You Know I Love You, Right?

Lane heard the stumbling footfalls of his intoxicated mother advance up the stairs of his house. He silently started begging to anyone who would listen for her to put herself to bed, and save him from her drunken torment. A feeling of trepidation shivered through him, hearing her approach his door rather than continue down the hall to her room. A little tap assaulted his bedroom door and it didn’t wait for an answer before slowly creaking open and giving way to his Mum’s silhouette peeping around the doorway,

“Are you still awake?” Asking as if it mattered, though he knew that whether or not he was trying to get a good night’s sleep for school the following day mattered naught. He sat up in his bed, laying down the phone he was aimlessly scrolling through beside him.

“Yes…” He answered reluctantly, wondering if he should perhaps have pretended to be asleep instead to avoid the onslaught to follow. She slithered further into his room.

“You know I love you, right?” she slurred, making Lane flinch. He wouldn’t mind these random acts of affection, if they weren’t isolated to only occur when she had had a few to drink. It gave him sense of resentment whenever she had tried to express her devotion for him, and he detested when he heard her trudge up the stairs after her nightly drink.

“Y…yeah…I know…” He answered quietly, looking awkwardly around the room and fingering a hole in his duvet to avoid looking at her.  She lurched across his room, making him turn to face her. It was too much to hope she’d leave it there.  She pulled him into a hug, the stale stench of alcohol stinging his nostrils and making him feel nauseous.

“You wouldn’t understand, it’s a love that you would only feel with your children, you’ll understand one day,” she gushed nonsensically, sending a shiver down his spine,

“I guess…hey Mum? I’m just trying to get some sleep for school tomorrow…so…” Lane managed to say through gritted teeth, trying to defuse and subtly send her away so he could get some peace. She pulled away, a look of hurt and rage tainting her reddened eyes.

“Do you not even love me?” She spat at him. Lane swallowed, doing his best not to roll his eyes or shut off completely,

“I’m sorry? I do…” He said carefully,

“Then why didn’t you say it?” She countered aggressively,

“I just didn’t think of it…” Lane replied,

“You would’ve if you loved me. It’s fine, I should go to bed,” she huffed, standing up to leave,

“No, I’m sorry for not saying it, but I do,” he attempted to gain some sort of peace, but found himself unable to say the word he wanted, feeling it hunker down in his throat and refuse to be said,

“Okay, it’s fine. I’ll let you get to bed. Goodnight,” she pursed her lips at him, giving no physical indication that she was actually content with his response. Lane ground his teeth together, lying down to make like he was going to sleep and pulling his blanket over himself before muttering out a responding goodnight, holding onto an inkling of false hope that that was the end of it. He heard her practically fall out of his room, not even bothering to shut his door, before she shunted her way into her room, making him flinch as she slammed the door behind her. He picked up his phone again and began idly scrolling through his newsfeed, but unable to concentrate as he heard her shrill voice gradually rising through the walls as she picked up an argument with his Dad. Lane could only assume that it was something to do with him, and barely held any curiosity toward what made up issue she was feuding about this time.

He tucked his phone under his pillow, and attempted to shut off to the increasingly aggressive tones, while his subconscious child curled up and covered his ears in a corner in the dark recesses of his mind. He tried to drown out the sound of bangs from things being thrown against the wall by smothering the pillow tightly over his ears, but it was useless.

He felt his heart stop in his chest as he heard the sound of their bedroom door opening, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his heart thudding in his chest. His Dad’s voice broke through the tense silence,

“He’s asleep now, what do you want me to do?!” He growled angrily,

“Just leave him, its fine! He only said he didn’t love me,” his mum called back, making Lane grit his teeth to avoid releasing his anger. Of course she would twist it to make him seem like the victim, he thought to himself.

“No, you wanted me to speak to him, so I’ll speak to him then! Lane!” He yelled as Lane made no move to awaken and satisfy his Mum’s ego, continuing with his feigned sleep.

