“No. It’s better if I see her on my own. I appreciate you talking to me.”
“I’m glad I was here. Remember you aren’t alone, Paris. More people than you realize are dealing with addictions.”
She took a deep breath and picked up her bag. “I’ll remember.”
Now all she had to do was say goodbye to her mom.
With a pounding heart, Paris stood outside her mom’s room. She didn’t know how she’d tell her she couldn’t see her anymore but, for her own sanity, she had to do it.
“Paris?”
She turned and looked at her mom. “I just knocked on your door.”
“I’ve been in the dining room having breakfast. I met some nice people who have moved here from Oregon.”
As usual, her mom looked impeccable. The jeans and shirt she was wearing wouldn’t have been out of place on Sunset Boulevard. “You look nice.”
“I try my best. Your dress is pretty.”
“You sent it to me last year.” The cherry red rockabilly dress was one of her favorites, mostly because her mom had taken the time to buy it for her.
“I thought it looked familiar.” Donna smiled, but Paris could see the strain it was taking to appear normal. Her mom must have been dreading this conversation as much as she was. “I spoke to Jerry last night. He wants me to come to Atlantic City.”
If she did that, it would be the end of any counseling her mom might have considered. “Are you going?”
“I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.”
“That’s good.” Paris looked down the corridor. “There is a small seating area at the end of the hallway. Do you want to sit there for a few minutes?”
Donna shook her head. “I’d prefer to speak here. I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’ve been thinking about what happened, too. I overreacted when I saw you adding bourbon to your coffee. It’s just—”
“You don’t have to say it. I know how hard it’s been for you. How hard I’ve made your life. When I walked past Jack on my way out of Richard’s home, I realized I was repeating what I’d done when you were his age.”
Paris didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent.
“Jack’s an intelligent little boy with so much enthusiasm for everything he does. I can’t remember what you were like. I don’t know what you enjoyed eating or what your favorite stories were. I have no idea who your friends were or whether you liked school. Last night, I learned more about Jack than I remember about you.”
Paris looked over her shoulder, hoping no one overheard them. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. If it weren’t for your grandma, I don’t know what would have happened to you. At the time, I was so caught up in my own life that I didn’t care about anything except my next drink. You shouldn’t have had to live through that.”
“I turned out okay.”
“You turned out more than okay,” her mom said softly. “I’m very proud of you, even if I’ve never told you.”
Paris clenched her fists, trying to focus on anything other than the tears building behind her eyes. “I wanted to be a florist because of you. Do you remember the rose we used to take to each of our apartments?”
Donna looked as though she was trying hard to remember. “What was it like?”
“It was a miniature red rose. Each time we moved, you’d carefully pack it in the car, making sure it didn’t tip over. You said Dad gave it to you on the day I was born and that we should cherish it. We didn’t have a lot of things, but we always had the rose.”
“What happened to it?”
“When I came home from one of my visits to Grandma’s, I thought it had died. You’d forgotten to water it. I asked Grandma how I could save it and she bought some potting mix and fertilizer. We looked after it at her house. By some miracle, it survived. I planted it in my garden when I moved here.”
“It’s still alive?”
