Page 160 of A Dirty Business
“Oh.” My god. I was making this so much worse than it needed to be. “I’m staying here.”
“What?”
“I—”Sucha mess. “I—I got suspended without pay. And I lost my job at the nightclub. I’m trying to be smart, thinking ahead, trying to keep what little bit of money I have saved up. You weren’t here. I didn’t know when you’d be coming back. I hope—Jesus. I hope you don’t kick me out.”
“You did all this because you need a place to stay?”
What?“No! I did all this because I was terrified you’d come here, be pissed I moved myself in, and we’d go back to you hating me. I, just, if you don’t want me here, tell me. I’ll figure something else out. I can’t be the reason you start drinking again.”
Her eyes widened. “You think I’d blame you if I started drinking again?” she whispered.
“Mom.” Dammit. My voice was all raspy too. Emotions were blocking my throat. “You tried to kill yourself. I couldn’t—don’t ever do that again. Please don’t. I can’t—” Grief rose up, taking me over. I couldn’t function.
Who was this person? I didn’t like her much. Her was me. I was talking about myself.
“Okay. First.” My mom’s voice rose, getting sharp. “I did not try to kill myself.”
I paused because ... huh?
“You didn’t?”
She shook her head, a whole look of wisdom shining through. I knew I’d never seenthatside from her. Rehab did do wonders. “No.” She was firm. “I didn’t. I was drunk, and I got mixed up with what meds I could take with alcohol and which ones I couldn’t. I had a splitting headache that wouldn’t go away, so they were wrong in their initial assessment, but they also weren’t wrong because I did almost kill myself. It was by accident. I’ve done a lot of therapy to know that I’m not suicidal. I’m not built that way, but I am angry, bitter, and getting older. I have a lot of regrets and yeah. Holy shit. I thought I’d have some time before doing this with you.”
I flinched. Again, it was my fault. Again, I was the problem.
“Okay. I’ll ...” What would I do?
Go to Trace’s?
“You what?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Trace and I got back together, or I think we did. I can go to his place.”
“No. I don’t know what you’re talking about. My god. Do we have anything here to drink?” She went to the kitchen. I trailed as she was opening the fridge. “And everyone can relax because I’m not asking about booze. Tea? Something.” She was looking at what was inside. “Oh. You said you cleaned everything out, not that you stocked the whole place up again. Lots of green juice. What are these things?” She pulled out a bottled drink.
“It’s a probiotic drink. They’re healthy for you.”
“How the fuck you pronounce that? Komb-agch-aw?”
I laughed. “Close enough.” I moved around her, moving the water aside. “There’s lemonade, and I have a whole pitcher of tea.”
She was looking at me.
I stepped back. “I remembered how you used to love tea when I was little.”
“You remembered that?”
I shrugged, looking away, not knowing what the hell was going on. Where was Trace? Didn’t take a half hour to put her bags away. “You made the stuff all the time. Tea in summer. Then it was hot tea in the fall and winter. I loved that shit too.”
“Thank you.”
I paused, hearing the break in her voice.
She was fighting back tears, and she touched her hand to my cheek.
I froze. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched me like this. With affection.
“You always did take care of me back then. Nice that you’re doing it again. I started drinking tea again at the treatment center. I think it soothes my soul or some shit like that.”
