(10:03:04 PM) wiseguysupreme4: OK.
(10:07:52 PM) wiseguysupreme4: Stop being angry.
(10:11:55 PM) romanticocabrita: No!

Because, basically, I can't.

I get in the SUV, and Logan gets in the other side. Mum turns the music up too loud--The Talking Heads, no less (which I don't have a problem with, but Logan might).

This, for some reason, makes me angry. Generally, then, she was making me angry, just by the vibe I was getting from her. It was too flippant...the aura she was sending off was one of too much care-freeness for my mother.

But I ignored it, hoping she was just happy about having a good job and just taking the pets on a walk.

We pulled out into the street, and as we rode along, the music got higher. She got more obnoxious. When I told her to turn the music down (because I have really sensitive ears, and can't tolerate most loud volumes, much less high pitches), she ignored me and turned it up more. Either that, or she wasn't conscious of the world around her.

We took the normal turns around the neighborhood, and soon we were at Logan's house, safely. I breathed. Maybe things were alright, after all. She turned down the music once he was out of the car and she was pulling away.

I missed him already, realizing what was going on.

"Did you have a good time?" she slurred.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to ignore the bumps in the road, concentrating on a good thought, hoping I'd be left from this to have more good thoughts, praying we'd get home safely.

"That's good."

Before I could say anything else, the music was ripped up to a horrifyingly high, obnoxious volume. She started singing along; I wanted to open a window to maybe get rid of the overwhelming blasting in my ears, to let some of my frustration blow away in the cold wind.

But, she had her window open, and I could feel the chill settling in over the car's heated leather seats. Listening in pain for a few minutes sounded better than freezing, or even causing a confrontation because of a too-cold car.

Every traffic light was a blur of green to my eyes, worried and fogged by my too-dry contacts. I wanted to throw up.

No, I wanted to hit her. By the time we reached home, I was finding it hard to breathe with her in the same vicinity. Her mere presence suffocated me, constricting my lungs to the point where I was close to having a full-on asthma attack.

I got out of the SUV quickly, making sure not to bump the side-mirror. She crashed out, scattering the newspapers under her feet. I noticed how disgusting our garage is.

Getting inside, I felt even more tension in my throat rising, waiting to escape. This was beyond anger. This was fury.

It wasn't because of us; I couldn't be as angry about that. I didn't care about myself, and I certainly didn't care about her. The only thing I could think of was that she'd put someone I love in danger. That she was willing to just go ahead and risk his life, so long as he got out of the house on time.

I told her she would never drive him anywhere again in the state she was in ("You take care of each other, now," Logan's mum had said, when I last saw her. I'm going to live up to that promise). She took offense and started yelling.

"This is my life, it's none of your business," she wailed. "I'm--I'm still alive!"

"Yeah," I said, looking in the pantry for some crackers to have with the cheese I'd sliced. "This is your life. Your drinks. But when he is in the car, it isn't just your life anymore."

It's most of mine, too. I won't lose him.

She yelled after me, screeching something about me pulling my weight in the house. Eyes turning cold, I glided up the stairs, glad she hadn't heard me leave. I loved that she was making a fool of herself, yelling at no one.

After that...I just sat down and had a snack. This is the same speech I've gotten a thousand times. It's her life, she can do what she likes with it. It's none of my business what she does with her time. She needs to..."calm down, relax," after a long day at work.

It was only when I thought about what I would have done if she'd killed Logan, that I burst into tears.

Family doesn't mean as much as it used to.

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