Legacy of resentment

Returning from school, halfway down the hall leading to my apartment, I smelled the familiar mixed odors of smoke and booze. With dread in my heart, I knew what I was about to face: my drunken mother in her messy housecoat, sitting on a chair in our kitchen, no makeup, hair awry, cigarette in hand and holding a glass of booze. At one time, my mom was an outstandingly beautiful lady--so strikingly attractive that heads would turn when she entered a room. Men fell in love with her, and when she came to visit my school, the next day I always received compliments on how beautiful she was.