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Chapter Thirty-Six

I n some ways, my mother was predictable.

She was predictable in her unpredictability. She was predictable in the fact that she had always and would always drink. And she was predictable in the precarious cycle that our lives had always existed in.

She drank, and drank, and drank until we ended up here. In the hospital filled with the sterile smells of latex gloves and decaying bodies.

But I’d always been able to relax here. Breathe a little easier. In some ways, it was like the worst had already happened. When my mom ended up here, it meant the uncertainty of it all was gone, leaving me with a clear head to navigate the situation.

This was the best place for her. She couldn’t drink here, and anything that went wrong they’d be able to take care of. That’s how it had always been.

But I should’ve been taking care of her before it got to this point. I should’ve known how bad it was when I stopped hearing from her. Stopped getting angry texts or phone calls begging me for some request or another.

But a sick part of me had been relieved. Every time the phone dinged and it wasn’t her name, I felt the tension that had seized me up slowly ebb away.

But still, she was my mother. All I had in the world. I should’ve been there.

My mother was on a stretcher by the time I arrived, still somehow unruly with the nurses despite the weakened state I’d found her in.

She looked gaunt and hollow, and the sight of her was like a punch to the chest. I hadn’t been there to make sure she was eating. To make sure she was drinking something other than vodka.

I wanted her to miss me. To see that I was gone because of her. It was as if my absence was saying to her, Look. Look at what your drinking has done to us. Now you’re alone.

But, as always, the only one that would end up alone was me.

“Mom?” I called, running to her side, reaching out for her bony hand that trembled violently beneath my touch.

Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, but some part of her was aware that it was me by her side.

“?” she slurred. “These people won’t leave me alone. I just want to go home.”

But it was clear she was in no state to do anything of the sort. Her entire body was shaking and she could hardly keep her head up on her own.

I’d seen this before, but each time seemed to be worse than the time before.

“What’s happening?” I asked the doctor, needing to be as up-to-date as possible. I needed facts. All the information. It was the only thing that might ground me.

I hated feeling helpless. Out of control. I hated seeing my mother waste away in front of me and being powerless to stop it.

These people saw her like this: matted hair, wild, unfocused eyes, the stench of alcohol radiating from her pores. But I remembered her before it got this bad.

When I was a child, she was the most beautiful woman in the world, with golden hair and an intoxicating laugh. The woman everyone wanted to be friends with. The one every man wanted. The one I wanted, though that had never meant very much to her.

Alcohol had stolen everything from her. Her beauty, her vibrance, the very essence of who she was. Or who she could’ve been.

And in turn, it took it from me, too. Because what type of woman could I ever hope to be when my mother—my true mother, had been missing from me for most of my life?

“Her blood alcohol was dangerously high,” the doctor explained as if somehow that had escaped my notice. “She’s severely dehydrated and in the early stages of withdrawal. We’re going to monitor her closely, but sometimes complications can arise.”

That didn’t worry me. We’d been in this situation before, and she’d always pulled through. What worried me was after.

Staring down at her, I was filled with resentment so hot it burned in my chest. It was the feeling of knowing she had never shown up for me and could never because of what she’d chosen to do to herself.

It was knowing that if I called, needing her, she wouldn’t answer. Wouldn’t be able to do anything for me. How could she? When she couldn’t even help herself?

It had always been this way. Me taking care of her . Her needing me. But I needed someone, too.

If it were me lying in the hospital, she’d be too drunk or incapacitated to stand beside my bed the way I was here beside her.

And a part of me hated her for it.

But another part of me was so terrified of losing the only person in the world who was really mine.

“What can I do?” I asked desperately. “Are there any rehabs she can go to right away?”

“We can certainly talk about programs to refer her to,” the doctor said carefully.

“No.” I shook my head. “She won’t go based on a referral. We need to put her in immediately after she gets discharged,” I explained frantically.

The doctor’s expression didn’t change, as if he dealt with half-hysterical girls every day. This wasn’t his mother wasting away, after all. What did he care, at the end of the day?

“Unfortunately, rehab programs are voluntary. If she doesn’t want to go, there isn’t anything we can do about that.”

“But look at her. Look at her medical records!” I said in a passion. “This isn’t the first time this has happened. It won’t be the last, either. Can’t we use that to prove she’s not capable of making the decision?”

“What you’re suggesting would require declaring her legally incompetent,” he said cautiously. “That’s a long legal process, involving lawyers, court orders—”

I felt defeat wash over me. I didn’t have money for lawyers. I didn’t know if we even had time for that. With the route she was going, she was a few binges away from drinking herself to death.

“Please,” I begged to no one in particular.

I was so broken. So angry. At her, at the world, at the unfairness of it all. And most of all, so completely and utterly out of control.

“I’m so sorry,” the doctor said sympathetically. “But, it’s not your job to save your mother,” he said, as if this would relieve the burden from me.

As if anything would.

“We’ll keep you informed of any change to her condition,” The doctor said, but was cut off by a voice calling a name.

My name.

“?” Liam’s voice was searching, “!”

I turned and saw Liam on the other side of the corridor, calling out for me.

“Liam?” I breathed out, the floodgates of emotion I’d been trying to hold back opening at the sight of him.

Still dressed in his suit, he looked so out of place in the dingy gray of the hospital lights. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

I felt it when our eyes locked, even from a distance, I saw the relief in his eyes when his gaze finally landed on me.

He said my name again and started toward me, but I was already running in his direction, every instinct in my body telling me to just get to him.

Tears were streaming down my face now, but I didn’t care. All I knew was that I was throwing myself at Liam, and his arms were open and ready to catch me by the time I got there.

“Liam,” I cried against his chest, feeling the weight of his arms lock around me.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, his chin coming down atop my head.

I couldn’t see or hear or feel anything except Liam’s body around mine, as if he was shielding me from everything happening around me.

“It’s all my fault,” I sobbed, knowing he probably didn’t have a clue what was going on or why I was even here, just knowing I needed him in that moment more than I’d ever needed anything.

“Nothing’s your fault. Shhh.” His arms wrapped impossibly tighter, and he sounded so strong and certain.

“Everything’s a mess.”

“We’ll fix it,” he said, and I clung to him even tighter.

“You’re okay,” he reassured me, and I felt his lips come down hard against the side of my head. “You’re fine.”

I didn’t know why I was falling apart like this in his arms. Maybe it was the feeling of safety that I finally found in his arms after all this time. I knew I could let myself fall apart as long as he was here to hold the pieces together.

“You need to breathe, baby. Okay?”

In a swift movement, he lifted me off the ground and carried us over to the hospital bench. I clung to his neck as he lowered us down, his hands moving my hair back from my face.

I knew how I must look. Blotchy-faced and red-eyed, but I didn’t care because I knew he didn’t care. There was no judgment coming from him. Just concern.

I was vaguely aware that people were staring at him, but I don’t even think he noticed.

He was just here with me. Like I was the only thing that mattered.

“What’s going on, ?” he asked so softly it hurt.

How could I answer? How could I even begin to explain this big, terrible thing that had plagued me my entire life?

It had always been a humiliating secret I guarded above all else. As if my mother’s addiction was mine, too. We didn’t talk about it. We didn’t tell other people about it. That’s how it always was. Even though we were lying to ourselves, anyone with eyes could see the situation as clear as day.

But Liam? He wouldn’t judge me. I knew in my bones that he wouldn’t. I felt it, and I needed to trust that feeling. Because he’d done something that no one else in my life ever had.

Someone had finally shown up for me. So I told him everything.