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I only remember her coming home once when I waited for her. It must have been 3 AM. I saw her car pull in. I was thoroughly pissed off at having to take care of myself all the time. I kept telling myself,
But it wasn't really true. I didn't have that option. I had to be the adult, or I had to prepare for eviction if my mom got fired for sleeping through the whole day instead of going to work. Apparently I wasn't a very good parent, cause my mom did get fired, and we did get evicted, and she did get her car reposessed.
The night that she came home, I passed her on the way to my room. I didn't talk to her. I just glared at her. I was so fucking pissed off and disappointed and stressed I couldn't handle it. She was so out of it that the next day when she got angry, she yelled at me, "I know you were awake when I got home last night." Like she could enforce a bed time when she never came home. But I wasn't even trying to avoid her that night. She was just so lit up when she got home that she had no idea what was going on. I just wanted to hit her.
Usually my mom just never came home at night. I would leave the light on in the kitchen and take the phone to my room with me. I would hope for a call from her. Just to say she wouldn't be home. It was stupid. I knew it wasn't going to happen. It didn't happen a single time. Not once did my mother call me.
Sometimes, I can't stop applying my old memory to my current life. There are nights when my roommate stays with her boyfriend. She never tells me that she isn't coming back at night. She just doesn't. Usually I leave the light on for her.