T-Bone - L. Wilder Page 0,70
a break-up. Women go through this kind of thing all the time. You need to pick yourself up and stop behaving like your world is ending.”
“I know that’s what I should do, but—”
“No buts!” She pointed her finger towards my bedroom. “Go in there, take a shower, put on some makeup, and at least put a little effort into starting your day off right.”
“I will. Can I at least finish my coffee first?”
“Yes, you can finish your coffee.” She dried her hands with a dish towel, then walked over to me with a troubled expression. “Maybe you should go see a doctor.”
“Mom, there’s no magic pill that’s going to suddenly make me feel better.”
“You never know … You could have a vitamin deficiency or something.”
“I doubt it.” Going to the doctor wasn’t the worst idea. I had several things going on that should’ve been addressed, but I didn’t have the time or the energy to mess with making an appointment and physically taking myself to one. “Besides, with my crazy work schedule, I don’t have time to go to the doctor right now.”
“Well, if this thing with your depression continues, I’m going to insist that you go.” She picked up the TV remote and turned on the small television that Beckett had mounted on the wall next to the refrigerator. The second it came on, the news popped up on the screen. As usual, the local reporter was talking about all the recent gang violence that had erupted throughout the city. It seemed like they’d all decided at once to have this crazy uprising and were causing all kinds of mayhem in the projects. Mom shook her head and sighed. “It’s bad enough that I have to worry about your mental state, but with all this going on, I have to worry about your safety too. Hmph ... It’s just not right.”
“You don’t have to worry about my welfare. I’m perfectly safe here.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have to worry so much if I knew your brother was checking in on you, but you had to go and tell him to—”
“Mom, you know my reasons for telling him to give me my space.”
I hadn’t told her about that night and what I’d seen. I simply explained that I didn’t want to have to depend on Clay all the time, that I needed to figure things out on my own and have a little privacy, but I couldn’t do that with him always around. She didn’t like it, but I think a part of her understood—or so I thought.
“Well, you could still let him check in on you from time to time. If for no other reason than to make your mother feel better.”
“It’s not like I don’t ever talk to him, Mom. We talk on the phone and—”
“It’s not the same and you know it, but I won’t push. I’ll leave it at that.” She leaned forward, peering down at my empty coffee cup. “Looks like it’s time for you to hit the shower.”
“You’re like my own personal drill sergeant.”
“Alyssa.”
“Fine.” I stood up and started out of the room. “I’ll go get ready. I’ll even put on makeup, but it’s not going to make me feel any better.”
“Yes, it will!”
I didn’t bother arguing. Instead, I went to my room, closed the door, and collapsed on the bed. I lay there for a few minutes, contemplating my life, and after several minutes of drowning in my sorrows, I pulled myself off the bed and went to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, and after I undressed, glanced at myself in the mirror. What a complete disaster. My hair was tangled, there were big dark circles under my eyes, and even though I hadn’t been eating much, it looked like I was gaining weight. As I stood there staring at myself, I decided my mother was right. I needed to start taking better care of myself, stop all the moping, and get a little exercise before I swelled up like a balloon. With a newfound resolve, I took a shower, put on a bit of makeup, and even fixed my hair. I had to admit, once I was dressed, I looked pretty decent.
I grabbed my purse and keys, and the second I stepped out of my room, my mother gasped and said, “You look great!”
“Thanks, Mom.” I gave her a slight smile and said, “You were right. I do feel a little better.”
“I knew you would.” She reached over and gave me a