Page 35 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
I straightened in the chair, trying to project competence I didn't feel.
"Of course. How is she?"
"Stable. The alcohol withdrawal symptoms should subside within the next twelve hours, but she'll need monitoring."
Patricia sat beside me, her voice dropping to a confidential tone.
"This isn't our first encounter with your mother, Sadie. May I call you Sadie?"
Heat crawled up my neck because of the shame of this entire thing. "Yes."
"We've admitted her twice in the past eight months. Both times for alcohol-related incidents."
She paused, studying my face. "Are you her primary caregiver?"
Primary caregiver…
As if my mother were an elderly relative instead of a fifty-three-year-old woman who should've been taking care of herself.
Taking care of me.
"I live with her," I replied.
"And you're how old?"
"Twenty-six."
Patricia nodded, making notes on her tablet.
"Sadie, I need you to understand that if your mother continues this pattern, Social Services will intervene. Adult Protective Services takes these situations seriously, especially when there's evidence of repeated self-harm through substance abuse."
My stomach dropped.
"What does that mean?"
"Court-ordered treatment. Supervised living arrangements. Potentially removing her from situations where she can access alcohol unsupervised."
Patricia's expression softened.
"I'm not trying to frighten you, but I want you to understand the gravity. Your mother needs professional help. It's not your fault, but when they get like this…"
Her voice trailed off, as if I were to blame.
Guilt knotted in my chest.
Professional help cost money we didn't have.
I nodded anyway, because what else could I do?
"We have a bed available in our seven-day detox program," she continued. "It's covered under emergency Medicaid, and it would give your mother the medical supervision she needs to safely withdraw from alcohol."
Seven days.
A week without Mom at home, without the constant worry of finding her passed out or worse.
Seven days to breathe, to sleep through the night without listening for crashes or cries for help.
"What happens after seven days?" I asked.
