it’s a problem for me?” I’m so damn raw that a part of me might run if she rejects me.
Sylvia studies me, longer than I like. “I’d say that’s so much more of a better explanation of how you broke your arm than that weak excuse of the pool deck.”
True. “When things calm down for me, you, me and Miguel need to talk.”
“And I can’t wait to listen.” She pauses. “Miguel’s here. We were hanging out in my room. Besides the moms, there isn’t anyone else. Is the cliff thing why you’re here? Why you skipped school and why your mom is so upset?”
I shake my head. “I could use a friend, but I get it if you choose my mom at the end of this.”
She extends her hand toward me. “I told you, I’m here. And maybe, at the end of all of this, I’ll get to choose you both.”
“I’m going to tell everyone Mom’s an alcoholic. I’ve been covering for her for years, and I’m not doing it anymore.”
The shock that registers on Sylvia’s face had to be near a 10.0, but she quickly recovers. “Okay.” She nods like she’s agreeing to something in her head. “Wow. That’s big, and we’re going to get through this—together.”
Sylvia takes my hand, and my gut twists as I hear all the women laugh from the kitchen. “How much have they had to drink?” Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.
“Not much.” Sylvia leads me down the hallway. “They just got here twenty minutes ago. But … your mom’s been here longer.”
Which means she’s had more than a few. When I walk into the kitchen, Mom stops laughing and her expression completely drops. Her eyes are feverish, a sign she’s a good bottle in, and her cheeks and nose are ruddy from alcohol in her blood.
She’s the life of the party, everyone’s best friend, and I’m tired of wondering if she’ll be coherent enough to get herself home at night or into bed. I’m exhausted from staying up to make sure she doesn’t puke in her sleep. She’s spent money we need. Has brought strange men into our house. She’s put a huge burden on me. My mom terrified my sister, her daughter.
My mother put us both in danger.
Raw fury enters my veins, causes the muscles in my jaw to tic, and then I notice how Mom’s hand flinches toward the bottle of wine. The way my body reacts at the edge of a cliff.
Mom’s sick.I am, too.
But I believe I’m going to get better.
Does that mean she can, too?
The room goes silent as they notice me standing there with Sylvia by my side. Footsteps from behind and then Miguel’s on my other side. Friends. I have friends who have my back.
“Do you want to tell them,” I say to Mom, “or do you want me to? Either way. One of us is talking.”
Mom starts to rise. “I’m sorry, everyone. This is what I’ve been talking about with Sawyer being moody. He and I need to go home and talk this out privately.”
“Where’s Lucy, Mom?” I ask, and she goes completely still.
“You were supposed to pick her up from ballet today and you didn’t. And don’t tell me it was my day, because it wasn’t.”
Mom blinks. “Did you get her?”
“Where did she spend the night last night?”
“In her bed.”
“Try again. Actually don’t. She and I slept in a hotel last night, but you didn’t notice that, did you? Because you’re used to scheduling your work appointments late because you’re sleeping off the bottles of wine you had the night before and letting me take care of Lucy in the morning.”
“Sawyer.” Mom trips over the back of Hannah’s chair, but catches herself against the wall. “Not here. We’re not doing this here.”
“I’m not staying silent anymore. If you don’t want to talk about Lucy, let’s talk about the multiple bottles of wine that you drink by yourself on the weekends.”
Mom goes ghost white. “You need to stop.”
“Or we can talk about the child support payments you’ve lied about.”
“Sawyer!” Mom shouts.
“Or we can talk about what happened last night, or do you even remember it?”
Mom falters, Hannah stands and wraps an arm around her. Sylvia squeezes my hand and the encouragement is needed, but it’s also a reminder. My mom was the first adult in this room to stand and hug Sylvia, offering her acceptance in one of the toughest moments of her life.