Barbie Girl (Baby Doll Series) Read Online Free
Author: Heidi Acosta
of liquor. I would drag her limp body to the bedroom, undressing her out of her clothes that were covered in vomit. No matter how many bottles I poured down the drain, or pills I flushed, my mother would still find more. I tried crying and pleading with her to stop but she never seemed to think that she had a problem, making me question my sanity, sometimes I would believe momma’s words that it was all in my head. That she didn’t have a problem.
Giving up was one of the hardest things I did, but I had to focus on Everett and I. Momma’s problem sometimes makes me do things that make me feel wrong and sick. But I need to put food in our mouths, and keep a roof over both our heads. So now when I find her passed out, I search her pockets taking whatever cash she has, stashing it in my bra. Because when she wakes shaking and sick needing to get high she will search high and low to scrounge up enough to get a few pills or a bottle. She will do anything for that high. She cannot help it. The drink has a tight hold on her no matter how hard she fights it, it just holds on tighter. It is in her blood.
We don’t have anything of value. Those things are long gone, sold for a few dollars. You have to do what you have to do. Seeing my mother destroy herself kills me, I wish she could numb her pain that caused her to sink this low.
My mother’s ribs stick out as she stands next to me her robe exposing her white bra and underwear hanging loose on her hip bones that jut out. “Let me make you something to eat,” I offer.
She sometimes will not eat for days filled up on liquor. I pull out a pot and the last box of macaroni and cheese. Momma sits and starts rubbing her temples. “I don’t want any food. I just got this damn headache,” she says her hand shaking bringing the glass of brown liquid to her mouth. “I ran out of my pills and you know how my headaches get. I don’t mean to snap at you. I know you mean well.”
I take a deep breath, and pour the box of noodles in the pot placing it on the stove. “I know Momma.”
There is no milk so I add some extra butter to the powder cheese trying to smooth out the lumps. I fill three bowls and we eat silently, absentmindedly pushing around the buttery noodles. Each lost in our own tormented world. “So how is my baby doing?” Her hands are steadier now; she reaches over taking Everett’s hand in hers. An ever present ache grows in my chest because Everett starts to make happy noises. Not words but sounds; a sound that brings a smile to her face. Even though he cannot put it into words, he wants my mother as much as I do, and I hurt for him.
After dinner my mother gets ready and leaves for work, leaving me and Everett home alone. I wash our dishes and wipe down the counter. Then I help Everett bathe and get ready for bed before I read to him his favorite book, Green Eggs and Ham , twice, before tucking him in.
After changing into a pair of old sweat pants and a tank top. I pull out my own homework and attempt to get some studying in, but my eyes burn and I cannot keep them open.
* * *
A light pours in from the broken slats of the blinds wakening me. I check on Everett. He is still asleep, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, even in sleep he is silent. I next check my mother’s room, empty. Bed still made with the thin floral comforter, her perfume and make up lined up from smallest to largest sit on her chipped bureau. A picture of her when she was young hangs from the mirror. She must have stayed out after her shift. She does this often, not coming, so I am not worried about her, but this means that she will come home with no money again.
I need to get ready for school. I decide to take my shower before waking Everett. Peeling off my sweats I turn on the shower as hot as I can, letting the bathroom steam up before slipping in the yellowing bath tub. Today I am going to try to get Katie to notice Dylan. How in the hell am I going to do that? Because as far as I
Giving up was one of the hardest things I did, but I had to focus on Everett and I. Momma’s problem sometimes makes me do things that make me feel wrong and sick. But I need to put food in our mouths, and keep a roof over both our heads. So now when I find her passed out, I search her pockets taking whatever cash she has, stashing it in my bra. Because when she wakes shaking and sick needing to get high she will search high and low to scrounge up enough to get a few pills or a bottle. She will do anything for that high. She cannot help it. The drink has a tight hold on her no matter how hard she fights it, it just holds on tighter. It is in her blood.
We don’t have anything of value. Those things are long gone, sold for a few dollars. You have to do what you have to do. Seeing my mother destroy herself kills me, I wish she could numb her pain that caused her to sink this low.
My mother’s ribs stick out as she stands next to me her robe exposing her white bra and underwear hanging loose on her hip bones that jut out. “Let me make you something to eat,” I offer.
She sometimes will not eat for days filled up on liquor. I pull out a pot and the last box of macaroni and cheese. Momma sits and starts rubbing her temples. “I don’t want any food. I just got this damn headache,” she says her hand shaking bringing the glass of brown liquid to her mouth. “I ran out of my pills and you know how my headaches get. I don’t mean to snap at you. I know you mean well.”
I take a deep breath, and pour the box of noodles in the pot placing it on the stove. “I know Momma.”
There is no milk so I add some extra butter to the powder cheese trying to smooth out the lumps. I fill three bowls and we eat silently, absentmindedly pushing around the buttery noodles. Each lost in our own tormented world. “So how is my baby doing?” Her hands are steadier now; she reaches over taking Everett’s hand in hers. An ever present ache grows in my chest because Everett starts to make happy noises. Not words but sounds; a sound that brings a smile to her face. Even though he cannot put it into words, he wants my mother as much as I do, and I hurt for him.
After dinner my mother gets ready and leaves for work, leaving me and Everett home alone. I wash our dishes and wipe down the counter. Then I help Everett bathe and get ready for bed before I read to him his favorite book, Green Eggs and Ham , twice, before tucking him in.
After changing into a pair of old sweat pants and a tank top. I pull out my own homework and attempt to get some studying in, but my eyes burn and I cannot keep them open.
* * *
A light pours in from the broken slats of the blinds wakening me. I check on Everett. He is still asleep, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, even in sleep he is silent. I next check my mother’s room, empty. Bed still made with the thin floral comforter, her perfume and make up lined up from smallest to largest sit on her chipped bureau. A picture of her when she was young hangs from the mirror. She must have stayed out after her shift. She does this often, not coming, so I am not worried about her, but this means that she will come home with no money again.
I need to get ready for school. I decide to take my shower before waking Everett. Peeling off my sweats I turn on the shower as hot as I can, letting the bathroom steam up before slipping in the yellowing bath tub. Today I am going to try to get Katie to notice Dylan. How in the hell am I going to do that? Because as far as I
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