I spent weeks crying, and all the while Mom kept telling me to toughen up. There was no talk of school thanks to the situation. After I turned eight, Mom started leaving me in the house on my own in the evenings. She'd often come back smelling strongly of drink and a slight touch of aftershave. In the morning she rang in sick, spent the day 'recovering', then she would do the same that night.
After another three months she was fired, so she decided to move to Blue Skies. She then worked at Worn In to hang clothes up in the changing rooms, still going out and drinking in the evening, often returning to work hungover. She carried on with this routine for two years. When Granny caught wind of it, she was furious with Mom, but not me. I started living with her just in time. I'd often go back to pick up clothes and find needles scattered on the floor along with beer bottles. So for a year until Granny died, I lived with her.
-----------------------------------------------------
"Would you like one my dear?" Said Grandma, shakily offering me a party sized apple pie. "No thanks" I mumbled, cracking my knuckles and grinding my teeth. She put it back and turned to face me "Edgar," she said sternly. I faced her.
She had the tone which said 'listen or I'll kick your ass'. She squeezed my shoulder and gave me that warm smile she wore so well. It suddenly turned into strained discomfort "Your mother is a selfish stuck-up cow, t' be quite honest with ya'. I didn't want ya' Dad to mix with a blue blood, 'cause most marriges end up like this. I 'spose your mother is feeding ya' complete nonsense, hopin' money will fly through the front door? But listen to me Edgar, even if ya' never listen again," she said, her warm hazel eyes matching the new soft smile she wore so well.
Her hands cupped my face as she looked me in the eyes, very softly saying "Ya'r the best thing tha's happened to this Munsen family. You've seen the disaster happening these past few years, so ya' know more than anyone what the story is. And you know it isn't a fairytale. But believe me boy, you have a purpose. And before I flop onto my deathbed promise me this. Atleast try to be better than ya' momma n' poppa? By that I don't get a fancy house and pay cheque an' all tha' business. I mean make ya'self stable, happy, and never put ya' family through crap like these two 'ave, alrigh'?" She said, waiting for me to answer.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
