The Perfect Life (The Perfect Stranger #4) - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,42

to go back home and I'm going to cut my mom out of my life.

I did that for a while before and during that time she got deeper into her addictions and ended up owing a huge debt, which I ended up paying. After that, she was sober again and on the right track.

That was the worst thing that I had ever done. I thought that she had hit bottom and that things were going up. Well, I was wrong. I'm not going to let that happen again. I'm not going to bail her out anymore, no matter what happens.

If she gets clean again and she stays clean and she wants to rekindle our relationship, I'm not going to let that happen either. Not for a long time.

Before, I was always that person who was there for her to pull her back up out of the gutter. This time, it seemed to work. She got a job that she liked. She met a man who I thought was a good match for her and he would protect her from all of her addictions. I thought that he was stable and I thought that maybe this time it would be okay. What I've learned is that this time was no different. She is being held hostage by her demons and until she gets through to herself, there's nothing that I can do. The one thing that I can do is stop her from hurting me.

One episode ends and another one starts, but no matter how loud the volume is in my earphones, my thoughts are louder and more persistent. A tear wells up in my eyes and I wipe it off quickly as it rolls down my cheek.

I close my eyes and try to focus on the show. I make the sound even louder and put a night mask over my eyes to block out the rest of the plane. It takes a little bit, but eventually my thoughts are drowned out by the inappropriateness of The Office’s Michael Scott and his loud exchange with Jim Halpert. The more that I focus, the more my body starts to relax.

My arms become heavy and difficult to lift. I slowly feel myself drifting off to sleep.

I wake up sometime later from a loud bump that rouses me from my deep sleep. It takes me a little bit to focus my mind to pull the earphones out of my ears and lift the mask.

We are still flying, but my ears pop and I know that we are starting to descend. I look out the window and see the skyline of Seattle in the distance. There are thousands of bright lights and spots of darkness which are probably bodies of water.

The flight attendant makes an announcement that they will be making one last trip around the cabin to collect all of the garbage and I realize that there is an unopened meal on the tray table in front of me.

Checking the time on my phone, I realize that I have more than enough time to finish the meal and open the top. There’s something resembling meat in one compartment and a bun along with some butter and jam in another.

Craving something sweet, I load the cold slice of bread with the strawberry jam and shovel it into my mouth. It tastes good despite the fact that I know that it's not, but I'm so hungry that it hardly matters.

As soon as I'm done, I reach for a few bites of the salad, picking out the cucumbers and the tomatoes while leaving the lettuce. Then I force open the small bag of pretzels and eat two or three at a time, keenly aware of my loud chewing.

The person next to me gives me some annoyed side-eye but given the fact that he is taking up both of the armrests and has been this whole flight, I ignore him.

Eventually, we land without incident and get off the plane. I only have my carry-on so I don't bother going to baggage claim and instead head straight to the taxi station.

As soon as I get outside, I breathe in the thick, humid, water-saturated air and wrap my coat tighter around me. It's not so much cold as rather damp.

I reach for the umbrella that I packed for this precise occasion, but when I open it, I realize that it's not raining enough to warrant it. Still, as I stand at the curb waiting for my cab, I seem to