“Mom,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “I can’t do this. Please don’t make me.”
“No,” she said, sitting at the counter as she continued to write in the notebook she carried around everywhere with her. How in the hell did she do that? Why didn’t she just use a notebook or something, an iPad, something? It would be so much easier for her, so why didn’t she do it? He cast his gaze at the clear plastic jar that had been placed on top of the refrigerator, licking his lips as he took a breath.
“Mom it’s not FAIR!” his sister screeched, stomping her feet as she marched back and forth through the kitchen, “I want my goddamn phone!”
He didn’t often see his mother move this quick, but as she reached out and grabbed his younger sister by one of her pigtails, he backed up a step. Their mother never hurt them, and she never abused them on a regular basis, but when she needed to get her point across she wasn’t averse to grabbing something, clothing, a ponytail, or even a limb. Thankfully her grip usually wasn’t tight, but it was the fact that she did it that made them pay attention. His sister went quiet almost immediately as her eyes widened in shock, not fear thankfully.
“Listen to me carefully young lady,” she said in her sweetest “don’t screw with me” voice, “Your phone is a privilege that your father and I pay for, and because of that, I can take it away any time I please. And now that I see this side of you once again, I will keep your phone indefinitely until you can prove to me, without a doubt, that you are sorry for what you’ve said, how you’ve acted, and will dedicate more time to your life and less to your phone.”
“But my phone is my life!” she whined
“And that,” their mother said, “is one of the biggest problems.”
(to be continued)