Page 37 of Willow Vale

Unknown number.

Before my stupid brain could catch up with what my body was doing, I was answering the call. This is exactly why I couldn’t function if I didn’t have at least six hours of sleep. I would have loved nothing more than to get eight hours, which was the ideal amount a personshouldsleep, but after carrying River to bed I’d stayed up to clean the apartment since I hadn’t had a chance to before.

“Hello?” I murmured into the phone.

“Delilah,” a feminine voice sang my name into my ear. My entire body tensed, and my heart dropped. The woman on the other side of my phone sounded too familiar, and despitebeing exhausted, nothing could have kept me from recognizing my mother’s voice. The only difference from how she said my name now was that she wasn’t screaming it at me along with about a dozen cuss words.

I used to hate it whenever someone said my full name, just because of that. I used to flinch whenever someone said my name, expecting to be reprimanded or worse.

But Travis always loved to call me Delilah. He was the only one I let call me that and I didn’t know why, only that he didn’t say my name as if it were a burden or a disturbance to his life. Over time, I started to like the way it sounded whenever he said it, gentle and kind.

“Delilah? Are you there?” Irene asked.

“Mom?” I sat up slowly, running a hand through my hair.

I heard her release a woosh of air on the other side. “Thank god! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the longest time!”

I knew that. It was just like her to not get the hint that I didn’t want to talk to her.

My hands started shaking but I kept my voice flat as I said, “Why are you calling?”

“Can’t a mother call her kid?” Irene’s laugh turned into a loud coughing fit, and I held my phone away from my ear.

I sighed, shoving the sheets off my legs before heading over to the bathroom. I wasn’t going to risk waking River up. I turned the light on and paced the length of the floral-patterned rug.

When she finally stopped hacking up a lung, I heard her say, “Listen, I don’t know if you got my messages, but I really need some help.”

And there it was.

The same thing that happened every time she called me.She wanted money. I was an idiot the last time I’d given her money after she wouldn’t leave me alone—just wanting her to stop—and as soon as I sent it, she’d disappeared. No more calls. No texts. No threats. No pleading.

“You see I got into a bit of trouble—I told you about Mark, right? I’m sure you two would get along whenever you end up meeting.” The mention of my mother’s newest boyfriend made my skin crawl. She’d told me about Mark the few times we talked, and it was safe to say he wasn’t the best company for her. Given my mother’s track record with men and their bad tempers alike, I suppose it was too much to hope she’d meet someone nice. Someone who wasn’t also an addict.

“Anyway, I took—borrowed—some money from him the other day and I lost it in the casino. Turns out he needed it and now he’s pissed. I have to get him the money or he’ll be a big pain in my ass.”

I was quiet.

So quiet that she hesitated before saying, “Hello?”

“I’m here.” My heart was hammering in my chest knowing exactly how the rest of this conversation was about to go. But I had to do it. “I can’t help you. I’m barely getting by as it is. You’re going to have to ask someone else you know.”

My first instinct had always been to help my mother whenever she asked for it. This time, I couldn’t bring myself to do it again. I couldn’t be that weak anymore. Couldn’t run to her aid whenever she felt like calling me. It wasn’t just me she could hurt anymore. I had River to think about.

Like the flip of a switch, my mother became a different person again. I could never get used to it no matter how many times it happened whether over the phone or in person. Itmade my anxiety threaten to suffocate me, waves crashing into my lungs, threatening to drown me.

“Are you fucking serious? Delilah? You’re joking, right? You did not just saynoto me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from apologizing to her. The guilt that always bubbled up whenever I said no to her made my chest ache.

There was no reasoning with her after that. I listened to her call me names, insult me, scream at me—just like she always did. When I realized she wouldn’t stop anytime soon I hung up, cutting off her cruel words.

I sat on the edge of the bathtub as I lowered the phone onto my lap. The silence was awful now. Deafening and all too lonely. It became difficult to drown out the memories of my childhood. The sadness that came with them. The momentary—and partly selfish—inability to understand why she couldn’tstop. Why this was our relationship.

Tears rolled down my cheeks and I let them flow freely as I focused on inhaling and exhaling slowly. There was no controlling the overwhelming emotions, I knew that. It was better to let it all out while I was alone than lose it around River.

I was mad at myself for being so affected by my mother’s selfishness and irresponsibility. For so long I told myself to get used to the way she was, and things would get better. It wasn’t as simple as that. It wasn’t fair to have someone treat you like a convenience only to get tossed aside like a used-up rag after.

My phone rang and rang with the same unknown caller ID, but I didn’t answer.

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