“Hey, son.” It’s my dad who answers, which is odd because he never calls me.
I sit up and turn the volume of the television down. Nova and Quinton aren’t in their bed, but I hear the shower running, so I’m guessing they’re in the bathroom.
“Why are you calling from mom’s phone?”
“Because… Well, because I left mine at home, and I really need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”
“Okay.” I reach over and flip the lamp on. “What’s up?”
“It’s… it’s your mom.” He struggles to speak as if he’s on the verge of crying. “I had to… I had to check her into...”
“Into where?” I ask when he doesn’t finish. I think I already know the answer, though.
“Into a… hospital…” He trails off, cursing under his breath. “God dammit, this is so bad, but I didn’t know what else to do. She stopped eating and spent all of her time at Ryder’s grave. Then she... Well she had a nervous breakdown, and I just think maybe some time… some therapy might help her.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad.” It’s all I can think of to say. I feel bad for being the kind of son that can’t comfort him. For being the kind of son who couldn’t stand being around his mother enough to help. The kind of son who doesn’t feel terribly upset his mother has been hospitalized.
What kind of sick person am I?
“Yeah, me too,” my father murmurs, and then he starts to cry.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell him, even though I’m not positive it is. I don’t know what else to do or say when he’s clearly losing it. It’s not like when I’m trying to comfort Avery and all these uplifting words spill out. My past with Avery isn’t twisted and ugly. “You’ll get through this. And I’ll come visit if you need me to.” I cringe at the idea of going back home again.
“You would do that?” he asks in shock.
I sigh. “Well, I’m not as bad of a kid as I used to be. I do care about you guys.” In my own way.
“We care about you too.” It’s probably the first nice thing he’s said to me since I was twelve, and it causes a lump to swell in my throat. “Your mom… she’s just been confused lately, but I’m hoping this will help her get to a more mentally stable place.”
“Yeah… I hope so too.” And I really do. Shitty parents or not, I don’t want my mom to suffer.
Someone says something in the background, and then my father tells me, “I have to go. I’m still at the hospital filling out papers, but I wanted to let you know.”
“Keep me updated.” I start to say goodbye but then remember… “Wait, did Mom ever report that whole Dylan thing like I told her to do?”
“She didn’t, but I did,” he says. “And Dylan was arrested yesterday. They found him crashing in that trailer park you used to hang out at all the time. I’m not sure about the charges, but I know he’s behind bars at the moment. Hopefully, he’ll be there for a very long time, for that girl Delilah’s sake. Such a sad story, isn’t it? I actually ran into her mother the other day, and she looked wrecked.”
“Yeah, it’s…” I don’t know what else to say. After seeing firsthand what went down between Delilah and Dylan, part of me feels guilty about how it ended, even though I did try to stop the abuse. I think of Avery and how Conner is still torturing her, and it makes me want to protect her every second, every hour of every day. “I’m glad he was arrested.”
“Yeah, me too,” my father says. “Look, I have to go, but I’ll call you tomorrow and give you more details about your mother’s condition after I talk to the doctor.”
“Thanks,” I say and then hang up, feeling lost and confused.
The confusion only increases throughout the day, and by the time I arrive at the worksite, I’m beyond unfocused, something Avery instantly notices.
“You seem out of it,” she says while we’re working to put sheetrock up inside the home. The walls and roof are now up and the windows are in, although the interior is being heavily worked on. The siding also needs to be put on along with the roof shingles, but it’s coming along.
“I just have some stuff on my mind.” I stick the end a screw into my mouth while pressing the base of another into the drill bit.
“Want to talk about it?” she asks, plucking some sheetrock debris out of her ponytail.
“I don’t want to bring you down today.” I touch the drill bit to the wall. “You looked so happy when you walked up.”
“That’s because I felt happy this morning.” She bends down to tie her shoelace when I turn on the drill and press the screw into the sheetrock. “But I kind of owe you for the meltdown on my birthday,” she continues when I shut off the drill.
“Avery, you don’t owe me anything,” I promise her as I set the drill on the floor and sit down on a turned over bucket.
She glances around for a seat, hesitating before plopping down on my lap. “Tell me what’s bothering you, or I’m going to take away all of your brownie points.” She looks puzzled on where to put her arms before she finally just loops them around my neck.
My body is tense underneath her. Things have remained friendly since her birthday, and I was under the impression the kissing and touching was a onetime thing. But, now she’s here, sitting on my lap, and the scent of her is so intoxicating I can barely think.
“My dad called this morning… about my mother… being hospitalized.”
Her eyes enlarge. “Oh, my God. Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s not hurt or anything.” I summon a deep breath, and before I can stop myself, words pour out of my mouth. I tell her about my mother and father and our rocky past. I tell her how much I let them down. I even find myself telling her about what my mother said to me the day Ryder died. Then I tell her about my mother’s meltdown.
By the time I’m done, my chest feels less heavy, like I can finally breathe for the first time in years. If only I could take it one step further and tell her about the darkest part of my past—the things I did for drugs—then maybe I could feel completely weightless.
But I can’t get that far.
I fear that Avery won’t look at me the same.
Fear she won’t look at me at all.