Follando A Mi Madre Borracha Novels & Stories

"Wasn't Erwin running a fever? Maybe we should let him sleep in the bed." "No!" my mom shouted firmly. "He's just a lazy brat. I'm not letting him off that easily. He couldn't even memorize 500 words, and now he's lying on the floor pretending to be dead, hoping we'll feel sorry for him! "Look at today's evaluation... He didn't memorize a single word. This is absolutely ridiculous!" After saying that, my mom glanced at the wet marks on the floor and frowned in disgust. "You can call yourself my son again when you're done cleaning up these disgusting stains of yours!"

Soon, Dad passed out, his face pale. But Mom was unaware of it. She seemed to be in a state of paranoia, thinking that she could only win back Dad's love by doing this. I sat on the bed, quietly feeling everything that happened. Until the end, I didn't make any calls for help. After all, it was nothing but karma. They got what they deserved. It was only when Mom snapped out of her mania that she hurriedly acted. Blood had dripped from the bed and formed a small puddle. When she stepped on it, she even stumbled from the slipperiness.

A violent torrent of icy wind ruffles the curtains behind her as the spirit rips free of that rapidly declining vessel, the woman who is actually my mother… She slumps forward over the table, eyes bleary and distant. “Fucking... hangover,” she mutters, clutching at her head. “I need another drink.” She looks over at me. “Nicorati?” She seems to have trouble even recognizing me. “Be a good boy and fetch your mother a double. How ’bout it?” I fill a glass with tap water and set it firmly down in front of her. She scowls. “No fucking respect in these kids.”

My mother is dying and everyone kept it away from Jason and me. If I go back there now and I see him I might go crazy that's why I'm deciding to stay here and let out all my anger and frustration. Why I don't understand we are their children and we deserved to know that we are going to lose our mother before anyone else did. My mother, I can't believe I'm going to lose her. Tonight when she fainted it felt that a part of me was being ripped out when she didn't respond. I made my way through the people back to the bar to get another shot. Dancing made me thirsty and all this heat with the people on the dance floor didn't exactly help.

“You know you shouldn’t drink much, in case your beast gets ideas.” “Fuck him,” I say, tipping my glass back and swallowing the amber liquor in one go. Fuck, that feels amazing. You know what, maybe if I’m drunk enough, the asshole inside my head, inside my body, will not be able to make use of me. “Want to talk about it?” Levi offers. Where would I even begin? That story from my mother was the most ridiculous shit I’ve ever heard. And while a part of me wants to insist she was bullshitting me, there’s another part that knows she wasn’t.

Can't process what I'm seeing. My mother. My mother who left two years ago and hasn't contacted us since. My mother who chose wine over her family, who chose escape over staying, who chose anything over us. My mother who is now standing drunk in the middle of my university campus, screaming my father's name, falling apart in front of everyone I know. "He did this!" She gestures wildly with the bottle. "Your father—Jesse—he ruined everything! He—" "Mom, please." I step forward, my hands raised like I'm approaching a wild animal. "Please, let's just—let's go somewhere quiet and talk, okay? We can—"

Given our relationship, I couldn’t blame others for expecting that. “Amor?” Mother was still waiting for me in the living hall. She never slept until I returned home. No matter how many times I told her not to do that, she never listened. But it felt warm to have someone waiting for me when I returned. Her expressions turned frenzied. “Hikari? Oh, my! What happened to him? Did you…” she gasped. Oh God! Not mother as well. I sighed. “He’s drunk, mother. Passed out on the beach, I was passing by and saw him… so I brought him in,” I said.

She reached for the one in my hand, gripped it firmly, and pulled it away. "Stay away from me and give that back to me." I slurred, my voice thick and jagged with hurt as I went for the bottle but Mother threw it farther away, reeking more alcohol in the room. "I'm not leaving you here," She insisted, kneeling beside me. She tried carrying me up, but my weight was too much for her shoulder and we both ended up wobbling back to the floor. I let out a bitter trembling laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Just get away from me mother, I don't want you." My head fell into my knees and for a moment I shook.

“I won’t.” I turn and walk out before she can say anything else and head straight to the bar. The bar is dim, loud and perfect just what I need. “Whiskey on the rocks,” I say, "and keep the tab open." I just start taking the shots and by the fourth one, the noise around me starts to blur. “You should listen to your mother.” My grip tightens around the glass. “We are not the same.” I signal for another drink. “You belong with people like Moraa.”

I can’t even manage myself properly, so how can I be a father to a little one? I’m feeling lost; I need to figure out what to do and how to escape this situation. I couldn’t resist; I needed a drink, and a strong one at that. I drive home and consume enough alcohol to get tipsy and clear my head. I needed it to think. "Diego, when did you return, and what are you doing !" I look at my mother, who is shouting at me. I’m baffled by how she got here and into my house.