i could never have sleepovers because my mom would get too drunk,
the kind of drunk where you groan like an autistic person and break dishes and smile and look like you just mouthwashed with blood.
i could never tell my friends this because i wanted them to stay my friends so i’d say stuff like ‘we’re getting our rugs cleaned again’ or ‘my dad has had a rough day at the office’ or ‘it wouldn’t be fun anyway because we have a small tv and limited rug space.’
but one day i got the feeling that my friends had stopped believing me so in order to make sure they stayed my friends i invited them over to watch a movie
even though i had my mom promise that she wouldn’t ‘do anything embarrassing’ i was still nervous that she’d get wasted and that they’d notice her eerie resemblance to Sissy Spacek
before everyone arrived i put out a bowl of semi-stale goldfish and six pouches of capri sun which was the only food we had in our house
when everyone was seated i heard my mom go to bed and felt so relieved like maybe there was a god or something but when i tried to turn on the tv i realized she forgot to pay the electricity bill.
Elena Robidoux (1993) is a writer of prose poetry and creative nonfiction from Boston. Her work has been featured in Vantage Point and Pulp Metal Magazine. erobidoux.tumblr.com.