CLEO
“Mummy, Mandy’s looking at me!” Axel’s voice rang out from somewhere deep in the house.
Cleo paused mid-breath, back pressed against the cool bathroom door, the faint scent of citrus cleaner tickling her nose. She unwrapped the tissue paper bundle she’d stashed in her makeup drawer days ago.
Now was a good time to take it. Right?
Right.
Axel was in one of his moods again. He’d already thrown two tantrums since getting home from daycare — one because she’d asked him to drink the water left in his bottle instead of pouring a fresh one into his Spider-Man cup. The second was because he hadn’t gotten to pet the neighbour’s dog they saw two days ago.
Two days ago.
She needed something to get her through the rest of the day.
She slid out a single pill and placed it on her tongue. It dissolved quickly, leaving a faint chemical tang on her taste buds.
I’m a good mother, she reminded herself, closing her eyes. The world around her seemed to slow, colours softening at the edges, her breath loosening in her chest.
I need this to be present and capable for my children.
She could already feel her nerves dissolving. Her thoughts unfurling.
“Mummy! Mummy! Mandy sneezed on me! Now I’m affected!”
Axel’s voice was louder now, footsteps galloping toward her.
I can do this. I can do this. I CAN DO THIS.
By the time Axel turned the doorknob, Cleo had fixed her face and steadied her hands. She opened the door just as he rushed in, arms flailing.
“Here, baby,” she said gently, handing him a wipe. “Clean the sneeze off and you’ll be fine.”
He accepted it and began scrubbing at his shirt (his shirt!) with the urgency of a surgeon prepping for an operation.
Cleo stepped out into the living room. Mandy was in her playpen, gnawing on a plush giraffe and grinning up at her with her new bottom teeth gleaming like pearls. Cleo leaned down, inhaled the scent of coconut oil on her daughter’s scalp, and kissed the top of her head.
**
Cleo had first discovered Adderall in college. Her roommate had been diagnosed with ADHD and had a prescription. One night, in the middle of midterms, when Cleo was spiraling about an exam she hadn’t studied for, her roommate had slid her a pill across the desk.
“It helps me focus. You can try it, just once.”
Cleo had hesitated, but not for long. And when she took it, she’d felt something shift. A cool stillness settled over her, like the world had been placed behind glass. Her thoughts organized themselves. Nothing could go wrong.
She wasn’t an addict or anything, she just took pills sometimes to help her cope with…well, with life. It turned out that Cleo needed help coping. Stressful situations scared and exhausted her. She’d never thought of herself as particularly resilient. She had two older siblings who, growing up, had always done the heavy lifting. If there was something Cleo didn’t want to do, someone else usually stepped in.. So when life started asking real things of her, she froze.
She’d chosen interior decoration because it sounded fun, light, and creative. Nothing that would push her too hard. But even there, she’d found herself shrinking. Her creativity didn’t quite bloom under pressure. Instead of original ideas, she found herself latching onto other people’s concepts and polishing them.
The first time she was given a client to manage, she’d balked, tried to finesse her way out of it, but her boss had been adamant. The project was Cleo’s from conceptualization to production.
She’d gone home that night in a panic, pacing her apartment until her legs ached. Finally, she dug into the drawer where she’d stashed the last of her college pills.
By morning, she had a notebook full of sketches, colour swatches, and mood boards. Confidence. A story to tell the client.
**
She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Cold air brushed her face as she stared at its contents: a carton of eggs, some leftover rice, wilting spinach, assorted veggies for the kids. She shut the door again.
It wasn’t that there wasn’t food; she just couldn’t think of anything to make. She was not much of a cook, thanks to having an older sister. She was lucky Jacob was low maintenance when it came to food. It meant she didn’t have to impress him with her culinary skills, and they could order takeout when she didn’t feel like cooking without feeling guilty.
“Mum-myyy,” Axel came racing in again, his t-shirt now rolled up halfway like he was prepping for surgery. “Can we have pancakes for dinner?”
“Pancakes?” Cleo echoed, blinking. It was 5:40 p.m. She hadn’t even started dinner.
“Yeah! You said we could have pancakes sometime!”
She didn’t remember saying that. But who cared? She had learned to pick her battles.
“Okay,” she said, already grabbing the flour. “Let’s make it together. You can be my mixer.”
“Yes!” he shouted, punching the air, then ran out to get his stool.
The pill was beginning to bloom inside her now, warm and slow like a tide rising. Her limbs didn’t feel so heavy. Her chest had unclenched. She loved her kids, her little family. Look at Axel, looking divine in his too-small Bob the Builder shorts. So handsome, like his dad. And Mandy, her pretty angel, sucking her thumb like a lollipop.
By the time Jacob walked in through the front door, Cleo and Axel were flipping the last batch of pancakes. She’d even lit a candle on the kitchen counter for ambience, just because.
“Smells like heaven,” Jacob said, shrugging off his coat. “Did I die and come back to a diner in California?”
“You’re just in time,” Cleo said, plating up. She smiled at him; easy, relaxed, almost flirtatious. This was the version of herself she preferred. The one who wasn’t screaming in the bathroom while her toddler wailed outside the door.
Mandy squealed from her high chair and banged her spoon on the tray. Axel mimicked her, which made them both laugh hysterically.
“Table for four,” Cleo said. “All guests are expected to use their indoor voices.”
“Tell that to your daughter,” Jacob said, coming over to kiss her cheek. “You okay?”
Cleo turned slightly, wiping her hands on a towel. “I’m good. And hmmm, you smell good.”
“I smell sweaty, woman,” Jacob said, playfully smacking her butt
“You know I love your sweat.”
“Ewww,” Axel stuck his tongue out.
“Mind your business, pal,” Jacob said.“I’ll be a minute, babe. Gonna change out of my work clothes.”
They sat around the table; Axel narrating the dog incident again, Mandy throwing blueberries at Jacob, and Cleo humming as she passed around syrup and butter. The noise, the mess, the ordinary chaos, it didn’t feel so loud tonight.
She wondered if Esther would ever have pancakes for dinner in her home. Or Tara. They didn’t seem the type. They were stronger than she was. They took care of their family on their own. They didn’t need pills to help them along.
Jacob caught her eye across the table, smiled, and mouthed, You’re amazing.
Cleo smiled back and didn’t let herself think about the tissue-wrapped pills tucked away in the medicine cabinet behind the children’s Tylenol.
She thought of their Mother’s Day chat the other day and how Tara and Esther had wanted normal things. What was wrong with her?
Her first Mother’s Day, Jacob had surprised her with flowers, chocolate, and a card. She’d tossed the flowers into the bin. “I’m not that white,” she’d told him.
The chocolate they’d eaten together. The card? She’d scribbled grocery lists on the back.
Since then, Jacob asked her what she wanted for Mother’s Day, and Cleo responded depending on how she felt.
This year, she wasn’t kidding. She wanted a staycation with him. No kids. No yelling. No pills. Just both of them in their kinky world. She needed him to remember what fun they used to have. These days, he acted as though he was scared to get rough with her. He was becoming so…vanilla, and she didn’t want that. Vanilla meant boredom. Vanilla meant more reliance on pills.
“So, what are you thinking for Mother’s Day?” she asked.
“What are you thinking?” Jacob asked.
“A staycation. You and me.”
Jacob raised an eyebrow. “The kids?”
“Your parents will be happy to take them.”
“For how long? Axel, cutlery stays on the table, please.”
“Maybe two days?”
“Hmmm, I’ll talk to my mum tomorrow.”
“Saturday and Sunday.”
“Your wish is my command, mi’lady.”
Cleo felt at peace. Everything was right in her world again.