Page 42 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)

Hazel

“ S o nice of you to actually pick up the phone when your mother calls.” The voice of Sophia Nucci comes clear through the phone, and I almost drop it.

I don’t usually answer on the first call.

I let it ring through to voicemail a few times while I psych myself up.

She’s relentless when she calls. I usually have at least a minute to prepare.

“Are you going to say anything? Or are you too good for me now that you’re a big city girl?

” The tone she’s using is intended to be sweet, but a thread of cruel venom weaves through it regardless. I know how she thinks, how she behaves.

“Sorry, Mom, I’ve been busy.” My voice is stilted as I try to keep my grasp on reality, fighting the urge to regress into the scared, insecure teenager I used to be.

“Apparently much too busy for me!” Her voice is a little too loud, a little too bright. I wonder what she’s on this time. Usually, she’s drunk. Those calls are always horrible and slurred, and she just calls and calls until she’s done telling me whatever terrible thing she wants to.

“I’m sorry.” I take a pause, letting the crisp air fill my lungs and ground me .

“You should be, now tell me what you’ve been up to? Has Justin finally proposed? You know you shouldn’t be giving the milk for free…” she trails off. Considering her relationships, she’s not exactly one to talk.

“Actually, we broke up.” There’s no easier way to say it, and I’m not about to sugarcoat it, least of all for her.

“WHAT?!?!” she shrieks through the phone. You’d think I just told her I ran over her cat.

“Yeah, turns out–”

“What did you do?! How could you ruin such a good thing? You know he was always too good for you, but you always thought you wanted better, and now you dump him? You stupid, stupid little girl.” Eh, not the worst thing she’s called me. “How could you ruin the only good thing you have in your life?”

“Mom, I didn’t ruin it, and it’s not the only good thing–”

“It is! Without him, you are nothing!” Her shrieks are starting to dissolve into wails, lamenting my misfortune.

“You’ll never do any better!” she sobs. “Have you even looked at yourself lately? Unless you’ve lost a considerable amount of weight, you’re still the curvy, chubby girl, always a loner, always an outcast.”

These aren’t new things she’s telling me, but it still stings like the lash of a whip.

I don’t bother to point out that I was a loner because of her behaviour—no one wanted to spend time with the junkie’s daughter.

I don’t bother to point out that I was significantly underweight in high school and my English teacher brought granola bars and trail mix specifically for me so I wouldn’t starve.

None of that will mean anything to her. If nothing else, it will irritate her further and I don’t have the strength for that right now. I may as well rip off the band-aid.

“He cheated on me, Mom.” Dead silence comes from the other end of the line. “I kicked him out.”

“Is that all?” I’m embarrassed at how shocked I am at her response.

“I could have told you that, honey, that’s what men do, especially to women like us.

” I don’t appreciate being lumped in with her.

I hate that she sees me as a reflection of herself instead of as my own person, she always has.

I don’t claim superiority, but I do consider myself a step above the woman who left her daughter vulnerable and made her clean up her mom’s puke most nights of the week.

“Well, I didn’t want to stand for it. I think I’m worth more than that. I walked in on him cheating on me, so I dumped him.”

“Oh, honey, that’s not how you deal with that.

” I can hear her nasty smile through the phone.

She’s mocking me now. Awesome. “You should have asked to join in! Men love that, and then you wouldn’t be all sad and alone, like you’ve made me.

You just make people sad and alone, Hazy-girl.

And now you’ve done it to yourself.” I grab a seat on a nearby bench, trying to ground myself.

“I’m not alone, Mom, I have friends, I have a job–”

“Oh, that means nothing! Friends will always leave, and jobs aren’t everything you know!

I raised you while having almost no job and I turned out just fine!

” How can she ignore that I didn’t, though?

It would be useless to ask her. She’s crying loudly now, and I wish I could say I feel for her, but I know that this is just the drugs.

She’ll wake up tomorrow and have zero recollection of it.

I long ago decided that if she wasn’t going to remember it, I wasn’t going to let it get to me.

“Mom, I know you’re worried, but I’m going to be okay, I promise.” I’m trying to think of how to wrap up the call.

“Are you actually trying in bed? Are you blowing him enough? Clearly not, or he wouldn’t be sleeping around on you.

It’s really your own fault if you can’t keep him!

God, how stupid can you be? Why can’t you listen to my advice for once?

I’m your mother, why don’t you ever listen?

You never listen.” She’s at the rambling stage now.

I need to try to calm her down before I have a meltdown in the middle of the street. Her words cut deeper today.

“Mom, I–I’ll try, okay? I’ll look up some tutorials or something and I’ll try harder. I promise.” The words are ash in my mouth. I have nothing else to tell her .

“Okay, because you know I’m always right, I just want to look out for you is all.”

“I know, Mom.”

“You could be so much better. I know it, Hazel. If you ever tried even a little.” I hear her yawn on the other end and the rush of relief is heavenly, knowing that she’s winding down.

“I know, Mom. You sound pretty tired? Did you sleep last night?” This trick almost always works.

“Oh, honey, I slept so poorly, you kept me up all night! You know, if you just got your homework done, the band would stop playing.” Her words slur together, and I can hear her lying down, the sound of rustling blankets coming through.

“I’ll turn the band off, Mom, you just get some rest.” The sob I’m holding back catches in my throat. I know my mom blames me for most bad things, but when she’s this out of it, I still worry about her.

“Good girl, Hazel. Don’t forget about your school bus.” I have no idea what she means by that, but I wait another minute or two in silence before soft snores can be heard and her phone clatters to the ground.

I end the call, furious at the universe that I have to deal with this, but we can only make the best of what we’re given. She’s the only thing I’ve had all my life, the only constant, even if she’s constantly an inebriated asshole.

I collect myself, standing up again and sliding my now-cold hands into my pockets. My fingers brush up against the small slips of paper and I pull one out. It’s for a one-bedroom suite not too far from here. It would mean I get to save money, and I only need enough room for myself.

I need a backup plan. The one thing my mom got right is that I always end up alone. I can’t depend on my current living situation, there are too many variables.

I pull out my phone and dial the number.