“… I promise I’m going to see you this upcoming month,” Sondra mentioned to the boy during one of their usual end-of-month conversations.
“I’ve been hearing that same story for the past several months now, mom. When are you really gonna visit?” Joshua retorted in an understandably angered and elevated tone of voice. Over time, the boy had become a pro at dragging on conversations with Sondra.
“Don’t you dare raise your fucking tone at me, Presley,” she blared, the clangor of her finished alcohol bottles adding to the discord as she slammed an open palm onto a nearby coffee table. “Now, if I promised you I’ll be there, I’ll be there,” she repeated, only to have her over-the-top jeremiad earn the response of a distinct chuckle. Sondra was still struggling with her vices and was in absolutely no condition to resume her role as a mother; but for more reasons than one, she should have stayed far away from Yarmouth.