Page 35 of Piece By Piece

“I think that might be even worse than if we tried talking to her. The last time, she decided things had to change on her own. Maybe she’ll do it again.”

Hell, how did we get here? I don’t understand how my mother could do it. How could she throw everything she worked so hard for away? If there was anything worse than the time she was always high, it was her withdrawal. There were times when she would scream and cry in pain all night, she often got sick and could barely keep down any meals, and she’d sweat excessively.

It was hard to witness, to say the least. I was already working at the nursing home by then so I must’ve been around sixteen.

I wish I knew what made her change back then but it’s not like I can ask. Maybe my dad’s right and all I can do is try to get through this and hope my mom will pull herself together soon. Maybe it’s not too late for her to go back to how things were again.

I start preparing the healthy meal I went shopping for, letting my tears stream down my face now that my dad is over in the living room. If he asks about it, it was the onions’fault. He doesn’t need to worry about me on top of everything else.

I’m just about to plate the food for my dad and me when the front door opens and my mom staggers inside, beaming in a dazed way. My stomach drops further at the sight of her, my chest growing cold. I meet her in the corridor before she can reach the living room where my dad is dozing.

Her clothes look completely disheveled and the fly of her pants are open. God, what is she doing to get her next fix? I want to scream.

“Hang on, mom. Let me just fix your clothes,” I tell her, speaking in the same voice I use on my confused patients without even noticing. Only that I am whispering now so I don’t wake my dad.

“Oh, you’re sweet. I’m so happy you’re always here now,” my mom tells me, her eyes wide and pupils constricted. My hands start shaking as I close the buttons on her blouse. This is all wrong. The last time I saw her, her pupils were dilated. Now they’re constricted. It’s not just one drug she’s taking. She doesn’t even care what it is.

I have to painfully swallow the lump in my throat before I can reply. “I made dinner. Just sit down at the table, okay?”

“I don’t think I’m hungry,” she protests weakly, but I just shoo her toward the table. I can’t argue about her eating nothing anymore. I just can’t.

On my way back to the kitchen, I gently wake dad. “Hey, wake up. Dinner’s ready,” I tell him. He opens his eyes and sits up, smiling weakly. “Oh, and mom’s back,” I add, trying to sound as cheery as I possibly can.

He lights up even more at that. “That’s a relief.” I wonder if he would say that if he saw her before I fixed her clothes. Does he know what she’s doing? Has she come home similarly the first time around? When I wasn’t there to shield my dad from it? My stomach twists at the thought.

I go to the kitchen and start plating, though my hands are still shaking, and there are tears in my eyes that try to make my job a little harder. When my mind wanders for a second and I’m too distracted to focus, I blindly reach for another plate behind the pan I just took out of the oven.

The underside of my arm presses against the hot steel and I quickly pull it away, biting my tongue to keep from crying out as I clutch the burned limb to my chest. More tears rush to my eyes and this time, I’m unable to hold them back. It’s too much. It’s all just so much too much.

I drop to the floor, crying as silently as possible as I try to take even breaths. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me and there’s an iron fist squeezing my lungs. I cover my mouth with a tight hand to muffle the sound of my sobs.

There’s no need for my parents to see me like this. I doubt my mother would care much right now, but my dad would worry about me. I can’t make this all about me.

It takes me several long minutes to calm down and breathe somewhat evenly again. Minutes in which it felt like I was dying, but this is nothing new. I had small little attacks like this since I was a kid. It’s nothing. I brush it off with one last staggering breath and get to my feet.

When I finally emerge from the kitchen with the finished plates, my long burn hidden underneath my sleeve, my parents are conversing casually. I’m glad they didn’t notice how long I took to bring them their food.

“There you go,” I say as I return a second time carrying my own plate. My dad smiles at me and immediately digs in, humming as he swallows the first bite.

“That’s delicious, honey. Thank you so much,” he says.

“Your father is right. It’s so good to have you back,” my mom adds, and I struggle to keep my small smile in place. Maybe we wouldn’t be here if I had only visited more often. Maybe my dad would’ve never had that heart attack and my mom wouldn’t have felt the need to relapse.

Throughout dinner, I barely say I word. It’s all I can do to keep forcing myself to eat. Luckily, my mother is in a talkative mood, so she and my dad don’t pay me much attention. Still, I see the way she rubs the inside of her elbow through her blouse and picks at her skin. It makes me sick to my stomach.

As soon as everyone swallowed their last bites, I get up from the table and hastily carry all the dirty dishes into the kitchen. I clean everything up quickly and transfer the leftovers into appropriate containers. Then I meet my parents in the living room again, eager to get out of here and pass out in my bed.

“So, you guys. The fridge is filled to the brim, and you have leftovers to get you at least through tomorrow. I’ll try to come over again soon. Call me if you need anything, okay?” I offer, already inching toward the exit.

“Of course, have a good night, honey,” my dad tells me. When I smile at him, my mother gets to her feet and throws her arms around me. I nearly pull a face at how she smells. A mix of smoke and dirt.

“Thank you for dinner, my dear. I’ll see you soon, yes?” she asks, keeping me at arm’s length.

I nod, smiling forcibly. “Sure, mom. Goodnight,” I tell her, pulling away. Then I go to the door and put on my shoes, so happy to finally get out of here that I nearly can’t tie the laces.

Just before I can leave, something happens though. The lights all turn off at the same time, leaving the entire house in darkness. For a second, everything is quiet, and I freeze where I am. Then, my mother starts screaming out of nowhere and I rush back into the living room, wearing one shoe.

I hurriedly turn on the flashlight of my phone to see my mom sitting on the floor with her back to the wall and her hands around her ears. Her eyes are flicking around the darkness almost frantically and she keeps screaming.

---