one seems to be around at all except for salt trucks and plows. A taxicab passes. My dad’s driving is more relaxed and assured. The roads must be better by now.
Just a few turns to the house.
I turn back to Dylan. “Everyone’s probably asleep. But there’s a chance your mother waited up, and you know how she can get.”
Dylan cringes. Looks out the window.
“I’m just saying. Brace yourself. We’ll talk tomorrow. Right now we all need sleep.”
I can see through the front window that the kitchen light is on at the back of the house. Someone may have just left it on. I’m hoping no one is awake. I’m in no mood for an encounter of any kind.
My dad says, “I’ll idle here until I see that you’re in, then I’m going home myself. Call me if you need anything,” he says, and I remember again that he is going to cut off support unless I do his bidding. I can’t come up with a retort; far too tired.
Tomorrow. I’ll deal with it all tomorrow.
I have my hand hovering behind Dylan’s back. The walk is slick, he might fall. I also have this vague sense that he might bolt again. Illogical, but the feeling is there. Will I ever be able to send him in to school with blithe confidence again?
I shove the door open hard with my hip. Voices in the kitchen stop at our arrival, and I hit the living room light switch as Mallory and Casey come scurrying in.
Mallory flings herself at Dylan, wrapping her around him and stroking his hair. He shifts uncomfortably but allows it, maybe sensing he owes her this much.
Casey walks over to me and leans heavily into my embrace. I feel like I’m holding her up. She must really be exhausted. I bend down for a kiss, and smell the alcohol. I set her back to look at her. “Casey?”
“I had a drink. I’ve been very stressed.”
The very comes out “vurry.”
I glare over at Mallory. She releases Dylan slightly—leaving one arm around his shoulders—and rolls her eyes in Casey’s direction, adding a light shrug. Like she’s saying, What are we going to do with her?
Casey looks at Dylan. “Oh, kid. I’m so glad you’re back.” She releases me, and in walking to Dylan her step is visibly unsteady. She makes to hug him, but he flinches away, shrugging out of his mom’s arm, too.
“I’m—” He pauses here, his face working to prevent the stammer. “Going to bed.”
He walks away to the stairs, but turns just before going up. “S-s-sorry.”
Casey leans against me again for support. It’s all I can do not to shove her off me.
“So, how was your night?” I ask them, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. I can’t believe she got drunk. And I can’t believe that Mallory is not. She seems to be perfectly functional.
“Oh, fine,” Mallory answers. “The girls were up a bit late, but they are both sound asleep. I thought maybe we’d have a drink, just one, you know. But Casey here got a little carried away.”
“I did not. I’m just tired.” At this she tumbles unconvincingly down to the couch, where she stretches out. “Just really, really tired.”
I walk away from her to the kitchen to get myself some water. On the table stands a fifth of Jack Daniel’s, half empty.
“I was going to have a drink myself,” Mallory tells me, sighing. “But when I saw her plowing through it I figured there ought to be one sober adult in the house. I guess the kid cracked under pressure.”
“Where did she even get that?”
“Well, that’s on me, I guess. I bought it. I was going to have a drink, like I said.”
“You bought a whole fifth for one drink?”
“Well . . . I don’t know. Wasn’t really thinking, I guess. I’m sorry. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have even brought it in the house. I thought she didn’t drink.”
“Yeah, so did I.”
Now Mallory leans into my chest. I’m forced to either hug her or stand there like a pole. I hug her back briefly. “Thank God he’s okay,” she murmurs into my neck.
I let go, and she lets me go, and I finally get that glass of water. My brain has gone numb, and there’s a buzzing in my ears.
“Well, let’s find you some pillows,” I say to Mallory, having thrown last night’s couch bedding down into the laundry pile already, not expecting she’d be here another night.
As I pass the