The Mum Brain, (scene 3)

I ignored Damien's calls. But still he sent several questioning and abusive texts. I was a bitch. A slut. What did I ever see in him? Deep down I knew I owed him an explanation, but why bother. He didn't need to know how I'd woken up this morning and felt different. Seen him differently. His knotted hair wasn't cool after all, but a rats' nest. His grunge heavy metal t-shirts were a million sizes too big for him. He was relatively smart when he rocked up to class, but mostly it was just to goof around with his friends, the only two who made it to senior year: Dean and Marty. We were together out of convenience for Dean and Tara. I knew that now, even if he didn't. Damien would get over it eventually.

Mum sat outside, alcoholic beverage and cigarette in one hand, mobile in the other. She was flirting with someone down the phone—her favourite form of business talk. Her chunky, silver jewellery rattled as she laughed. She smiled at me as I walked out. She ended the call looking like she'd gotten what she wanted. She always did.

'And that's how it's done.' I dropped my stuff onto the floor and slumped down in the chair, squinting in the sun. Mum viewed me.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' I said.

'Is it a good nothing? Or a bad nothing?'

'It's a nothing, nothing.'

'Alright nothing, you hungry?' I shrugged.

'Not really.' She watched me for a little while longer, finishing her cigarette.

'How's school?'

'Fine.' My phone bleeped a couple of times as mum walked past. She turned in the doorway.

'I feel like pizza, pepperoni.' I nodded. My favourite. I knew then she'd read the half text on display from Damien. 'I want my stuff. And if you ever thought I gave a shit, you need to get real Reilly.

#Mumalwaysknows #Breakupabuse