“Well talk to him in the morning then,” his Mum attempted to divert again, and a sigh of relief escaped Lane, happy because she would likely not remember the faux argument in the morning. He heard his Dad shut his door before trudging down the hall, releasing Lane into a restless and difficult sleep, awakening at any noise as if expecting them to return to torment him further.

---

Lane was filled with a familiar sense of dread as he got himself dressed for the family function, and he found himself wondering when was the last time he went anywhere with his mother where he was actually excited to go.

“Can you just telling them that you are doing Law School or something?” She called to him, like he might suddenly change his mind if she asked incessantly. He didn’t even entertain her with answer, only rolling his eyes from the safety of his bedroom as he pulled his jeans on. He emerged from his room to the judging gaze of his mother, who trailed her eyes up and down his body with a disparaging look,

“Are you wearing that?” She asked with a less than subtle air of disgust. He looked down at his black polo shirt and blue jeans, not quite seeing what issue she had,

“What’s wrong with it?” He responded, a defeated taint in his voice as it had already been the third time she had asked him to change,

“Argh, nothing,” She rolled her eyes at him, turning on her heels to march toward the front door, “come Lane, we’re going to be late.”

Lane spent the car ride listening to music through his headphones to avoid having any form of awkward conversation or further jabs at his choice to study the creative arts, but he could still see the disapproving glares being thrown his way every now and again, no doubt to try and guilt him to change his mind about what he had chosen to study, which he chose to ignore.

They finally arrived after what seemed like an eternity in the torment of forced silence that no amount of music could fill, and his sense of relief was short lived. He stood with his Aunt and his mother, nibbling on some cake and partaking in idle conversation;

“I heard you were thinking about studying Lane! How exciting,” she asked him with genuine enthusiasm, her bright eyes sparkling at him with a sense of pride he felt he hadn’t expected,

“Actually, I’ve been accepted to study! I start in a month,” he grinned with a sense of self pride, chancing a glance at his mum who was staring daggers at him while taking large sips of her Champaign,

“What are you studying?” His Aunt asked with intrigue. The piece of cake that Lane was chewing felt suddenly dry in his mouth, and he force swallowed it down as it clung to his throat, making him cough,

“Oh, he’s just doing this little course to see if it’s what he wants to do,” his mother answered for him in between sips of her drink,

“It’s a Bachelor’s of Creative Arts. I’m hoping to be able to get some freelance experience writing while I work on my novel,” Lane added, ignoring the abashed look on his flushed mother’s face. His Aunt nodded approvingly, a smile spread across her lips,

“Wow, that sounds amazing! What is your novel about?” she asked, Lane was taken aback by the interest in his work,

“W…well, I haven’t written it, but I’m in the planning stages, it’s about –“ He started before his Mum cut in,

“It’s really nothing. He won’t get any money that way, he’s really more interested in Law School and this is just a temporary phase. Right, Lane?” She squeezed his elbow and he pulled away sharply, sending her a hateful look,

“Yeah. Sure. Law school,” he muttered with his sense of pride wounded and he felt the excitement fizzle out of his body.

When their mother finally decided it was time to go, Lane breathed easily as they left the house, until he was passed the keys,

“You’ll have to drive, I’ve had too much to drink,” she mumbled to him as he reluctantly took the keys from her,

“Would’ve been nice if you had asked me earlier, what if I had been drinking?” He retorted, not bothering to hide his annoyance as he unlocked the car,

“Well, if you didn’t go around telling everyone about your ‘bachelor’s’ degree” she air quoted with her fingers, “I wouldn’t have had so much to drink,” she criticised as she fell into the passenger side. He ripped the door open, the rage boiling his blood,

“Oh I’m so sorry I’m such an embarrassment to you! Maybe you should go and find a new son, one who will also happily be your uber,” he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. She merely rolled her eyes and rubbed her thumb and forefinger together,

“I’ll play you the world’s smallest violin! Don’t be so dramatic,” she said before lying back in her chair and closing her eyes as he started the engine.

