I'm not going to sleep. I know Lauren isn't; I can hear her clacking away on the computer. Jesus H. Christ, my home is so messed up. It's so messed up that I can't even see out the window, cos it's dirty, bird crap streaks decades old are splattered all over the outside. I look closer, to the corner with a spiderweb crack that spreads upward. Ugh, Jesus Christ. Mom.....
"Mom. What the hell are you doing in my room?"
" Patricia. Patricia. I never wanted a Patricia...I wanted Julian! My baby....my baby.....why is he gone? WHY DID I LOSE HIM AND GET YOU, you horrible little girl?"
My room was trashed.Mommy was tearing it to pieces.
"THIS IS HIS ROOM!"
Mommy broke the window with my tea party chair.
I remember the story Lauren told me, how everything was perfect before Mom was sick, how they had a perfect family with Mom, a Dad, Lauren, and a baby on the way.
Then Mom lost the baby, then Mom got pregnant again and had me.
Then Dad left her. He couldn't bear to stay attached to little tiny me while Mom was a wreck.
Lauren says Mom refused to name me, so she did, at 6 years old. She'd been saving Patricia for someone really special, not just a doll or an imaginary friend.
She said Patricia was the most beautiful name in the world.
I light another cigarette and flounce on my allergenic bed. Another night of insomnia. I can only pretend that Max is in my bed tonight.
How I wish he was.