Page 58 of Maddox
The following day, I receive a call from an unknown number. Last I heard Mom was in a treatment facility and although I’m hopeful for the outcome, I’m not in the right frame of mind to speak with her.
However, this is more than likely her and I can’t put it off any longer.
“Little bird, how are you?” she says when I answer.
I’m relieved that she sounds coherent, if a little quieter than normal but I’m not sure what to say.
I’ve got a pit in my stomach a mile wide. I miss her and I want so badly to confide in her, but I don’t know how.
With every day that passes I feel as though I’m closer to the precipice of losing my damn mind and I’m afraid of what that might mean for me.
All this circles my brain before I mumble, “Good. I’m good.”
“Good,” she says, “and Joey? How’s your dad?”
Visions of the gun and patch hidden in the damn closet dance over my brain, and I glance at my closed bedroom door before collapsing to my back.
“He’s fine,” I lie.
I thought I knew my family. As it turns out there’s a darkness writhing below the surface of my world.
Does she know that my dad is or was affiliated with a bunch of bikers? What about his name? Did he change it? Why?
After a brief pause, Mom says, “Peter got your report card. Delaney, your grades are slipping.”
Shit. One of these days, I’ll remember to update my contact information at school but frankly it hasn’t been a priority.
“It’s nothing,” I say. “I’ll catch up.”
Why are we talking about this? Six months ago, I ran away in the middle of the night.
My brother is dead and she’s calling me from a fucking treatment center because she slid into drugs, and I don’t even know how she got there. Doesn’t she want to talk aboutthat?
It’s not like I know how to express my hurt and anger but it’s weird that she hasn’t asked. If she thinks this is some stupidrebellious phase I’m going through, then she doesn't know me at all.
“You’re so close to graduating, Delaney. I would hate to see you lose sight of that.”
“I’m doing the best I can,” I say, tears pushing at my eyes.
I’m so tired. I don’t want to do this anymore, but I’m stuck and until I make a decision one way or the other, I’m not going anywhere but back to that damn diner to make more money.
“I know you are,” she says softly. “I heard you broke up with Micah. Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?”
“Micah?” I mumble. What are they buddies now?
Whatever. He’s the least of my concerns. That’s done and I hope the asshat moves on before I lose my damn shit on him.
“Yeah, sweetie. I know how much you cared about him.”
Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I choke back a laugh.
Of course, this is her focus because the last time we truly had a conversation, that’s what my life was about.
Micah. Cheer. My friends.
I’m not that girl anymore but how would she know that? The distance between us is so great and the bigger it gets the harder it is to bridge the gap.
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I say, slashing my hand through the air for my own benefit because she can’t see me.
