Thinking about it still stings. It just goes to show that it doesn’t matter who you are when dealing with addiction. Drugs triumph all.
I push the feelings over it away because it’s not like I can change it, and lift the dishwasher door. I turn, gripping the edges of the countertop as I stare down at my aunt. “I brought it up.”
She raises her brows in question. “How did she take it?”
“Not well.”
“Yeah, well, she’s never been keen on confrontation.” Her voice is reserved. Like she has more to say but doesn’t want to go there. There’s a pause before she adds, “Please tell me you’re not thinking about going back, Colson.”
“I haven’t put a lot of thought into it.” Since moving in with Sebastian, my focus has been elsewhere. I do know one thing, though, my visit back hasn’t made me feel like I want to move back in.
“It’s not a healthy environment for you. For anyone.”
“I can’t leave her on her own.”
I’ve never blamed Aunt Bess for retreating when she did and for sheltering Sebastian from the chaos of my childhood. From the beginning, I’ve understood she had to protect herself and her family. But as much as they’re my family, so is her sister.
She’s my mom. Shitty or not, I can’t leave her on her own. She’ll fall face first and knock her teeth right out.
“You deserve better,” she says gently. “You always have.” An emotion I can’t place flashes in her eyes as she presses her finger to her lower eyelid.
“Save your tears, Aunt Bess. You helped take care of me when I was a kid, but I’m grown now. I can take care of myself and try to take care of her.”
“You’re the child. It breaks my heart knowing that you must take care of her period. Tell me the truth, Colson. Has she relapsed?”
Aunt Bess knows about Mom’s latest stint in rehab, an outpatient program on the outskirts of Harrison Heights, because I told her. I was hopeful, like every time before.
That was almost two and a half years ago. It was her second longest time staying clean, but ultimately, she bounced back. Fell back into the same crowd of people and down, down, down the rabbit hole she went.
I know she’s asking because of the money mom stole, and to be honest, I’m surprised it hasn’t come up sooner.
Mom knows what she’s doing. She’s fallen off the wagon handfuls of times. Unless she wants to get back on, it doesn’t matter what anyone says. The best thing to do is standby and offer support, which right now means paying off her debt with Finn before convincing her she needs help.
Finding a nice spot in the middle of the truth and a lie, I say, “I haven’t been around enough to know what she’s doing. I’ve visited once, and half of my time there consisted of waiting for her to come home.”
The question is on the tip of Aunt Bess’s tongue—Come home from where?—but she doesn’t ask. Beyond telling me that I deserve better, she doesn’t push me on it. Probably because she knows what it’s like to be in my shoes. It’ll take Mom screwing me over in the worst way possible to make me want to abandon her. Taking money from me sucks like hell, but it’s not the worst that could go down.
“Don’t worry about me. All right?”
“Easier said than done, but I understand. I care about you, but I’ll stay out of it.”
I step over and wrap her up in another hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head while my lies press in on me “Love you, too, Aunt Bess. You know that.”
Heading backto Harrison Heights after I leave my aunt and uncle’s house isn’t ideal but necessary. Sebastian drives us back to the complex, and I tell him I’ll see him later before getting in my car and hopping on the 401. Traffic isn’t so bad considering it’s a Sunday night. It takes me half the usual time to cross the Sycamore River and turn onto our street.
It’s darker this time, dusk in full effect, but that same corner light in the living room shines through the window. No one has dealt with the grass, but the trash on the stoop is gone.
I push through the front door, surprised to see mom leaning back on the couch with a cigarette in her hand. For a second, it looks like she’s nodding off, and my stomach tightens. I kick the door shut behind me and move to make sure she’s okay.
But then she opens her eyes and turns her head in my direction. I check her face, notice how it looks like her cheeks have sunken in more. Her eyes, a tiny bit glazed over, are dull but nothing like they normally are when she’s as high as the clouds. I let out a shaky breath, thankful that I didn’t walk into a scene that used to physically make me sick thinking about as a kid.
“Took you long enough to show up.”
“I had plans.”
She hums as if she could care less, resting her head back on the cushion and sucking down a few centimeters of her cigarette as her eyes close again.
I figure it’s best to get right into it. There’s no reason to beat around the bush and draw out being here any longer. As much as I care for my mom, I’m starting to crave the quiet life back at Spring Meadows. I told Aunt Bess I couldn’t leave mom to fend for herself, but that doesn’t mean I have to be here any longer than I’d like. I can take care of her from afar.
