The truth was, I didn’t know what kind of future I had with my parents. Many people could argue I should just cut ties with them, but they were the only family I had, and as flawed and imperfect as they were, they had raised me. They had given me life.
And I wanted so badly for them to have one too.
A real one. A sober one.
Lately, that want had sharpened into something closer to need. After everything with Silas, after fleeing across state lines with nothing but a prayer, I craved something solid to stand on. Something that wouldn’t shift beneath my feet.
I needed my parents.
Not the versions that existed now, pickled and hazy, but the ones I remembered in flashes. Mom braiding my hair before school. Dad teaching me to ride a bike in the driveway, his hands steady on the handlebars. Those parents had existed once. Somewhere beneath the vodka and the pills and the years of slow erosion, they were still in there.
They had to be.
I thought about Knox. About the way his entire face changed when he talked about his daughter. Fourteen years in prison, and he still fought for her. Still protected her. Still put her first, even when it cost him everything.
That was what parents were supposed to do.
They were supposed to choose you.
“You know, Mom …” I forced my voice softer. “I’ve been doing some research. There’s a really good rehab near my new job. You and Dad could both get clean. Start fresh.”
The snow came down harder. I could barely see ten feet ahead, the world reduced to white static and the ghostly glow of my headlights. My shoulders crept toward my ears, muscles coiling tight.
“Honey, we can’t afford that.”
My eyes burned. “I’ll find a way.”
I would work double shifts. Triple shifts. I would sell everything I owned if it meant getting them back.
“I won’t let you do that for us.”
Anger flared, hot and sudden. This was what it was like, talking to my parents. An emotional roller coaster with no safety bar. Anger, then guilt, then sadness, then worry. Loop after loop after loop until I wanted to scream.
“Mom, I want you and Dad back.” My voice cracked on the last word. As much as I pretended starting a new life wasn’t scary as hell, as grateful as I was to have found Faith, I still feltlonely. I wanted my parents more than I had in recent years. “That’s worth more than any amount of money.”
I waited for her to say she wanted that too. That she’d try. That she’d fight for me the way Knox fought for his daughter.
“Honey, we’re fine. Truly.”
My throat swelled shut.
Fine.
They were always fine.
Meanwhile, I was the one drowning. I was the one who had just escaped a man who used his fists like punctuation marks. I was the one starting over in a new city, alone, terrified, desperate for something steady to hold on to.
And they couldn’t even admit they had a problem.
Knox had given up fourteen years of his life to protect his daughter. My parents couldn’t give up a bottle.
Back to denial. The ride was over. Nothing resolved, nothing changed.
“I have to go, Mom. I’m almost at work.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Be safe.”
I ended the call and exhaled, long and shaky, the silence in the car feeling louder than her voice had.
