Toxic Love Ch 3 "Clarie's Day"

Ms. Tori is cooing into the phone, trying to placate Mike; I'm watching the inertia of my coffee spin the spoon around in my mug when it hits me-- the spoon is me and Tommy is the coffee. I roll my eyes and snatch my spoon out.

I hear something coming from the bathroom but Ms. Tori hangs up and turns to me. "Claire, Mike says he was bragging up and down the bar about Coke he was selling."

"Coke? As in cocaine?" I gulp, while Tommy has always dabbled, he's never pushed. This new revelation makes me nervous; what else is Tommy doing.

Ms. Tori pinches the bridge of her nose, "I'll check the room, you clear the car. I'm sure we've got time before--"

"Mom! Fucking Claire!"

We both break into a dead sprint for the bathroom. I reach the doorway first, ready to shield Ms. Tori from a corpse. No, he's just peed on the floor and barfed all over himself, I think to myself, we couldn't be so lucky. I realize my thought and quickly squash it.

"At least he got it in the tub," Ms. Tori mutters darkly.

"We gotta clean him up," I say moving towards him.

Ms. Tori nods; "I'll get the bleach and the mop," she says heading out the door.

I can hear him muttering something into the tub rim. I step gingerly onto a dry spot and grab him by the back of his collar. I pull him back sharply hoping he gets whiplash; this is the closest I've ever come to strangling him. It's a small victory, but considering I'm standing in his urine, I'll take it.

"C'mon Tommy, get on the toilet," I say as I drag him backwards, "I've gotta flush the tub out." I drop his carcass onto the toilet seat, and steady him with one hand while I turn the shower on. I lean over to rinse the sides when Ms. Tori appears with the mop and bucket.

"You're too good for him," she states simply.

I look at her; we always think it, but we've never said it aloud. "Thank you," I start, "I don't know how you've done it. You're a saint, Ms. Tori."

She looks at me a moment, and misty-eyed she whispers, "You’re a blessing; you're more than I ever could have hoped for."

I never knew my mom, so Ms. Tori is the only maternal influence I've ever had, to hear her say this makes me want to cry. Sometimes I wish I were her child instead of Tommy-- he doesn't deserve her-- and at times like this I think she wishes the same thing.

We lock eyes for another moment, and then get back to work. Once I've got the tub cleared, I hook my arms into Tommy's armpits and drag his sorry ass to our room. Since he's finally yakked it's safe to move him to a bed; once he's there I strip him down for laundry and leave aspirin on the nightstand.

Then it's all routine from this point.