Page 54 of As a Last Resort

SAMANTHA

I scheduled Mom’s rehab visit for the day of Lexi’s rehearsal dinner. Might as well kill two birds with one trip.

The hallway smelled like bleach. Not strong enough to sting your nose, but strong enough you knew without a shadow of a doubt someone finished cleaning thirty seconds before you walked in.

The floor was white and shiny and my shoes squeaked as I walked down the hall to where my mom had spent the last couple weeks. I hated how it reminded me of the hospital.

“She’s been really excited for this visit.

” Dr. Joseph introduced herself in the reception area as Mom’s counselor.

My deep dive desktop research told me there was a 47 percent chance she was an addict too.

A former addict? Recovering addict? I didn’t know the lingo or how you were supposed to address people.

I didn’t want small talk. I was clinging to my mother by the last tiny bit of rope that was fraying anyway, and I wasn’t in the mood for someone to act like they knew our entire dynamic. Like they knew what existed in the space between our conversations and our politeness.

It felt like walking down a hallway where a black hole was waiting at the end that I would disappear into forever.

For so long we had done this dance of moving around each other and ignoring the massive rain cloud that hung above us.

We were fine , with gallons of rain dumping on us, drowning us in our own heads.

I was ready to face it though. Whatever the outcome would be, at least we could stop pretending there was just Coke in the Styrofoam cup.

“She’s been doing really well. Has checked off all the boxes and has held firm to all her commitments,” she continued. “She’s become someone people count on here. Other patients. Even some of the staff.” She smiled and paused before we walked into her office.

“Your mom is working hard to change, and part of that is understanding how her choices affected the people she loves. This is an opportunity for both of you—not just for her—to process things in a safe place. You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to, but your perspective is important.”

“Sounds like fun.” I felt uncomfortable in my own skin. While hell would be a welcomed reprieve at that moment, this was the right thing to do.

My fight with Austin pulled tight like a rubber band across my chest. Work was up in the air with unknowns and questions everywhere regarding what the board would actually approve. If I stayed under Glenn, which was still a very real possibility, he’d make my life hell for what I’d pulled on him.

It felt like my life was peeling back, layer by layer. Not necessarily in a bad way, but not the way I expected. If the island was ever going to be a place for me again, a place to call home, I needed to shine a light on every dark, painful shadow with my mom.

And it started here.

“Ms. Leigh, your mother’s striving to be a different person with new habits and new perspectives. It’s important that you don’t fall into patterns you’ve always had. I encourage you to keep an open mind and ears during today’s visit.”

She pushed open the heavy door, and the moment I stepped inside, I barely recognized my mother.

She jumped up from a couch that screamed therapist office’s and made her way toward me before awkwardly stopping a few inches shy.

Her eyes were already getting misty and immediately my shoulders straightened and I was on guard.

She smiled at me. It wasn’t a fake vodka-soaked smile that told me the world was fun and exciting if I’d just wear a sombrero once in a while. It was a genuine smile that told me the world was full of pain and heartbreak, but that she was still here.

My eyes started to water and she pulled me in. I melted into her arms. I hadn’t been hugged by my mom—my sober, loving, and fully present mom—since my dad died.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered through my hair as she held me tight.

All these years, she never apologized for any of it. I swallowed to get my throat to stop closing up. She pulled me back and put her hands on my shoulders.

“There’s nothing I can do about my actions after the accident.

But I need you to know how sorry I am. For a lot of things.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you after your father died.

I was dealing with grief in an unhealthy way and I couldn’t see past what I was feeling.

I let it consume me. Eat at me from the inside out.

And I neglected you.” She cupped my face in her hands and smiled.

“My strong and resilient daughter who needed her mother, and I wasn’t there. ”

I blinked through my silent cascade of tears.

“I can never express to you how sorry I am for not being there when you needed me most.”

I imagined this moment a hundred times in my life. But I never actually thought it would happen. I never truly thought I would feel remorse from her, but I did.

