we can always take out of my college fund—"

"Codi, no!" She shouts as her eyes widen. "I am not taking away from your future."

"What future do I have, Mom, if we lose everything?" I whisper, frowning. "If we really need the money, then I don't mind giving it up. Coach Jackson said I'm a shoo-in for a softball scholarship, anyway."  

Mom takes in a deep breath and cups my face. "I'll figure out a way. I always figure out a way. Now, go back to bed. It's late."

"I was about to say the same thing to you," I tease, finishing my water and setting the empty cup in the sink. "We're going to be okay, Mom. You're a superhero. You're Wonder Woman!"

She rolls her eyes with a laugh. "Yeah, right."

"You are!" I defend as I sit back down. "When I was six, Dad was at work, and I ate half that jar of peanut butter, and the car wasn't working, you ran and carried me all the way to the hospital—barefoot, I might add. You got me in time before I swelled up like a balloon." I remind her of another time. "Or when I was twelve and me and Dad were fixing the swing after that storm. I climbed the tree to tie the rope and you caught me when that branch broke, and I fell. You came out of nowhere! I don't even remember when you came outside."

"I remember that," Mom whispers as she nods to herself. "I was in the kitchen making sandwiches and I saw you in that tree. You were always so clumsy."

"See? You are a superhero." I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. "And I know you'll save us again." With that, I walk back upstairs, and sleep comes to me easy.