Do You See What I See?

Chapter One:

"Man is only as we perceive him," I read aloud. The car bucked and dipped on the rocky, dirt road, but my voice didn't waver. "As the eye perceives beauty, some perceive darkness as light, and light as shadow. We are all but one eye, seeing different shades of what truly exists. Somehow, this has become our reality, and it is vast." I finished, and looked forward to scan my mother's tanned and Botox ruined face. She was not looking at me, but rather at the rear-view mirror, studying her eye makeup.

"Well?" I asked, wanting her opinion. The English assignment was due at my new school for them to allow me into Honours, and it was really important. But instead of responding, mom just continued fixing her makeup, not even looking at the road, and almost driving headfirst into an eighteen wheeler. I could smell alcohol in the car, and something stronger, more pungent.

"Mom!" I said, and she looked up at me, her eyes red and glazed. "Huh? What, sweetheart? Sorry, read it again." I sighed, sitting back in the seat. Outside, it was pouring rain, and it just served to make me more miserable. "Never mind." I mumbled, crumpling up the essay and throwing it into my blue duffel bag.

Mom went back to pretend driving, and I stared out the window. It was a good essay, I was sure of it, but was it enough? I really needed this honours class if I wanted to begin writing my own column by grade 10. I didn't want to move to a new school, I was happy at my old one. I liked the English teacher, and that was all that really mattered. But after moms third loser boyfriend left, we'd had to move. All the way out in the middle of nowhere.

"Now, now Britt, smile a little." My mom said, and I looked at her. It was obvious she was under the influence of something. Usually when she wasn't screaming at me, and she was being nice, it was an obvious sign that she was high. "You get to meet new friends, hell; maybe you'll even meet a cute boy." She smiled at me, and then started swearing as her phone rang.

"Shit, shit, that'll be the real estate agent, shit!" She said, and then sighed in relief as she found her phone, and flipped it open. "Hello?" She said, and I heard garbled speaking over the line. "Yes, I'm so sorry, I know we're late. We'll be there within ten minutes; we had a late start this morning." She glanced back at me and I flushed. It wasn't my fault I'd wanted to finish writing about my house before we left.

Remembering this, I slid over and grabbed my notebook from my duffel bag. Inside were drawings, poems. I flipped to the very last page, where I'd drawn a picture of our house, and a poem alongside it.

Home:

Brick and moulding and cement and paint

Are all these things a mirror of my pain?

Where I watched him beat her down

And fell along with my mother's crown

Did I deserve what happened there?

Did I fight hard enough, did I even care?

Where can I go now, it seems?

When all that haunts me is my dreams

Farewell my tomb of loss and grief

I will miss you, though my stay was brief

I closed the notebook, and glanced out the window. We were pulling into a neighbourhood, where all the houses seemed decrepit, and in well need of a paint job. I sighed. I'd hoped maybe, with all the insurance money mom got after her loser boyfriend left, we'd be able to afford something new. But obviously that was not the case.

We pulled into the sixth driveway on the right; at least the place was big. However, it was a dump. The paint was peeling, and the windows were dusty. The lawn was yellowing and the oak tree in the backyard was losing its leaves. Winter was on the way.

The car shuddered to a stop, and mom and I got out. The cool October air hit me like a punch in the face, and I immediately began to shiver. I grabbed my duffel bag from the backseat, and walked around the car. Mom was talking to a grey haired lady wearing a pin striped suit. I guessed she was our real estate agent.

"… Lots of space," The real estate lady continued. I read her name tag, her name was Martha. "Could use a paint job, but hey, you two lovely ladies look like you're up to it." She smiled at me, and I looked back at her. I thought maybe I would sketch her later, only this time, with devil horns.

"Well, Brittney, what do you think?" My mom asked, putting her shoulder around my arms in her best 'I'm a great mother' impersonation. I squirmed underneath her touch. The only time she was ever kind to me was when she was high, or when we were around strangers. I shrugged, successfully answering her question, and getting her arms off me at the same time.

"It's ok." I answered, and stared at my feet. My black converse sneakers were worn through, and one of my purple socks peeped through the toe. I was anxious to just get inside the house. Make my own room, make it look like me, and stay as far away from my mother as possible. God knows she'd be drunk tonight, and I didn't want to know where that would lead.

Ignoring the real estate agent, and my mother, I walked into the door. The first scent that greeted me was dust, and I inhaled. As much as I wanted a new house, something modern, I would never fully get over the smell of wood and must and smoke. It didn't smell like home, but it smelled comfortable.

The floors were all hardwood and were polished. Whoever had lived here last may have made a wreck of the outside, but the inside was livable. The walls were a pale blue, and were trimmed with white. I traced my fingers along the painted on flowers in the doorway, and walked into the living room.

There was a large fireplace, and beside it an old T.V, and outside the window, I saw a satellite dish. Cool, we'd have internet access. I glanced at the yellowed tile floor in the kitchen and knew it'd need to be cleaned, but after that, I darted up the stairs straight away. There were three bedrooms to choose from. One of them was smaller, and the walls were painted a pale pink. It looked like it had belonged to a six year old. I hastily moved onto the next room.

The next room I knew my mother would call, even though I wanted it so bad. It had its own bathroom, and the window faced the house across the street. When I looked out the window, I saw there was a potted plant thingy hanging from the window. And I vowed to myself that I would tend to them, even if I did not get this room.

The next room was nothing special, just a large blue room with a walk in closet. I walked in and looked out the window that faced the driveway. I saw mom hand the real estate agent some papers, and then whatever her name was (Miriam?) drove away. I watched mom grab her cell phone. I guessed she was phoning the moving people, who would be here soon with our furniture. Then she grabbed her bag, and walked up the driveway.

Quickly I darted back down the stairs, and met her at the doorway. The door creaked when she opened it, and she dropped her purse on the ground. I leaned on the railing, gazing at her.

If you looked close enough, you could tell that my mother had once been beautiful. Her eyes, when they weren't red rimmed, were a pretty green blue, and her face was delicate. Her small teeth would have been perfect had they not been yellowed from years of smoking and alcohol abuse. Her body was lithe, and small. She was almost a full foot shorter than me. I was 5'9, she was 5 ft. she always dressed fashionably, or used to. Before her boyfriend took all her clothes and sold then on eBay, and replaced them with ratty second-hand clothes that would have looked skanky on a two year old.

"What 'ya staring at kid?" Mom chuckled, and I was jerked back into reality.

"You're pretty." I answered without thinking, and she looked at me and blushed.

"Now now, I uh… I hardly think- well, uhm… thanks." She finished lamely, before walking into the kitchen. I sat there and dropped my head between my knees. What an idiotic thing to say. Now she'd never let me live it down.

I decided to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"Hey mom!" I called, and she turned around the corner. I looked at her.

"Ya?" She asked. No matter how many compliments I gave her, I could tell she was impatient, jonesing to get wasted. Her body was shaking, and in that moment, I saw exactly what my mother was doing to herself. And the bad part was? She didn't seem to care. The even worse part? I was too tired to.

"There's uhm, three bedrooms upstairs. You want first pick?" I asked, and smiled at me.

"Nah, you go ahead. I'm gonna have a couple drinks." She said, and I swear she flew from the room.

On the downside? I knew my mother was dismissing me. I knew she was gonna be drunk. I knew that I'd better steer clear of her. I knew she was volatile when she was under the influence. I wanted to cry. Either she was yelling and slapping me, or she was pretending I didn't exist. And I was sick of it. I wanted to curl up in a ball and not wake up till three days from now. I didn't want to be alone that night.

On the upside? I got first pick of bedrooms.

….