Page 82 of Stupid Dirty

Second, evaluate how he is when he’s not being dragged down by that asshole every day, and talk about options for addressing it.

Third, tell him I love him.

Today, we’re only dealing with step one. And thank fuck, because step three is way scarier than it should be.

“Mom, can I talk to you?”

She’s awake at a reasonable hour, smoking a cigarette while she puts on makeup for her shift slinging burgers at DQ. It’sa new job, and she has to drive nearly two hours to Franklin because she’s burned most of her bridges around here, but so far she seems to be taking it seriously, which is more than I could have hoped for.

I agreed to compromise on the smoking inside thing because she’s been following the rest of the CPS safety plan to a T. She’s been going to NA and AA like she’s supposed to. I’ve seen no sign of drugs in this trailer, despite turning it upside down at least once a week, and even though I’m not convinced she’s totally sober all the time, she’s at least keeping it under control enough to be functional and present.

Which is more than I’ve ever gotten from her before.

“Sure, hun, what’s up?”

Part of me wants to deliberately not ask permission. To prove that I’m in charge here and she fucked up too many times to deserve a vote. But I think the hospital was a wake-up call for her. She’s never going to act like a real mom if I don’t treat her like one sometimes.

“How would you feel if I asked Silas to move in with me? Here?”

She freezes, mascara wand in mid-air, and eyes me in the mirror.

“That’s a big step. You sure you’re ready for that?”

I nod, something settling in me as I do it. I’m used to bullshitting my way through a lot of situations, but in this case, it’s not bullshit. This thing with Silas isn’t going anywhere. I want to do whatever I can to make it work.

“Yep. I know there’s not a lot of space, but he’s gotta get away from his dad. And between the three of us, we could probably start saving up to move someplace that isn’t thirty percent toothpaste, y’know? I… I love him. He belongs here with me.”

She looks at me. I feel like she wants to say something, but she’s holding back to not piss me off. That’s another thing that’snew with her, although it’s the one new thing I’m not crazy about.

“Well, I think we both know I gave up the right to boss you around a long time ago, even if I don’t always act like it. I never protected you like I should have when you were little; I was always too busy trying to make it to the next day in one piece.” She sighs, looking me over one more time. “Maybe now’s the time to make up for that. You do what you gotta do, and I’ll back your play. Deal?”

“Thanks, Mom.” I feel more emotional than I expected to, and I can tell from the shine in her eyes that she does, too. We’re both comfortable with big, loud emotions like anger and grief, but this kind of quiet support feels unfamiliar. It’s like an ill-fitting second skin, but it’s not something I want to shrug off yet. When she reaches out to touch my face, I get a glimpse of some alternate reality where all the pain and trauma of her childhood didn’t boil over and leak into mine, and we were happy.

Not that this is so bad. It was rough getting here, but right now I’m pretty happy with what I’ve got. And I think I’m doing a damn good job of giving Maddi and Sky a better chance at normalcy than me or Silas ever had.

“Thanks, Mom.” I’m repeating myself, but I need her to know I really mean it.

“Of course, hun. I’ll see you after work, okay?”

She leaves.

Now I just have to get Silas on board.

I decided to hold off on asking the girls how they felt about it until after I ask Silas, just in case he says no.

Not that I think he will. Even though there has been some tension between us lately, I know we’re on the same page. That tension is coming from how miserable he is, and that misery is coming from Travis fucking Rush and his bullshit emotional abuse.

This will fix everything.

I know it.

When I approach Silas’ house, I don’t see Travis’ truck out front, which I take as a good omen. Silas isn’t expecting to see me until tomorrow night. I know this could wait, but I feel like I’ll burst if I don’t talk to him about it now.

Plus, the radio silence I’ve been getting from him via text is starting to freak me out.

Pulling into the driveway, I try not to trip over my own feet with nerves as I park, hop out of the cab and jog up to the front door. There’s a long enough pause after I ring the doorbell that I think maybe Silas has gone out, but his truck is sitting in front of the garage and this isn’t a ‘go for a walk’ kind of neighborhood.

Maybe he’s napping.

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