‘Til Morning Come
It’s absurd that she should have to make dinner after working all day long. Slave all day at work, slave over a hot stove at home. How extremely trite.
“Mom?”
She spun around, startled, and dropped the lid she was holding.
“Jesus Christ, Adam!”
“I’m sorry,” he said, bending down to retrieve the fallen lid and immediately washing it in the sink before returning it to her. He did not want her to yell at him again.
“And how many times do I have to tell you not to call me ‘mom’ anymore? It’s just so… unnatural.”
She didn’t notice the look that stole across her adopted son’s face, the look that spoke all too clearly of the knot growing ever tighter in his heart.
“Call me Jan, or Janice, or Miss Butler, anything but mom.”
“Okay, J-Jan,” he said, the word rolling off his tongue like bricks. “There’s—er—something I want to talk to you about, something I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you about for a while now—”
“I don’t have time right now,” Jan said, turning her attention back to the stove. “Don’t you see I’m busy? Can’t this wait ‘til later?”
The knot tightened even more.
“Yeah, sure thin—”
“Mommy, mommy!” cried a little girl as she came speeding into the kitchen.
Jan’s face lit up. “Hi, baby!”
She reached down and grabbed her daughter, lifting her up in a great hug.
“Guess what!”
“What?” Jan said.
“I just finished drawing a unicorn! Come see!”
The little girl’s face was stretched to its limit with excitement, and Jan reflected that in her own face.
“A unicorn? Wow, mommy’s definitely got to see this!”
She carried her daughter across the kitchen.
“Watch dinner for a minute, Adam,” she said to the boy. She didn’t notice the tears snaking down his cheeks.
When she came back into the kitchen a few minutes later, Adam stole past her without saying a word, head bowed down so as not to look at her. He did not want her to see him crying.
Why can’t he just start dinner for her? He’s old enough now, and going to school isn’t anywhere near as stressful as working full-time. She would have to remember to add that to his list of daily chores.
Jan let her eyes close for the briefest of moments. She was becoming tired earlier and earlier these days. What with holding down a job, looking after the boy and her daughter, and having a useless prick of an ex-husband, it was amazing she was able to stay awake at all. Thirteen-years-old is certainly old enough to take on some extra responsibilities around the house.
She stirred the contents of the pots one more time before turning into the living room and falling heavily onto the sofa. This was definitely her favorite place to be, curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, the newest Nora Roberts novel clutched in her hand. Of course, she didn’t have a book now; she had read them all already. If she couldn’t have love in life, then at least she could read about it.
The painting on the wall started to twist and melt in places. Jan blinked her eyes furiously, trying to get rid of the sleep before it overpowered her. She still needed to be up for several hours yet, finishing dinner, cleaning the bathroom, writing out some bills. Maybe she should just tell Adam to clean the bathroom. Being a boy, he was surly the dirtiest of them all, so why should she have to clean up after him? He probably misses the toilet when he pees, and there she is, on her hands and knees, cleaning it up. No, she would definitely have to add that to his chore list as well. How utterly disgusting.
The world turned black as her eyelids shut, and when she reopened them, she was sitting at a large, oval table. And she was not alone.