Suddenly, my phone starts belting out Beethoven's Fifth, and all of our good times are lost.
There, on the arm of the loveseat, sat my phone as it wore my mother's fake-smile profile picture. The ominous melody was only slightly indicative of the sheer amount of dread I felt when talking to that woman. She was a controlling, manipulative, ego-centric bitch who couldn't see anything about me other than as an extension of herself, and how much of a disappointment I was. And that was before I got fat.
"Hello Mother." I say flatly into the phone
"Oh good, I didn't interrupt you eating. For once." she snarked back, "If it's not too much trouble for you, Melanie, would you do me a favor and pick up a gallon of milk? We all drink it you know, it wouldn't kill you to leave a little for your mother in the morning."
Ugh.
"You know, the same Mother who works so hard to provide you with the opportunities you've so expertly wasted, and all the food you so unappreciatively choke down.."
Double ugh.
"Yeah Mom, me and Alice will go pick up some milk right now." I roll my eyes, "I'll get her some breakfast on the way back."
"Do not get her any breakfast on the way back!" she hollered, "You'll order way too much for her and you know she'll eat it all! That girl is on a diet the minute I get home, do you understand me?!"
Blah blah blah, blah blah...
"Yeah Mom, sure." I exhale, "Don't feed the sister. Got it. Love you too."
I hung up and threw the phone down beside me before throwing my head back and letting out a loud groan of immense displeasure.
"What was that about?" Alice asked from the kitchen, "Did you and Mother get into another fight?"
"No." I grumble, "Hey, put on your slippers, we've gotta go get... milk or something. I wasn't really paying attention."
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