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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Biographical · #1963179
Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2



God i wish this bus would hurry up. My feet hurt, my legs hurt and I need to sit down. As usual, the one bus bench they have is
full. So I'm standing up under the tree waiting for the damn bus. It's now 1:25 pm. Just got off from work. I got through the day.
Barely. It took all i had and then some. I only work five hours a day. I come in at 8:00 in the morning and get off at 1:00. I have
to be home to meet my youngest girl off of her bus for school. The hours suck, so my paycheck sucks. But life is what you
make it right? Right. Finally, heres the bus....



It wasn't a long ride. The walk home is another story. This bus drops me off about three blocks from my house. Not impossible at
all, but keep in mind I'm "sick". The condition I suffer causes me to have incredible acute pain. It can strike at any given
moment. When it does, I have to do something to relieve the pain. I take something for it. Something that helps me cope. Not
just with the pain but other discomforts in my life.



Whoa. I made it home. Finally. I stopped by the corner store to grab a bite to eat for myself and the lil one. Still gotta cook
dinner later on though. God I'm wiped out. Maybe I shouldn't have taken that last dose...



"mom..mommy..MOMMA!!!"
"Wha..wah..what? What is it?
"Momma, why are you lying in the bed? You didnt pick me up from the bus stop. This is the 3rd time this week."
"I'm sorry honey, I must have fallen asleep again. I'm really tired. Go ahead and eat the plate of food I brought you and then
we'll do your homework ok."
God I gotta do better than this. My baby had to walk from the bus stop by herself again. When she woke me up, I was
still in my work clothes and my purse was still on my shoulder. Guessed I passed out...


....."You've been at it again haven't you?"
"What..whos that?"
"Yep, you've been at it again. So what did you take this time? What's your poison for the day?"
"Huh?...When did you get home?"
"About ten minutes ago. You would know that if you weren't in a border line coma".
"Hey watch your mouth, Miss Thang."
Thats my oldest daughter. I call her Miss Thang. She's in the 11th grade. Smart as a whip. Has the tendency to have a smart
ass mouth though. I wonder where she gets it from.
"So..what did you take this time?"
"I didnt take anything. And if I did, its none of your business. Now go to your room and do your homework, play music or
whatever it is you do in there."
"I am in my room!!! You're lying in my bed!! Half naked I might add. Why dont you get up and go to your room, mother?"
Holy crap I am in her room. What am I doing in here?
"Yeah well just do your homework ok."
Well tis is embarrassing. Here I am stumbling out of my daughters room in my unbuttoned work shirt and no pants. I dont
even remember coming in here. God the room is spinning. I need to go lay down again. This time in my own bed.


..."Mommy can you help me with this? I need help with my math homework."
Thats my Baby Girl again. Shes in the 3rd grade. Shes fairing pretty decent in school, but they have to adjust her curriculam
to fit her needs. Baby Girl has a learning disability. She needs a little extra help every now and again.
"Ok... Ok. I'm getting up. What do you need help with?"
"This math problem. I dont get it".
I look at the paper and all i see is a bunch of jumbled numbers and symbols. I'm not sober enough for this. What the hell are
they teaching these kids? Maybe if I turn the paper this way, I could understand it better. Nope. Still clueless.
" Look honey give mommy a second, ok? I just woke up and I dont feel good..."
"But mommy"...
"I said in a minute, Baby Girl!! Just hold on."
"Never mind. I'll ask my sister. She'll help me."


Well how low can you get? I'm too fucked up in the head to help Baby Girl with her homework. I'm her mother for Gods sake!
I didnt even start dinner yet. I dont think I remembered to take anything out the freezer to thaw out. I'm just a bumbling
stuttering mess. But all of this kept inside these walls. No one really knows whats going on this house except the
people who live here. They wont talk. They wont expsose the ugly truth. Like Granny used to say, "What goes on in this
house stays in this house."

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