The Queen of Victoria Avenue

I didn’t tell my mom I was adopting a dog, because when she was six, a dog bit her, and she’s been deathly afraid ever since. I don’t really like dogs either, but I saw this little one walking down the road, and when I heard it whimpering, I had to save it. It had matted light brown fur, and it was limping a little bit. I remembered my ex-boyfriend telling me that you can’t go near a wounded animal, because it’ll lash out at you, but the dog let me scoop it right up. That seemed like a sign that I was meant to save it. When I got it back home, I gave it a bath and named it Taylor. That way, if my mom tried to make me get rid of it, I could say that I was already emotionally attached even though I don’t really get emotionally attached to things.

That was the weekend I was supposed to go with my dad, but he wasn’t answering my texts, which was fine, because I don’t really like spending the weekend with him in Fall River. It was fine when I was younger, but now that I’m almost sixteen, it just feels weird. One of his girlfriends is only nine years older than me, and when the three of us hang out, I feel like I’m witnessing a crime. My mom says that my dad has been acting like a child ever since he went to Turkey to get his hair transplant, but I would argue that she’s been the same way since she got her breast enlargement. I don’t know how she afforded it, but it probably has something to do with the guy she’s dating who she won’t let me meet. I feel like everybody around me gets away with everything, so why can’t I get away with having a dog? When she came home, I was holding the dog in my arms and she screamed at me for about ten minutes before she calmed down and asked if I’d fed it yet.

“If that thing goes to the bathroom on my floor, you’re both out on the street,” she said, but she had that smirk on her face that told me she was secretly just getting off on pretending to be a stern mother.

My mom tries to get me to stay home from school all the time. She lets me stay up as late as I want. One time, my ex-boyfriend and I walked all the way to his cousin’s house in Portsmouth, and I ended up sleeping over and didn’t tell her. When I got home the next morning, she asked me if I had gone out for breakfast. She didn’t even realize I had stayed out all night. Looking at her outfit, it became clear to me that she’d done the same. Her pantyhose were ripped and her make-up was hanging on for dear life. I made us both bowls of cereal and we talked about how crazy expensive Folkfest tickets were.

I wouldn’t say my mom is a bad mom more than I would say she’s just not someone who ever should have been a mom. She got pregnant with me after dating my dad for, like, two weeks. They got engaged, but called it off when my dad slept with my mom’s best friend. My mom ended up meeting this guy who took a liking to her, and he gave her a deal renting this in-law apartment on Victoria Avenue, which is where we live now. I don’t know how she keeps the rent low, and truthfully, I don’t want to know. I’m just glad we get to live somewhere nice, even if I am bored to tears most of the time. My mom works as a bartender at two different places in town. One is nice, and the other is just a hotel bar where business guys here for a conference hit on her and hide their wedding rings in their pockets. She makes good money in the summer, and in the winter, we turn our pockets out looking for spare cash. If either of us knew how to budget, we’d be fine, but I’m still in high school and she lives at a time when online shopping exists, so we’re pretty much screwed all the time.

While I was playing with the dog, my mom was unpacking some Indian food she’d picked up on the way home so I’d have dinner if my dad didn’t show, which was nearly a given since it was almost six. I’d get an apology text from him sometime on Sunday, but I’d wait to respond for a few days just to try and make him feel guilty even though I’m not sure he’s capable of that. I once saw him get into an argument with one of his girlfriends and kick her out of the car right on the highway. Told her to walk home, and then pulled away and asked where I wanted to get ice cream. He’s kind of a sociopath, and part of me hopes it’s not genetic, but I would never hurt an animal, so I guess I’m fine. Taylor started barking either because she liked the smell of chicken curry or because she hated my mom’s perfume.

“Why did you get food from Turmeric again,” I asked, “It’s always underseasoned. I think a white guy owns the place.”

My mom was scooping the last bits of rice onto a paper plate. She had on a low-cut blue dress, and I had to admit that her boobs really did look amazing.

“I went there, because it’s cheap,” she said, “And because the guy who works there likes me, and he always gives me extra.”

“Extra bad food doesn’t really seem like a deal, Mom.”

“When you have a household and a child and a new dog, you can pick up food from wherever you want, Marissa,” she said, “But until then, I’m the Queen of Victoria Avenue.”

She walked by and gave me a kiss on the head. Taylor snapped at her, and my mom screamed and nearly fell over. We both looked at each other, and then at the dog. It was almost like she’d scared herself more than my mother. She’d burrowed into my stomach and was whimpering again.

“I don’t know, Mom” I said, “It looks like there might be a new queen.”