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Description
Drunk

     Tick...Tick...Tick...
Lola checked the clock on the wall. It was 11:57 at night, and her mom still wasn’t home. As usual, she had gone to the bar with her friends. Lola didn’t mind so much that her mom went out on Fridays, it was how late she stayed out, and the state she always came home in that bugged her. She couldn’t remember this much anxiety since her father had left when she was a child. Lola had stayed up for hours waiting for him to come home, but he never did.
     Finally, she heard fumbling at the door. Jumping up out of her chair, she wrenched open the door to find her mother, weaving slightly, holding her keys. She was drunk again.
     “Get in here.” said Lola in a flat voice that showed no emotion. Her mother stepped over the threshold, stumbled, and regained her balance. Still weaving, she sat down in the chair Lola had been waiting in.
     “Did you eat anything tonight?” She asked. Lola didn’t answer. She didn’t like talking to her mother when she was drunk. Maria pulled out a container from the microwave, and out it in front of her mother along with a fork. Her mother ate her dinner and still tried to strike up a conversation with her daughter. She was in the middle of a rant about how one of her friends had passed out at the bar when Lolas’ anger boiled over.
     “Where the hell were you?!” She barked. Lolas’ mother sat speechless.
     “I was out with my pals at the bar. You know that.” She said.
     “Only for the first two hours! I called later to ask if you were okay, and they told my you had left! I thought you said you’d be home by ten!” Yelled Lola. “Do you have any idea how scared I was? I thought you had crashed on the highway or something!”
     “Well, I didn’t. I’m fine see?” said Lolas’ mother.
     “No mom, you aren’t fine! You’re drunk out of your mind, you can barely see straight, and you’re killing yourself! What the hell are you playing at?” Her mother dodged the subject.
     “You didn’t drink any of the milk in the fridge did you? That stuff’s gone bad, you’ll make yourself sick.”
     “Don’t start preaching to me about my habits when you go out almost every night and get drunk!” yelled Lola. Her mother grew angry.
     “Don’t you take that tone with me!” She barked. “I’m your mother! And if I want to drink, I’ll drink!” All of Lolas’ pent up anger at her mother had reached its breaking point.
     “Yeah, some mother! Going out, getting drunk, spending all our money on cigarettes and booze. And you wonder why we have a hard time paying the bills!” Lola screamed. Her mother stood up, trying to be imposing, which wasn’t working because Lola was at least half a head taller than her mother.
     “I work my butt off for you! I deserve a little down time once in a while!” roared Lolas’ mother.
     “Yeah, but once in a while isn’t every night. Or have you killed off too many brain cells to remember that? It’s no surprise dad left, you--”
     SMACK!
Lola stood there, dumbfounded. Her mothers’ hand was poised to slap her again.
     “Don’t you dare talk about him! He left us because he was a deadbeat!” She screeched. Lola raised a hand to her stinging cheek. Her mother had never struck her before. Lola had never felt so scared of her mother as she was now. Her mother stared at her hand in shock.
     “Lola, sweetie, you know I didn’t mean to...” She said, all the fire gone from her now. She reached out to touch Lolas’ arm. Lola flinched and backed away. Quickly dashing through the hall and into her room, she shut and locked the door. Leaning against it, she slid down to the floor and let the tears come.
     It was over three hours later when Lola finally came out. She had a suitcase in one hand, and a sleeping back in the other. Her mother was sitting at the table with her head in her hands. At the sound of Lolas’ footsteps, she looked up.
     “Lola, I-” She started.
     “Save it.” said Lola. “You need help mom. I’ve been thinking about it for months, and I really think you need to go to an AA meeting or something. I’m going over to stay at Tiffanys’ until you’re cured. Call me when you go to the first meeting.” and with that, Lola walked out the door, into the pouring rain that had begun to fall.
     It was a full three years before Lola got the call from her mother. But it had come too late. By the time her mother had gone to the meeting, her liver had already been halfway through shutting down. It was diagnosed two days later. She was put on the transplant list, but never got the new liver she needed. She died six months later of liver failure. Lola didn’t come to the funeral.

