okay so this is a story i am starting to write. I need some opinions.
Its about a 14 year old girl and her mom is an alcoholic.
here is what i have so far…
Poverty: the state or condition of having little or no money, goods, or means of support; conditions of being poor.
The dictionary definition of poverty, but I bet the people who made the dictionary have never had the feeling of poverty. Well, let me tell you, I have, big time.
I clutched my notebook tighter against my chest as the wind whirled around me. I was cold and I didn’t have any gloves to keep my hands warm as I tried to not let my book of secrets fly away with the wind. I had to get home, who knows what my mom will be like when she is drunk. She can either be cheery drunk or a mean one. Which every her mood was that morning it was completly opposite when she drunk, and this morning I didn’t know.
I walked up the stairs to our two bedroom apartment. Our neighbors, The Bali family, looked out there window to the street when we first pulled up in the parking lot. When I looked up at them, they were looking at our family size. Every new, crappy, place I move to its always only two bedrooms. That’s all my mother can afford and it’s no point in trying at school or anything because we move before the land lord needs money. Stay for 3 weeks, and were off in our car again. When we finally walked up the stairs, three flights, my mom sent Nathaniel and Remington to go get the rest of the bags. The Bali family came out and all greeted us with welcome and said that they would help us move in. my mom politely turned them down; she honestly was embarrassed what was in the boxes, alcohol. I saw the wife, Mrs. Jen Bali, glanced at my mother’s left hand. I saw, every so slightly a shake of her head. She was obviously disgusted. I never thought my mother not being married was a problem. Besides who would want to deal with a woman like my mother will all these kids? I quietly gestured my siblings to go inside. I started unpacking the boxes and Sage, who is twelve, started unpacking another box. Then I handed some objects to Remington, he is ten, and he put them on the few pieces of furniture that the land lord gave us. It was no use in unpacking all the bags when we would be gone again in three weeks or so.
“Remington, go put the cots in the bedroom.” I said as I looked at the door, afraid my mom would come in and I would be caught doing something wrong. Remington got one cot. It was about the size of a single bed. We only had three so we pushed them together and about four of us can fit, snug and tight, but we can still sleep. Then we take a pillow from the bed in the master bedroom and a blanket and we switch sleeping on the floor. We all switched, I was always the one who slept on the floor more often because my siblings didn’t need the aching back in the morning. My mother though, of course would never have one of the kids in her room. It would ruin her chances for a boyfriend who, maybe, just maybe, will be the one. Remington came back and grabbed the rest of the cots, when finally he moved the box labeled books and toys to our bedroom. I could see faintly that went to the wall opposite our beds. I finally looked at the apartment, the doors were cracking and the walls needed to be painted. It was pretty dirty and my mom’s cigarette smoke didn’t help. Oh, well, it will do for the short time we will be here. Nathaniel who is only five years old, and he still acts like a baby, held up his arms and I gently picked him up. I put him on my left hip as my mom was just about to blow smoke in his direction.
“Hello my baby Nathaniel.” My mom said as she stroked his cheek, then she looked at me. “Honey will you pour me a glass of wine.” When I gave her a look she said in a sweet voice she used for Nathaniel moments earlier. “Please, Ebony, I need one.” She said then she smiled as she put her cigarette back in her mouth. She took a long drag until she released the smoke in the packed apartment. I hesitated in getting her a glass of wanted she wanted. But, it was either now or her complaining and demanding me to get her one later. I put down Nathaniel on the raggedy couch and I put the TV on. I turned it to twenty-three, the nick J.R show. Nathaniel sat up immediately and clapped along with the other children on the show. Then, Mae came next to Nathaniel and pulled him in her lap. He looked so big next to Mae who was only eight. She laughed as Nathaniel tried to squirm away. I went into the kitchen where the tile looked like they needed a deep cleaning, this whole place needed a deep cleaning. I got a glass from the cabinet and poured my mom some wine. I filled it up so much it almost fell down the sides. I was about to take a sip so make it not so high, but I then looked at Mae and Nathaniel and instead I poured a little in the sink.
“Here, mom,” I said as I went and sat at the two-person table. Mom looked over at
sorry there is more….
Mom looked over at the table and then walked over, she had a cat like walk, all confident and you would never guess her secret. Not even if you had a million chances to get it right. A couple years ago, when my mom wasn’t drunk or hung over her skin was so healthy and her black hair was shiny too. Her waist was tiny for her age and she had no fat. I used to be jealous of my own mother, because even then, I didn’t like to think of her that way. I always though did have the thought of stealing a sip of whisky from the bottle or one beer. If this was gone, my mom would probably think she just drank it the night before. I did though, break my promise last year. I was thirteen and a half and one night, after the other kids were at school, even Nathaniel was in pre-k, I was taking care of my mom with one of her worst hang over. I putting a cold rag on her head and I saw the vodka bottle sitting on the floor. I picked it up; i took a swig.
by the way i am only 13 and i know it needs some buffing :)
