Convincing Constance (The Blow Hole Boys)(2)

By: Tabatha Vargo







Addiction is a whore. She pulls you in with her sexiness and fearsome pheromones and then leaves you with a nasty set of blue balls that ache and beg for more. I’ve watched too many people fall to her seductive ways, including my parents, and I was determined to never let the lusty bitch get her claws in me.

There were times when I wanted to indulge in the things that cleared my mind of all the crap that was spinning around me, but every time I even considered falling prey to the moment, I’d remember my childhood. I’d remember the night I was drugged and had no control over my body. I’d remember his smell and the helplessness I felt.

Then I’d think about my father and all the memories I had of him and his nose candy, or I’d think of my mom and the bags that hung beneath her eyes every morning when she woke up with a hangover, or her medicine cabinet full of prescriptions she didn’t need.

Needless to say, when Shay passed me a tiny mirror with three white lines down it and a rolled-up dollar bill, I passed.

“Oh, come on, Constance. One line won’t kill you,” Shay said before she leaned down and sucked a line up her nose.

Her choppy blue hair hung in her blue eyes as she leaned down, covering them and her thin-rimmed glasses completely. My eyes caught on her chipped fingernails and I couldn’t help but think they fit her perfectly.

“Yeah, I think I’m good,” I said as I stood and walked away.

I’d only been living with KC and Shay for a week, but already I was getting annoyed with the drugs that circulated around them. It was like no one knew how to live without something swimming in their veins other than blood.

Stepping outside into the dry California heat, I pulled out my beat-up prepaid cell and checked my voicemails. The first one I came to was my mom screaming in my ear. Apparently, I’d left some of my “shit” at “home” and needed to pick it up before it was sold. I dreaded going back there and dealing with my mom’s drama, but I didn’t have a lot, and I wanted to keep everything that was mine.

The drive across to the better side of town was too quick. I debated stopping, and even turning around, but it had to be done. I needed to get my things and be done with that house—with the memories that ate me alive every day.

When I got there, the house was dark. There were imprints on the floor where old furniture used to be and squares on the walls where the paint looked fresh from being covered by expensive art pieces my parents collected.

It was all being sold, all of it, and the sad part was I wasn’t depressed to see it all go.

I stepped into my mom’s favorite room. She was perched on the couch with her feet tucked beneath her. With lazy bloodshot eyes she stared at the TV. She had at least a bottle of liquor and a few pills swimming around her gut already and it was only two in the afternoon.

Growing up, I longed for a mother-daughter relationship, but she always hated me. Dad used to say it was because I stole her good looks and curvy figure. And as sick as it sounded, there were times when I sensed her jealousy of my youth. Where she had wrinkles, I had smooth skin, and where her stomach had grown throughout the years, mine was flat. What she didn’t realize was her liquor and pills had more to do with her failing looks than I did.

“Take that fucking thing out your nose,” she slurred when I approached the couch. “It looks like a silver booger hanging out of your nostril. Get some class, Constance.”

She hadn’t seen my newest piercing since I’d moved out, but I knew when I was getting it done that she’d put her two cents in about it. She usually did. My mom never lacked for cruel words, and since I’d grown up around her bullshit, I was immune to it.

“Yeah, thanks,” I mumbled.

“Your Uncle Jack’s moving in,” she blurted out, stopping me in my tracks.

I’d known for a while that my mom was fucking Jack. It was repulsive. It was beyond repulsive. Just thinking about that night and him… I couldn’t even respond. I’d moved out when she confirmed her affair, which was apparently the best thing I could’ve done because hell would freeze over before I slept under the same roof as that sick, perverted piece of shit.

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