Description
Drunk

     Tick...Tick...Tick...
Lola checked the clock on the wall. It was 11:57 at night, and her mom still wasn’t home. As usual, she had gone to the bar with her friends. Lola didn’t mind so much that her mom went out on Fridays, it was how late she stayed out, and the state she always came home in that bugged her. She couldn’t remember this much anxiety since her father had left when she was a child. Lola had stayed up for hours waiting for him to come home, but he never did.
     Finally, she heard fumbling at the door. Jumping up out of her chair, she wrenched open the door to find her mother, weaving slightly, holding her keys. She was drunk again.
     “Get in here.” said Lola in a flat voice that showed no emotion. Her mother stepped over the threshold, stumbled, and regained her balance. Still weaving, she sat down in the chair Lola had been waiting in.
     “Did you eat anything tonight?” She asked. Lola didn’t answer. She didn’t like talking to her mother when she was drunk. Maria pulled out a container from the microwave, and out it in front of her mother along with a fork. Her mother ate her dinner and still tried to strike up a conversation with her daughter. She was in the middle of a rant about how one of her friends had passed out at the bar when Lolas’ anger boiled over.
     “Where the hell were you?!” She barked. Lolas’ mother sat speechless.
     “I was out with my pals at the bar. You know that.” She said.
     “Only for the first two hours! I called later to ask if you were okay, and they told my you had left! I thought you said you’d be home by ten!” Yelled Lola. “Do you have any idea how scared I was? I thought you had crashed on the highway or something!”
     “Well, I didn’t. I’m fine see?” said Lolas’ mother.
     “No mom, you aren’t fine! You’re drunk out of your mind, you can barely see straight, and you’re killing yourself! What the hell are you playing at?” Her mother dodged the subject.
     “You didn’t drink any of the milk in the fridge did you? That stuff’s gone bad, you’ll make yourself sick.”
     “Don’t start preaching to me about my habits when you go out almost every night and get drunk!” yelled Lola. Her mother grew angry.
     “Don’t you take that tone with me!” She barked. “I’m your mother! And if I want to drink, I’ll drink!” All of Lolas’ pent up anger at her mother had reached its breaking point.
     “Yeah, some mother! Going out, getting drunk, spending all our money on cigarettes and booze. And you wonder why we have a hard time paying the bills!” Lola screamed. Her mother stood up, trying to be imposing, which wasn’t working because Lola was at least half a head taller than her mother.
     “I work my butt off for you! I deserve a little down time once in a while!” roared Lolas’ mother.
     “Yeah, but once in a while isn’t every night. Or have you killed off too many brain cells to remember that? It’s no surprise dad left, you--”
     SMACK!
Lola stood there, dumbfounded. Her mothers’ hand was poised to slap her again.
     “Don’t you dare talk about him! He left us because he was a deadbeat!” She screeched. Lola raised a hand to her stinging cheek. Her mother had never struck her before. Lola had never felt so scared of her mother as she was now. Her mother stared at her hand in shock.
     “Lola, sweetie, you know I didn’t mean to...” She said, all the fire gone from her now. She reached out to touch Lolas’ arm. Lola flinched and backed away. Quickly dashing through the hall and into her room, she shut and locked the door. Leaning against it, she slid down to the floor and let the tears come.
     It was over three hours later when Lola finally came out. She had a suitcase in one hand, and a sleeping back in the other. Her mother was sitting at the table with her head in her hands. At the sound of Lolas’ footsteps, she looked up.
     “Lola, I-” She started.
     “Save it.” said Lola. “You need help mom. I’ve been thinking about it for months, and I really think you need to go to an AA meeting or something. I’m going over to stay at Tiffanys’ until you’re cured. Call me when you go to the first meeting.” and with that, Lola walked out the door, into the pouring rain that had begun to fall.
     It was a full three years before Lola got the call from her mother. But it had come too late. By the time her mother had gone to the meeting, her liver had already been halfway through shutting down. It was diagnosed two days later. She was put on the transplant list, but never got the new liver she needed. She died six months later of liver failure. Lola didn’t come to the funeral.