She hugged me again, and I didn’t trust my voice to speak.

“Let’s have a seat, shall we?” Dr. Joseph nodded to the couch. Mom sat in the chair next to me and the doctor propped herself on her desk.

Mom smiled at me. And it reached her eyes.

“I’m sorry for the accident,” she continued.

“I should have never gotten behind the wheel. You are and will always be the most important thing in my life. My actions haven’t shown that to you, but I’m going to try and change that.

I know my promises don’t mean much to you right now, and I understand why.

But now I’m going to do everything in my power to be better for you.

You deserve that. And I deserve that too. ”

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say.

I didn’t know how this worked. Was I supposed to roll into tomorrow like everything’s changed?

Sure, this felt different. She looked different—healthy—and she had apologized for the first time in her life, and I wanted to believe her.

I really did. But when you’ve had your hopes stomped on a hundred times over, you just expect the boot to come crashing back down.

“I’m not asking you to forgive everything that’s happened,” she continued.

“There’s a lot we need to talk about and work through.

I’m just asking that you give me a chance to show you that today can look different.

That’s all.” She looked to Dr. Joseph, and off her nod, my mom asked, “Do you think you could do that?”

She wasn’t asking a lot. She was asking about today. Could I trust her enough to give her today? “Yes.”

It was such a small step. But so much weight lifted off my chest.

“Does this mean you’re coming home?” I asked.

“The center has actually invited me to stay. I have the option of continuing my program since Dr. Joseph has offered me a job.” My mom looked over at the doctor and smiled.

“It’s just temporary, but I’m not ready to jump back into life on the island just yet.

My routine is still too ingrained in me there.

It’s not long term, staying here, but something that would be good for me right now as a next step. ”

“Is that what you want?” I asked. She sounded like an adult.

A proud smile spread across Dr. Joseph’s face. “She’s been working a lot with our younger patients. She’s organized a couple events that the residents have enjoyed, and a few have really taken to her.”

Mom leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You should see what these young girls in here wear. I mean, when did belly button rings come back into style? I always thought that was such a trashy thing.”

Dr. Joseph gave her a narrowed stare. “I do think a little more time here would be beneficial for your mother. An addiction such as hers doesn’t just disappear after a certain number of days.

It’s a lifelong battle she’ll fight, so the better we can remove the temptations and consistencies she had back home, the better. ”

“I’m doing good here, but there’s still a lot to work through.”

She hesitated and looked to Dr. Joseph who gave a subtle nod again.

“Your dad,” she started and paused. The bottom of my stomach fell. She took a deep breath and began again. “Your dad was everything that held me together. When he died, I was so angry. I didn’t know how to wake up in a world where he didn’t exist anymore.”

It dawned on me that I had never heard my mom acknowledge the fact that he died. It was always when he left , or after he was gone .

“I spent almost four years watching you blame him for dying.”

“It was easier to be angry than to be sad. And I was a coward. Remembering him hurt too much. I thought maybe if I forgot he was there in the first place, I wouldn’t have to exist in a world where he no longer was.”

I knew this. I knew how she felt, but her actually admitting it felt like it meant something completely different now.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say, Bonnie?”

“A lot more, yes, but I think that’s a good start.”

The doctor looked at me. “Would you like to say anything, Samantha?”

There were so many conversations we had over the years and I never felt like she heard what I was saying. She was looking at me, expecting me to say something. Now was as good a time as ever.

I told her how once Dad died, home became somewhere that had a lot of pain and it was all I saw when I thought of it.

I wanted to leave so badly, thinking maybe if I got away from the island, away from her, it would get better.

On the surface it did for a while. I had a great job.

Lived in a busy city. Filled my time with to-do lists and spreadsheets and took on more things than I could handle just so I wouldn’t have to slow down.

If I did, it would all come crashing forward over me like a wave.

I had been running away from it for so long, it just felt normal to turn the other way. I didn’t want that anymore.

“I don’t want home to be somewhere I keep running away from.”