Page 77 of Piece By Piece

“Took her? What do you mean? Who took mom, dad?” I ask urgently. Fucking hell, if she ran into trouble with a dealer, I don’t know what I’ll do. And why is my dad just sitting there?

“The people from that fancy rehab center. Took her two days ago.”

Fancy rehab center?My relief doesn’t outweigh my confusion. “What? How? Why haven’t you told me?” My mind is reeling. Did mom finally agree to get help? And how are we going to pay for that?

“I thought you knew. Your friend came here to explain everything to me and tell me she’ll be in good hands,” he mutters listlessly. My stomach is in knots.

“What friend, dad? Lily?”How did she find out?

“No. No. It was a man. Tall, dark hair, nice clothes. Name starts with S. Or T, or something like that.” Realization dawns on me and I don’t know whether to whoop with relief that my mother is getting help or scream in frustration at Sebastian’s meddling.

Sure, he means well, but I’ve looked into rehab centers. They’re fucking expensive. I’ve just recently been able to pay him back for the moving company. Now, I’m in his debt again. Not to mention the rent he’s sparing me.

Sighing, I nod. “Okay, that’s good, dad. I’ll just prepare dinner, yeah? Then we can celebrate.”

“Celebrate that I’m alone? They took my wife,” he murmurs as I get started in the kitchen. My heart breaks a little at his defeated tone. I wish he’d stop blaming himselffor mom’s addiction. There was nothing either one of us could have done to prevent it.

“She needs help, dad. She needs help so she can come back as the woman she was. She’ll get better there. They can help her more than we can.”

He takes several minutes to reply and when he does, it feels like he didn’t hear a word I said. “I lost my wife,” he repeats, his voice trailing off.

“You’ll get her back. I’m sure we can visit her in the meantime. And, who knows, maybe now you can focus on finding a job,” I try to sound cheery. When he doesn’t reply again, I frown and start plating the food.

We eat in unnerving silence and I’m glad when he swallows the last bite, and I can do the dishes. Somewhere along the way, it feels like I haven’t just lost my mother but my father too. He looks like a shell of himself, with no smiles, and no nicknames. Just emptiness and occasional anger.

As I clean the dishes, I get lost in my thoughts again. “You still believe I can get a job?” my dad asks from behind me, startling me into dropping a plate. Sweet hell, I didn’t hear him sneak up on me.

Taking a shaky breath, I try to assure him, “Yes, dad. Of course, you can.” Despite my best efforts, my voice comes out shaky. When has his presence become so unnerving?

He stares off into the distance as I pick up the shards of the broken plate. “I lost my job, I lost my wife, and I’m losing my daughter too,” he recites brokenly, I halt in my tracks.

“What?” I ask, chuckling as a chill rushes down my spine. “What do you mean, you’re losing me? I’m right here.”

“You think I don’t see how you keep eyeing the door. You don’t want to be here any more than she did.” His voice starts trembling with underlying anger and I take a step back from him, hating that I’m scared. He hasn’t hurt me in years. There’s no reason for my heart to speed up.

“You want to leave. Everyone wants to leave! It doesn’t matter how hard I try, does it? I will never be enough for either of you.” He shakes his head to himself and steps closer, his hands grasping my arms. “So go, then!” He shakes me, making my breath stall in my throat as I stare into his wild eyes. He looks beside himself. Deranged.

I open my mouth to say something placating but before a sound can leave my lips, a loud slap rings through the house and a coppery taste explodes in my mouth. My teeth snap shut, my whole body going still and numb as shock washes over me.

He slapped me. My dad just slapped me.

I watch in silence as his eyes widen, the same horrible realization dawning on him. His hands start to tremble on my arms, his head shakes from left to right in denial.

His throat bobs. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, all his anger bleeding out of him. His eyes turn pleading as his first tear drops. I don’t move. Don’t try to tell him it’s okay when it’s not.

“I am so sorry.” Then he starts sobbing, wrenching me into his arms as he repeats how much he regrets laying a hand on me. After years of not doing it, I guess he just experienced a relapse of his own.

And I’m entirely back to being the girl I was growing up; trying to look after my addict of a mother and my abusive father.

I hold him as he falls apart, my love and hate for him mingling until I can’t even tell them apart.

Eventually, I move us upstairs into his room and hold his hand until he falls asleep. When I finally drag myself out of that house of memories and nightmares, I know I’ve missed my last bus home by a lot. I also know that I can’t stay in my childhood home for another second so I do the only thing I can. I call Sebastian.

“Aly?” Sebastian asks when he picks up after the first ring. I guess he was already awake then, good. “Everything all right? Do you need me to pick you up from somewhere?”

My bruised heart sighs happily, soaking up his caring words. His willingness to get out of the comfort of his apartment so late at night just to help me. “That would be great. How did you know?” I ask.

“You haven’t come home. I was worried about you.”

---