Page 57 of The Other Side of Green

Life was a weird thing. That was my sole analysis on the shitstorm I’d found myself in.

I rubbed at my tense shoulders, the ache of holding my violin, unpracticed, pulling at my muscles. Rolling my neck, I enjoyed the soothing sound of the coffee jug coming up to percolation.

“Lyra?” I turned at Mom’s voice coming from the door. Black mascara ringed her eyes, by design or emotion who knew? Did the woman even know what emotion was? “My baby. Why you not talking to your momma?”

Oh I don’t know. Because you’re a crackhead whore?

“Mom, can we leave it today?” I pushed a curl back from my face, tucking it behind my ear. For the first time in a long while, I looked hard at Mom, searching for similarities between us, anything that could make me more hers than if the Latino bastard who’d lived next door had a mix in my genes.

“I’ve come back, baby girl. I wanna look after you.”

“Look after me?” I pulled the coffee jug and thudded it down on the tray. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that was a thing you did.”

“Lyra. Stop.” She reached a hand for my arm, stretching her skinny limb across my body, revealing her battle scars which twisted my stomach.

“I’m clean, I swear. I’m going to live here with you, look after you.”

“Mom, how old am I?”

Her face fell blank. “Seventeen.”

“No. I’m eighteen, and I don’t need looking after anymore.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, I don’t. And I’ll be going back to college anyway.” I bit my lip to stop myself from adding, maybe.

“With all your fancy scholarship friends. I’ve seen them in there. That blond boy looks like a catch.”

“Alex Collins?” I laughed. “Maybe you should make him your toy boy.”

I didn’t mean it, obviously. I wouldn’t wish Mom on anyone. Especially Alex, who despite his dodgy parentage seemed a decent guy.

But then I guess I couldn’t talk about parentage.

“Well, the house will be mine now. If you’re an adult and don’t want to see me, I guess you can find somewhere else to live.”

My mouth fell open. “What?”

“You heard. Little Miss Snooty Pants. Too good for her momma, no matter how hard she try.”

I scrunched my face. “Don’t give me that Deep South talk. You’re a junkie who hangs out with trash to score a hit.”

“Yeah well, at least I’m not famous for being the black kid given a pity scholarship.”

“You bitch! You’ve known about that and you haven’t even bothered to call me, come here to check to see if I’m okay? If you weren’t a waste of space, I wouldn’t have needed a scholarship. You would have helped me earn it through decent hard work. You would have loved me enough like Grams did to try your hardest to help me, like a mother should do.”

“Help you. Help you! I never wanted you. A mistake you were. A stupid high with the biggest downer ever known.”

I bent over, winded in my stomach. “That’s why you’ve always hated me.”

“I’d have to care about you to hate you.”

I lurched forward, my hands grabbing her shoulders, shaking her thin frame so hard her teeth clashed together like percussion out of time. “I hate you. Hate you. You’ve ruined everything.”

“Like you ruined my life.”

“How?”