Page 36 of Worth the Risk

“Now you guys are adorable.” My cheeks flush and I don’t dare to look at Liam. Ryan watches from behind her with a smirk on his face. “Ryan, can I trust you to take a picture of Emi and I or will you break it?”

“I think I can manage.” He rolls his eyes as she reluctantly lets go of the camera. Liam walks off, standing behind Ryan while Rosie and I pose for the shot. “C’mon let’s get creative ladies.” We all laugh, coming up with a number of different funny poses that Ryan takes creative angles of. Rosie takes the camera back, giving it the photography club supervisor before rejoining our crew. I take in my friends, thankful for each of them. Today has been a great day.

Chapter 23

Emilia

Two days before Thanksgiving break my mom called and begged me to come home for the holiday. Shocked didn’t even begin to describe how I felt when I saw her name pop up on my phone. Before two days ago I hadn’t heard from her since the summer when she asked if I was coming home via text and when I told her no, that I had found an apartment, she never answered.

I still don’t have a car, I need a few more weeks to keep saving for one that will be reliable enough for the next semester. So I’m taking the train that runs from town and west to the center of the state where I grew up. Our campus is thankfully in a town with a station, though it is about a ten-minute drive across town to get to said station.

Liam was kind enough to offer to drive me before he headed to his parents’ home in the city for the holiday weekend. I just finished shoving my laptop in my small duffle that I’m bringing, enough for a two-night stay, when there’s a knock at the door. I open it and am greeted by a smiling Liam.

“Morning Emi. I brought your favorites.” He holds up the paper bag from his hands, decorated in The Blue Bean logo.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” He reaches for the duffle that I’m holding.

“Switch.” I do as he says since there’s no use arguing with him.

“I figured these will hold you over on the train.” I simply nod, no matter how many times Liam does these sweet gestures, I can’t seem to get used to them. The butterflies in my stomach flutter. I’m still too chicken to take the risk. His friendship has come to mean so much to me, he’s one of the only people I’ve felt comfortable to open up to and I don’t want to lose that.

On the short drive, Liam tells me all about his last few baseball practices. How he feels like he’s having a breakthrough with some of the freshmen. I love hearing about his passion, which I think most people assume is baseball but I can tell it’s deeper than that. It’s helping people. Making a difference.

“Are you sure I can’t drive you all the way?” Liam asks when we pull up to the station. He’s been trying all week to insist on driving me all the way to my moms house, which is about an hour drive. Slightly longer on the train but I told him that wouldn’t make sense as he would have to head back towards campus and then another hour or so in the opposite direction to his house. Plus the city and pre-holiday traffic can be brutal.

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine, plus I have some delicious sweets to keep me busy thanks to you.” He smiles at that, parking the car, he hops out and I do the same. He retrieves my duffle from the trunk chucking it over his shoulder. I hold out my hand to take the bag from him but he just shakes his head.

“I’m walking you down and waiting until you get on the train.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Emilia, please. I need to make sure you’re safe.”

“Okay.” I nod and we head towards the station. I like the idea of him needing me to be safe far too much.

“Text me when you get there, okay?” Liam pulls me into a hug as the train makes its way into the station.

“I will.” I promise him. He nods and kisses me on the forehead before pulling back, handing the bag over to me. He releases me just as the train stops for people to get on. “See ya soon.” He calls as I’m about to get on the train. I send him a little wave back, not trusting my voice after that display of affection. Good thing I have the next hour to myself to over analyze this interaction.

The apartment where I spent my high school years and where my mom still resides is small, disorganized and dark. My mom always joked she was allergic to the sun, something I believed when I was little. Now I know the truth. Her apartment smells like stale beer. I try to light a candle in my small bedroom, which consists of nothing but a twin-size bed and a comforter covered in a layer of dust, but one small candle isn’t enough to rid this place of the stench she has created. I couldn’t even begin to guess the last time she cleaned up this place. I raid the fridge to see if she has any food that she might cook tomorrow for the holiday but I come up empty. A loud sigh escapes me, leave it to my mom to not even be home to greet me or buy food for the day when she was the one insisting on seeing me. Still, I hope this trip will be different so I head out and walk to the local grocery store just around the block.

After buying some groceries for tomorrow, cleaning my bedding and then the rest of the apartment I am utterly wiped and ready for bed. Of course now is the time my mom finally walks in the front door. She’s probably been at some bar all afternoon or somewhere getting drunk. To my knowledge she isn’t working and is still living off of grandma and grandpa’s life insurance.

“My baby!” She stumbles through the door, practically falling over.

“Hi, mom.” I wince, watching her come into the apartment like a baby deer in her tall, thin heels. I never understood why she wore them. She could barely hold herself up in them sober, never mind when she’s had a few drinks. Growing up she told me boys loved them and that was why, to say she had unstable relationships and unreliable advice would be an understatement. I move over to her, putting her arm around my neck and mine around her waist to help guide her to her bedroom. I never thought my mom and I looked much alike, her hair is slightly darker than mine, her frame more slender but we do have the same eyes. However, the older I get the more I don’t see any of myself in her at all.

When we get to her room my mom plops down, her back on the bed and I pull off her heels. I grab her a glass of water and Tylenol from the kitchen, for the impending hangover heading her way. A routine we are very familiar with. I wonder what she does with me no longer living at home? I shrug off the thought. It’s not my problem, I remind myself.

“You cleaned.” She mumbles, shifting herself to lay on her side.

“Mhmm.” I hum, bringing the covers over her and placing a trash bin by her bedside. By the time I looked back at her she’s already asleep, letting out her soft snores. Shaking my head, I retreat to my bedroom before crashing for the night.

I wake on Thanksgiving morning to my alarm, I groan but push myself out of bed anyways. If I want a halfway decent Thanksgiving meal I am going to have to prepare it myself and I am not going to let the ingredients I bought last night go to waste. Since it’s just mom and I, I chose a small ham that would be much easier and quicker to cook. I pull out the potatoes, corn, green beans, and stuffing mix, scattering boxes and bowls over the countertop to get my lineup sorted out. Before I start on my first dish my phone dings, I pull it from the pocket of the hoodie, Liam’s hoodie, that I had taken to wearing again now that the autumn air has fully settled in and is making way for the bitter chill of winter.

Liam

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