---

Lane was relaxing on the couch, mindlessly watching some reality TV show that he wasn’t really concentrating on, when he noticed his phone screen illuminate. He picked it up and hesitated as he saw that it was his Mum trying to call him. He muted the TV and took a deep breath, preparing himself emotionally for the conversation. When he felt ready, he tapped the green answer call button.

“Hey Mum! Is everything okay?” He asked with concern,

“Can’t a mother call their son with nothing being wrong?” She chuckled to him, and he laughed nervously in response,

“No! It’s just late, I thought you would be getting ready for bed,” he admitted,

“I will be soon, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” She returned to him,

“No, not at all! I was just watching some TV,” he responded coolly,

“How was your day today? What did you get up to?” She asked with a fake sense of care, and he felt she was preparing to ask for something, but decided to ignore the pessimistic voice inside his head,

“I actually had a book signing today, can you imagine it? Me, doing a book signing!” He grinned happily to himself, still not quite believing he was a successful, published author,

“That sounds great,” his mother replied flatly, “aren’t you lucky you had us to support you?” At that comment, he heard the pessimistic voice whisper in his ear again she’s preparing to ask something, he though,

“Yes, thank you Mum, I am grateful for everything you both have done for me,” he answered carefully,

“Well, you could show me how grateful you are, I am needing some money –“ She started, but Lane interrupted her,”

“Wait, hang on. I just gave you money earlier this week, what happened to it?” He questioned her, starting to feel a little deflated,

“I had to have my haircut, so I used the money for that,” she answered sheepishly,

“All of it?” He said, not quite believing it, as it was a fair amount of money,

“I went to that nice place I used to take you to when you were a child, remember? They’re expensive, but they do a good job,” She rationalised, Lane couldn’t help by hear the naïve tone in her voice,

“You shouldn’t be spending money on things that aren’t necessary, you can get a cheaper haircut, especially if you can’t afford it,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers,

“Excuse me, I don’t need your lectures. You don’t want your Mum to look homeless, do you?” She snapped back at him,

“Well, no, but I –“ He began,

“Good. I need some money for food this week,” She cut in on him, completely ignoring his protest,

“Okay, well then let me know what you need and I’ll get it for you,” Lane countered,

“What’s the matter, don’t you trust me?” His Mum retorted, and he felt a pang of guilt as he recognised the sound of hurt in her voice, but found the truth was that he didn’t trust her. He remembered when he had given her $100 to get a birthday present for her sister, and she had spent it on alcohol instead. Part of him wondered if that is where the money had gone this time, and the pessimistic voice spoke up again she’s just using you, he thought. An uneasy feeling of irritation began to upset his stomach,

“I do, I just thought it would be easier this way,” He spoke through gritted teeth, trying to keep himself calm,

“Admit it, you don’t trust me,” she challenged him, “after everything we’ve done for you. I am your mother, and this is how you treat me? You’d nothing without me. No book, no money. You owe me this.” He found himself in his mind again, as that little boy, curled up in the dark corner of his mind with his hands over his head, and Lane had the sudden realization that he was hiding from the emotional abuse from his own mother. It was in that moment of existential dread, he felt he had had enough, and he needed to finally pick himself,

“You know what –“ He started,

“What?” she interjected, anger seeping through the phone to him,

“No, you let me speak. I have put my happiness on the back burner for you for too long. I haven’t moved to where I want to move to because I decided to stay here, for you. I haven’t travelled the world, because I’m spending my extra money on you. I haven’t been able to live my life, because I’m too busy living yours, and I’m done. This is me, breaking up with you. I pick me, don’t bother calling on me anymore. You can’t use me anymore,” without waiting for an answer, he hung up. A smile spread over his face, and he felt a sense of relief wash over him as he unmuted the TV.