Page 111 of One More Kiss

“Maybe I should go check on her…” I say moving to stand. While I understand the humor, fear also tries to claw at me.

“Darling, she’s fine. I gave her everything she needed in the bathroom before I left. She’ll come out when she’s ready,” she pats my hand.

“I hate everything,” Margot comes out of the hall looking like a demon from Hell. Her skin pasty, eyes dark, and hair a knotted mess.

“Wanna talk about it?” I ask innocently.

“No.” She sits in the chair across from me with her face against the table.

“You look like shit.” Asher observes.

“Fuck you,” Margot groans, but it comes out mumbled. Asher chuckles.

“So, Gen.” Mrs. Tiernan starts and immediately my spine straightens from the use of my actual name. “I talked to the hospital this morning, and they said- “

“That you should probably bring some of your moms’ things from the house.” Asher cuts in. My eyes bounce between the two as Mrs. Tiernan stares at her son and he stares at me and his plate eating the last of the eggs.

“Did they say how long they were going to keep her?” I ask hesitantly.

“They didn’t. But I think that’s probably something we should ask when we get there.” Asher answered quickly.

Margot makes a snorting sound from her place on the table saying, “smells like some bullshit.”

“Maybe it’s just your breath?” Asher suggests. Margot groans.

“I should probably get ready to go see her. Can one of you guys give me a ride to my place?”

“I’ll take you after I shower,” Margot tells me finally sitting up.

“No, she won’t. Asher can take you.” Mrs. Tiernan says.

“Why can’t I?” She asks

“Only people with keys can drive, Margot. Consider yours gone.” Mrs. Tiernan says leaving the room.

I ruffle through my mom’s closet sniffing shirts and pants trying to find something that smells somewhat clean. I gather numerous clothes that I swear I washed last time she was home and shove them in the torn duffle bag held together with duct tape.

I go to the bathroom that honestly should probably be condemned at this point, gathering my shampoo and conditioner to bring since I assume she hadn’t had time – or perhaps money, to get her own since being back in town. I sigh sitting down on the closed toilet seat running my hands through my hair.

“Do you want me to grab anything else?” Asher asks looking at me from my bed across the hall.

“I’ll have to stop at the pharmacy on the way to the hospital. Her toothbrush has some kind of fuzz on it, and she should probably have a clean comb.” I say grabbing the plastic Walmart bag we decided on for the toiletries.

“Is that all you think she’ll need long term?” He asks grabbing the bag.

“I don’t know. Do you think she’ll be there a while?”

Asher shrugs his shoulders. “I imagine it’ll take awhile to recover. Especially if you choose to send her to rehab,” he says looking at me, definitely not saying something.

I sigh, “I want her to get clean. And I don’t see much choice, but I just don’t know how she’ll take it.” That’s a lie, I know exactly how she’ll take it. She’ll rage, and scream. Probably throw things.

She will hate me for this.

I just hope that at the end, when she’s sober and can come home, she’ll see why I did it.

While the rest of the hospital oozes of enough sterilization that it makes your nose hairs burn, there’s no other way to describe the smell of my mom’s room than a stale bar. While I’m used to the odor, the moment Asher enters his hand discreetly moves to his nose.

“Why is she cuffed?” I yell, noticing the police grade handcuffing her to the bed.

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