I nod one more time, then turn and head into the living room, closing the door behind me with a soft click. Slade had left Paul’s cards on the sideboard weeks ago, the ones with his personal number and the department info… hoping I’d see them and decide to better myself. Now I’m picking one up with trembling fingers, about to call the same cop who had me a holding cell more times than I can count… this time for someone else. Someone this town probably thought they’d never see again. Paul’s going to have the same reaction we just did.
My hands are still shaking as I dial the number, pressing the phone to my ear, and sinking down onto the edge of the couch, knees bouncing restlessly.
It rings twice before Paul’s familiar, steady voice answers. “Paul Reynolds.”
I clear my throat, but my voice still comes out rough and unsteady. “Paul… it’s Andrew. Slade’s… uh, Andrew.”
There’s a short pause on the other end, then his tone shifts, gentler but alert. “Andrew. You okay, kid? You don’t sound right.”
I swallow hard, staring at the floor. The image of my mom’s sunken eyes and skeletal face keeps flashing behind my eyelids. “I… I’m not hurt or anything. But my mom just showed up at the door. She… she looksreallybad, Paul. She’s all skinny and her eyes are sunken and she keeps sniffing and rubbing her nose nonstop. She smells…wrong. Like chemicals or something. She’s asking Slade for money.”
My voice cracks. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to steady myself.
Paul’s voice stays calm, but I can hear the seriousness underneath. “Alright, take a breath, Andrew. You’re doing good calling me. Is she still there right now?”
“Yeah. Slade’s at the door with her. He told her to wait and put himself between us. He looks pissed.”
“Good. That’s exactly what he should be doing,” Paul says. “Listen, I’m going to send a couple of officers over right away. We’ll check on her, see what she’s on, and make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble. If she’s under the influence and showing up demanding money, we can get her some help or at least get her off your property. You and Slade stay inside if you can. Don’t engage with her more than necessary.”
I nod even though he can’t see me, my free hand gripping the edge of the couch cushion. “Okay. Yeah. Thank you.”
“Hey, Andrew,” Paul adds, softer now. “This has got to be hitting you hard, seeing her after all this time and in that state. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling right now. Just stay with Slade, alright?”
I let out a shaky breath, the knot in my throat tightening. “I know. Thanks, Paul.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can too. Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes. Hang in there, kid.”
The line goes dead. I sit here for a long moment, phone still clutched in my hand, staring at nothing. My mom, the woman who used to sing me to sleep, is standing on our doorstep looking like a ghost, and all she wanted wasmoney. Not me, not Slade, not an apology… just money. I drag a hand down my face, trying to push the image away, but it keeps coming back. The sunken eyes. The bony fingers. The way she called me “my baby” like she hadn’t abandoned me.
A soft knock sounds on the living room door. I look up, heart still racing. Slade peeks his head in, offering me a soft, careful smile like he’s trying not to spook me.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
I can’t match it. My face feels frozen. I just lift the phone and wave it weakly. “I rang him.”
Slade glances back over his shoulder toward the front door before stepping fully inside and closing the door behind him with a soft click.
I frown, the question slipping out before I can stop it. “Where is she?”
He lets out a bitter laugh and rolls his eyes, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “She uh… she passed out. She’s fine, though… pulse is steady, she’s breathing. I just left her sitting up against the wall. I couldn’t bear to look at her anymore.”
I should feel something… concern, worry, or fear for the woman who once carried me around on her hip and called me her little shadow. But the care left a long time ago, drained out of me somewhere between the empty birthdays, the slammed doors, and the five silent years that followed. All I feel right now is a hollow kind of numbness.
Slade crosses the room and sinks onto the couch beside me, close enough that our thighs brush. “How you doing?”
I shrug, the movement small and stiff. “Uh… I-I dunno really.”
A humourless laugh escapes me as I stare at the carpet. “You’re not gonna give her anything, are you?”
Slade scoffs, the sound sharp and immediate. “What?No. Of course not.”
He reaches over and pulls me into his side without asking, one strong arm sliding around my shoulders. I let myself lean into the warmth of him, breathing in the familiar scent of motor oil and soap that always clings to his skin.
“What the fuck happened to her?” I whisper.
Slade sighs, the sound heavy. “I really don’t know, Drew. I’m just as shocked as you are. That isnotthe woman I married.”
I take a shaky breath and force the next question out. “Do you… still love her?”
