Page 92 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

I smile and roll onto my side, then rest the phone on the pillow next to me so it almost feels like he’s lying beside me.

“Hi,” I say quietly.

“Hi,” he echoes back, his voice as hushed as mine. His eyes seem to drift all over my face. I know what he’s seeing; dark circles under my eyes from too many sleepless nights and an expression of guilt that pretty soon is going to end up permanently etched into my face. He doesn’t ask if I’m okay; he can see that I’m not. Instead, he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

I draw in a slow breath. For the first time in my life, I want to bare my soul to a man.

“It’s my mam,” I whisper. “She’s a recovering alcoholic. She was dry for sixteen years, but she’s fallen off the wagon this past year.”

“This year?” he mutters, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Would it happen to have started around the time you were hurt?”

One thing I’m learning about Harrison is that he’s incredibly astute. I nod in answer to his question.

“I didn’t know.” I blow out a breath, unloading a little of the shame that’s suffocating me. “How could I have not seen it? I’m a terrible son.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. But even with your psychic gifts, you can’t know everything. They aren’t infallible. Besides, I imagine she’s probably got very good at hiding it if it’s been a long-term issue. Many alcoholics are high functioning—until they’re not.”

“I know,” I reply miserably. “My brain keeps telling me that. I grew up seeing her hide it from everyone. I know what she can be like. But she never hid it from me. I don’t know how I missed the signs. No, that’s a lie. I do know—I was so busy thinking about myself that I never stopped to think about what seeing me like that put her through.”

“Tell me about her,” Harrison says softly.

I dig past all the pain and sadness to the good memories. “When I was very small, Mam would sing to me if I couldn’t sleep. She’d make these funny little bunny ears with my shoelaces when she was getting me ready for school, and…and she would cut my sandwiches into different shapes every day so I wouldn’t have to eat the crusts.”

“You don’t like bread crusts?” A small, sweet smile tugs at his lips.

“Bread, pies, tarts, quiches. If it has a crust, I won’t eat it.” I shudder. “There’s just something about them. They’re weird.”

He chokes out a quiet laugh. “Weird?”

“Okay, it’s me,” I admit with a small smile of my own to match his. “I’m weird.”

“I happen to like your brand of weird,” he replies. “She sounds like a good mum despite what you’ve both been through. Being an alcoholic or a recovering alcoholic doesn’t and shouldn’t define her. It sounds to me like she showed you love in all the ways she could.”

My smile dies, and I release a deep breath. “She gave up for me, you know.”

“The drinking?”

I nod. “It had got so bad by the time I was a teenager. The last time I found her, I was fourteen and she was in a bad state, lying in a pool of vomit. Her skin was grey, her face puffed and bloated from the booze.”

“You called an ambulance? You saved her life?”

I nod again, feeling a burning at the back of my throat and an aching in my eyes. I rub them tiredly to stop the tears from forming. “I sat next to her bed in that hospital room and cried. Maybe she saw how much hurt she caused me, or maybe she came so close to dying she scared herself. But by the time she was discharged from hospital, she had entered treatment for alcoholism. It was a lot, but she did it. She put in all the hard work and got dry.”

“What happened to you while she was dealing with all that?”

“I was put into a temporary placement. Bounced around for a few weeks, but they eventually let me stay with Trev.”

“Trev?”

“Our neighbour. We’ve lived next door to him forever. He was always like a father figure to me. I was comfortable with him and could talk to him about everything Mam was going through and how I felt, and being next door meant I could be close enough to help with her recovery. I was there for her every step of the way and was so proud at every single milestone she reached. All the pain I’d felt in the hospital and then I got to see her come out the other side and be happy–” I break off and close my eyes as the most obvious realisation comes to me.

“You’ve just made the connection, haven’t you?”

“She sat at my bedside in the hospital and cried after I almost died. And when the time came for me to heal, I didn’t allow her to support me the same way I had her.” I swallow hard. “I shut it all out, including her. It wasn’t just the attack and the physical injuries. It was the fact that I’d been outed too. Considering we’re in the twenty-first century, you’d be surprised how many people didn’t want anything to do with me once they found out I was gay. Guys I’d known for years, who I’d thought were my friends. Danny was really the only one who stood by me. He even came out himself in solidarity, which caused a lot of problems with his own family.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked him,” Harrison mutters.

“He’s a good man.” I sigh. “I still feel bad that he ended up leaving and changing his job too. No matter how forward we think society has come, it’s not nearly far enough. The intolerance still runs deep.”