Page 79 of Eternal

AZRA

“Between The Bars” by Elliott Smith

Past

I stood on my tiptoes slowly. I know mom was too tired to make dinner tonight, but it’s okay. I reached the top shelf and grabbed the cereal box, then milk. I shook it quietly, pouring the last few loops into my flowery bowl. The milk smelled okay, so it should be good.

The kitchen tiles are really cold. Mom was in the living room, she stayed there a lot lately. The blue lamp was on and the TV was on too but it was muted. She just sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, Eren’s blanket draped over her shoulders. She wasn’t watching the screen, just smoking.

I walked in slowly, bowl in my hands, maybe I’ll make her smile today.

Drink up baby… stay up all night…

The music played from the old radio mom kept near the window. She used to sing too loud, and badly. We used to laugh about it, but not lately, she’s been quiet and sad, just like the song.

“You didn’t eat again, Mama.”

She blinked, then rubbed at her face. Her mascara was all smudged and her eyes were red…. Maybe she was sad because Alexei took Eren away.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Are you working tomorrow?”

“No… not tomorrow,” she said, and her voice cracked as she reached for a half-empty glass on the floor, something amber this time, not transparent.

She didn't drink this much before, she didn't forget to pick me up from school, or sleep until the evening, or cry in the middle of the day. She used to make pancakes shaped like stars and braid my hair and sing along to the songs we listened to together.

“I can make you a bowl if you want?” I offered quietly. “With some orange juice.”

Mom smiled faintly. “You’re sweet,” she said, brushing a hand weakly across the space between us, but she didn’t touch me. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

l sat down next to her, setting the cereal on the floor.

“You love this song…” I said.

Mom’s eyes softened. “I do. Do you like it?”

“Yeah.”

I did. I didn’t understand half of it but whenever the song played it made funny things in my chest, like it was too full and too empty at the same time. It was strange, but I liked it.

Mom closed her eyes. “Music sometimes is loud enough to quiet it all.”

People you’ve been before that you don’t want around anymore…

“You look sick, mama…” I rested my head on my knees. “Is that why Alexei left? Because you’re sick?”

Her breath caught, her lip trembled, and she looked away. “He didn’t leave,” she said eventually. “He took Eren for a while, just till I get better.”

She didn’t sound angry, only tired.

“Why didn’t he take me too?”

A pause.

“Because you’re my baby,” she said, and this time she reached out and touched me, brushing my tangled hair back from my face. Mom made a safe face and she tried again, her hand trembled. “You said you’d help me remember how to feel okay, remember?”

“I’m trying… but you've been crying more.”

She gave a crooked smile. “Yeah, I know. That means it still hurts, that’s good, right?”

“I don’t like when you hurt .”

“I don’t like it either.”

We stayed like that for a while. Quiet .

Eventually, mom lay back on the carpet. The cigarette burned, and she started humming along with the radio. I just watched her, not sure if she was falling asleep or floating away, then she coughed, reached for the bottle beside her, and drank again.

“Don’t you ever trust men,” she muttered, eyes locked somewhere far away. “They lie, they leave, they don’t care.”

When she says things like that… I don’t know why I stayed.

“ Love ,” mom said, “love hurts more than anything. Sometimes it’s the kind of pain you don’t even know how to fight.”

I laid down against her, leaned my head against her shoulder, the cigarette smoke stinging my eyes. “Are you scared, mama?”

“Of what?”

“Being alone…”

She nodded and left her hand up in the air. “I am.”

Where I'm seeing you there with your hands in the air…

I wanted to tell her I was scared too, but I was too small, too tired. That sometimes being alone felt better than being with her when she was angry. I couldn’t tell her that, because she was still my mom, even if she smelled like sadness and sounded like violence.

“Are you mad at me?”

Her eyes stay closed for a second too long, then she sighs, deep. “What? No, baby. Never .”

“But you look like it when you think I’m not looking.”

“That’s not your fault, habibti .”

“But it feels like it.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Do you lie to Alexei like you lie to me?”

She blinks. “Who told you that?”

“No one.” I play with the string on my pajama pants. “I just… I think lying makes people leave.”

She looks tired, like the words hurt more than she thought they would. “Sometimes,” she says. “Sometimes not lying is worse.”

I stare at the wall and I think about what she said. I think about how Alexei kissed her on the forehead before he left while she begged him to stay. How he took my brother with him, not me . How he told me, “Take care of her. You’re strong, baby .”

I’m seven. I shouldn’t be strong. But I didn’t cry, not then, not even when I watched the car go, not when I had to hug mom until she stopped screaming and sobbing.

Maybe I should be stronger.

I curl tighter into Mama’s side. She’s still humming now, like she forgot the words to the song, but not the sound.

People you’ve been before…

“I think love is like lying too, mama,” I say. Her fingers stop again. “Because it hurts when it’s gone. And you never really know when it’s gone. People just start lying more.”

She doesn’t say anything. I think she’s crying, but I don’t look up.