I remember the excitement of moving into my mom’s new house. It was about half the size of my dad’s, but it was filled with more people than my dad’s house ever was since the divorce. My family loves to find a reason to drink, at least my mom’s side of the family. So I remember plenty of uncles and aunts shuffling through the doors with different wines and spirits. I remember the music would go all night and would kind of rattle in my brain at school the next morning. Eventually, I started spending most of my time in my room.
I remember being that age, around fourteen, I got really into playing video games late into the night. Locked into a simulated reality and with headphones on to keep the sounds out. I started find comfort in being the last one to go to sleep. I remember tossing a quilt over my mom on the couch. But as time went on, I started finding her there more and more. On the nights she was alone, she was always on the couch watching something on TV until the vino put her under. I remember then the stains on the couch, the shards along the floor, and sometimes the bloody feet that followed.
I remember the excitement for a new home dissipating into a longing for the way things were. I started to call her Jamie a lot. The house started to lose it’s sheen and the curtain started to remain drawn throughout the day. Sometimes she went to work, sometimes I went to school. When Dad found out, I had to go back there for a little while. And in that house, I only found a shell of what there once was. Everything stayed the same, except now our rugs were to be ripped out. I was enlisted by my dad to use the crowbar to pry up the nailboards along the walls of our solid concrete floors.
I remember returning to my mom’s house. Her promises were reflected in the freshened appearance of the home. Everything was back to it’s original shine, the windows were open wide with a nice autumn breeze filling the freshly swiffered rooms. I met her John, who made her happy, and we had dinner. I remember her talking about vacations, concerts, and blossoming workplace relationships.
I remember when he left. Then there was another who left quite soon. And when the next one left, well the curtains were often drawn then. I had a job, pizza delivery, and I stayed out really late. I remember coming home to the wine puddles, Adele on the TV, and tears on my shoulder. I gave her pizza to help her feel better. I drove her to the liquor store, or else she would’ve gone herself. But I did it to help her feel better.
I remember the last time I was in that house. It had only been about three months since they had found her. The landlord had taken the key, but he forgot to change the garage door combo. 3272. I remember creepy through the dusty garage, opening the side door, and stepping into our living room again. There were still stains on the couch. Maybe even glass on that floor. But the tears had, instead, sprung from my eyes.
