Chapter 13 - Losing Control

I woke up in the morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and mom knocking impatiently on my door. I grabbed my cell off the nightstand and stared at the time. Eight o' clock. “Give me five more minutes and I promise, I’ll get up,” I growled.

Instead of going away, she knocked again. This time sounding more persistent.

If it wasn't for the fact that I wanted coffee...bad...I'd tell her to go away. But since caffeine's my favorite food group, I was kinda hoping she would bring me some liquid sustenance. Or, as I liked to call it, Happiness in a cup.

“Come in,” I croaked. Lifting my head off the pillow as she opened the door, I squinted with one eye expectantly.

Her hands were empty.

Unless she turned into a magician overnight and could suddenly make steaming hot coffee appear out of thin air, I was out of luck. I fell back on my pillow and groaned.

“Did you forget that you promised to help me today?” she asked firmly.

My breath huffed out. I pulled the covers up over my head before whatever lecture, simmering just beneath her surface, could boil over into a full-blown speech.

“I need more sleep. Come back at noon.”

“Oh, no you don’t. I need your help. I didn't let you stay home from school so you could sleep in.” She sounded way too motivated at this ungodly hour. “You’re going to get up, get dressed, because I have work for you to do. But first, you're going to come downstairs and eat a nice breakfast with your mother.”

I peeked out from under the covers. “You made breakfast?” She nodded. “You cooked two days in a row?” She nodded again. “What causes this?”

Mom laughed and patted the covers. “Get up. Don’t make me eat all by myself. Besides, we have a lot of work to do today.”

“Why can’t you pay one of your flunkies to help you, and let me sleep in for a change?” There were always kids coming around the farm, looking for work. A few even helped out on a regular basis. And that wasn't counting the other hundred or so seasonal employees.

She smiled like I'd made a joke. “Now why would I go and pay someone else when I have a perfectly good daughter who works for free?”

I scowled.

“What’s with the look?” she said, cocking an eyebrow at me.

“Duh! It’s called my face.”

“Well, tell your face to stop giving me an attitude.” She walked to the door. Hesitating with one hand on the knob, she turned around to announce, “I’ll be waiting for you downstairs. Don't get any smart ideas about going back to sleep.”

If I didn't get out of bed, the grim of it all was that she would just keep coming back to annoy me until I did.

Irritated, I kicked off the covers as soon as the door clicked shut. I didn't have a clue why I liked to give her such a hard time. Sometimes it just came naturally. Like breathing.

It had always been the two of us for as long as I could remember. She never mentioned my dad and after talking to Thomas, I knew why. It was almost as if he never existed at all because, truth be told, he hadn't contributed much to the gene pool. I was a carbon copy of my mom. She had the same red hair, pale skin, and light green eyes flecked with gold. Well, we used to have the same color of eyes.

Other than that, we were the exact same height. We could also wear each others clothes, with just one tiny exception. We didn't share the same fashion sense. I only wore dark colors, while my mom preferred pastels and anything pink. She would so love Carmen’s room.

I begrudgingly decided to get dressed. Picking through a pile of clothes on the floor, I decided on a pair of jeans with holes in both knees and pulled on a dark gray T-shirt. I found one of my favorite flannel shirts wadded up in a ball in my dresser and tied it around my waist. Combing my hair, I pulled it back into a high pony tail, shoved my feet in a ratty pair of Nikes with no laces, and stomped downstairs.

This morning I was definitely not in the mood for my mother's questions, but there was no postponing the inevitable.

She poured us both freshly brewed cups of coffee.

“Good morning,” she announced, handing me my favorite purple mug.

The coffee smelled delicious. “Thanks,” I mumbled, blowing on the hot liquid before taking a sip. We both drank it exactly the same way, so I already knew it had lots and lots of sugar with extra cinnamon hazelnut creamer. Perfection.

She smiled serenely. “Your welcome.”

My mom was the only person I knew who could actually smile with her eyes.

I looked at the spread on the table as I sat down. “Wow, why did you make so much?” There was enough food to feed a small army.

She shrugged. “I didn't know what you would be hungry for, so I made it all. There’s bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, pancakes and hash browns,” she said, listing off each thing. I picked up a plate and filled it up with a little bit of everything.

Mom sat down across from me and did the same thing. I could tell she'd worked hard to surprise me with breakfast and I felt bad for being so grumpy.

Before I had a chance to apologize, she launched into another round of fifty bazillion questions.

“What is Carmen like? Is she nice? What did you girls do at her house? Did you have fun? Have you made any other plans to get together? Why don't you invite her to come over some time?”

I nodded without answering and kept right on eating, pausing only to drink my coffee.

“Would it kill you to talk to me, Chaos?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

“No, mom. Carmen's cool,” I answered with an eye roll, shoving a huge piece of bacon in my mouth.

“And?” she said, drawing out the word.

“And she’s nice.” I didn't bother to swallow.

“Quit talking with your mouth full.”

I enjoyed my breakfast in peace and quiet, but only until she finished her coffee and launched into a whole new series of questions.

I knew the silence was too good to be true.

“I just want to know how you're doing, Chaos, so catch me up. How's school?”

“It sucks.”

“How are your grades?”

“They suck.”

She gave a sigh. “How's your gym teacher? I hear he can be ruthless. Is he as bad as everyone says?”

“He sucks.”

She looked insulted. “Does everything suck?”

I nodded. “Pretty much.” It was my turn to be frustrated. “What do you want from me? A play-by-play?”

“I just feel like I haven't talked to you in such a long time.”

“And who's fault is that?” I said, raising my voice. “You're never home anymore now that Gram and Gramps have retired to Florida. When I do see you occasionally in passing, you're too busy to be bothered with me. Geez mom, what do you expect?”

She blinked in surprise. “I expect to have a civil conversation with my daughter.”

“Then stop asking me so many questions and try letting me eat for a change.” I had no idea where the all hostility was coming from, but I suddenly lost my appetite and started pushing the food on my plate around with my fork.

“I'm sorry. I just wanted to spend time with you. Maybe I should have let you sleep in.”

“Ya think!” I said bitterly.

“Calm down, Chaos. Why are you getting so upset?”

I slammed my fork on the table. One of my biggest pet-peeves was being told to calm down.

“I can't do this right now.” I started to stand up and when I glanced down at my plate in anger – it slid along the entire length of the table, launching across the room in a movement that was almost too fast to follow, and blew a hole clean through the dinning room wall like a torpedo.

I was so shocked I couldn't speak. Unable to meet my mom's frozen stare I bolted outside, eventually ending up in the old barn.