Sweet Girl by Quell T. Fox
Charlotte
ThreedaysandI’vebarelyspokentoanyone.It’snotnormalformetofeelsodownanddepressedforsolong,butithappenseverynowandthen.Theworldcatchinguponmeandmybrainneedingabreak.
My phone has stayed on silent, but I watch as it lights up with notifications. I don’t bother checking any of them, not in the mood to talk to anyone.
Mom has been working—though I can’t actually be sure where she is—almost 24/7. She doesn’t even know I went to the hospital the other day. Not unless someone there recognized me and told her, but if she knows, she hasn’t checked on me. I’ve spent this alone time lying in bed, or lounging around on the couch and watching TV, nursing my hand back to good health. I need some time to myself to process and figure my shit out. My brain is full, on overload, and I need to clear it out.
I’ve been here for four weeks already. How is that even possible? Four weeks, twenty eight days and I’ve spent little more than an hour with my mother on only three occasions.
Something niggling at the back of my mind tells me exactly where she is and as much as I believe it to be true, I don’t want it to be.
How can it be so easy for her to just give up this life and move onto another? Choosing to be in the life of another little girl over spending time with the one she has? I mean, I saw it when I was younger. I saw the steady stream of men coming and going before Jonathan showed up. But I was still a part of that life. This feels like I’m being kicked to the curb, forgotten because I’m of age and off to college. This should be the time she and I get along better, do more things together, shouldn’t it?
To be with someone for years, to have a daughter that is nineteen that you just forget about and lie to?
It doesn’t seem right. Not only does it piss me off, but it actually hurts.
It puts an ache right in my chest and I hate it.
I’ve never really had anyone my entire life and mostly I’ve been okay with it. I don’t mind being by myself and doing my own thing. I guess I learned how to at a young age, but sometimes it gets tiring. Sometimes you just want someone to lean on. And sure, I can call people. I have Izzy, I can call Jace, and I know I can call Michael now, but how much do I mean to them?
Because that’s what this comes down to.
What would they do if I never talked to them again? Jace is busy with his mother, and would maybe try to reach out every now and then. Michael would move on to the next girl, though I’m sure he’d think about me sometimes. Izzy would probably blow up my phone and threaten me, but she’d get over it too.
I’ve never had anyone put me first. Care about me more than anything.
I’ve never had anyone really, truly love me.
Is that a lot to ask?
Mom has always had her job, Jonathan had mom… at least, I thought. Jace was one of my good friends, but he always had his mom to worry about. I don’t know shit about my own dad. And when I moved to college, I got stuck with an amazing roommate.
But she has Ivan.
Everyone has someone, but me.
Even now that Jonathan and Mom broke up, he has his bar.
He has something.
I have nothing.
Not a fucking thing.
I drag myself up from the couch and head upstairs to my room. I take time packing all of my things, knowing exactly what I need to do. It takes me longer than it should, but I only have one hand. Once everything is packed tightly into my bags, I straighten up my room. Then I call an Uber and lock the house up as I leave.
I wonder how long it’ll take Mom to notice I’m gone.