is filthy, but there are thousands more just like it. We lived in them from week to week in LA during good times, and during bad times, we slept on the street. Even when I had a steady stream of income from my gigs, Suzy would blow it on her vices and leave me in a hooker’s paradise with nothing to eat. It was only ever about what she needed.
I shake away the memories and use my fist to knock out the screen. The sound doesn’t even jolt her from her sleep, which isn’t surprising. She has a habit of staying up for days, so she sleeps like the dead when she crashes.
When I climb through the window, my feet land on the old, matted carpet with a dull thud. Suzy doesn’t stir. For a minute, I just watch her there. Sprawled out across the mattress in nothing more than a dingy old bra and soiled underwear.
This isn’t my mother. I don’t even know if my mother is in there anymore, but after tonight, I’ll find out. One way or the other.
I do what I came here to do, dumping the contents of the brown paper bag in my hand on the nightstand next to the bed. A veritable buffet of all her favorite things. When I was younger, and she was too dope-sick to move, so I’d have to go out and buy these things for her. This is probably about a two-week supply for Suzy. Syringes. Pills. Powders. All her favorite party favors.
Beside them, I leave the plane ticket I bought her along with the brochure for the best rehab money could buy. She has a place waiting there for her. I opened an account with them, and she can stay indefinitely if that’s what she needs. I expect it to be the hardest decision she’ll ever make, but part of me still fears it will be the easiest. This isn’t the first time I’ve asked her to go, but it will be the last.
While she’s still passed out, I rifle through her meager belongings, checking her bag, purse, and jacket. But I already know where she hides shit. Suzy never was smart enough to consider this. Between the mattresses, wrapped up in a pillowcase, I find what I’m looking for.
Kail’s tablet.
As if she can sense the money slipping out of her hands, Suzy chokes on her spit and startles herself awake. Her glazed eyes dart around, pausing when they land on me. She sees the tablet in my hands, and bolts upright with a snarl.
“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Hello, Suzy,” I answer calmly. I don’t have the energy to fight with her anymore. “I came here to get this back. And to give you one last chance to make things right.”
She scowls at me as though she doesn’t understand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I stare through her. “The things you wanted are on your nightstand.”
A smug expression twists her wrinkled face as her eyes flick to the nightstand. I don’t exist to her anymore. She’s already crawling toward them like the fiend she is.
“It’s about fucking time,” she mutters.
She examines a few of the pills and baggies, but her eyes keep darting back to the syringes. I knew they would. She always goes for the good stuff. The needle is Suzy’s only true love.
“Suzy,” I call out to her.
In a hurry, she flings open the drawer and retrieves a rubber tube she uses to wrap around her arm. While she pokes and prods herself, searching for a viable vein, I take a seat in the chair by the door. She tears the cap off with her teeth and spits it onto the floor. The needle hovers above her skin, and I try again.
“I can’t do this anymore, Mom.” My voice cracks. “You’ve been sick for a long time, but it’s not too late to get better.”
She blinks up at me, startled. She did forget I was here.
“You could turn it around. Go to rehab. You could choose a different life. The ticket is on the nightstand. There’s a room for you and people who want to help.”
“I don’t want a different life,” she mutters. “Fucking asshole.”
She pushes the needle against her skin. I’m running out of time to tell her while she’s still somewhat coherent.
“If you choose this, it will be the last time you speak to me. The last time you get anything from me. I’ll cut you off and have you