Leah
I held Riley until she cried herself to sleep, then I got up and made a phone call before going into the living room where my mother lay sprawled out on the sofa with a glass of vodka in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I stood staring at her until she turned her head to look at me.
"What the hell is your problem?" she barked as she raised the glass to her lips and drank deeply.
"You are my problem, Mama," I said quietly. "You've been the problem for a long time, and I'm sick and tired of it. You're not going to ruin Riley's life the way you ruined Molly's."
"Why, you ungrateful little bitch!" my mother spat as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. "I've done everything for you, and this is how you repay me?"
"What have you done for me, Mama?" I replied in a calm voice. I knew what was coming next, and I knew how I was going to change the script. "Tell me, Mama."
"I gave birth to you. I raised you, put clothes on your back and food in your mouth," she rattled off the list of things she'd done ending with, "And I'm your mother."
"You did do those things, and I'm grateful for what you did to get me to this point, but you're sick, Mama," I said as I leaned against the wall, feeling nothing but pity for her. "You're angry and sad, and you took your feelings out on Molly and Patrick and me. Molly didn't make it, but Patrick and I did, and I'm not going to let you drive Riley into the same place that Molly went, Mama. I'm just not going to allow it."
"And what are you going to do, Little Miss Smarty Pants?" she taunted. "You think you can raise a twelve-year-old all by yourself? Good luck with that, sweetheart. You have no idea what it means to do that kind of hard work."
"In case you haven’t noticed," I said. "I already am. And I’m fairly certain I can do a better job that you did, if for no other reason than I'll be sober."
"You useless little cunt!" my mother screamed as she tried to push herself up off of the couch. The alcohol had robbed her of her ability to right herself, and she fell back amongst the blankets as she shook the hand holding the lit cigarette at me. "You were always the ungrateful one. The mouthy little upstart. I always hated you."
I inhaled sharply as the words flew out of her mouth. I'd always known that she didn't love me as much as the other two, but this was the first time she'd actually said it. I nodded then turned away to answer the tapping at the front door. I opened it and found my brother standing on the other side as I'd expected.
"She's all yours," I said wearily as I pulled the door wide open and stepped aside. He looked at me quizzically and then laid a hand on my shoulder. He was dressed in black and wore his collar, and for a moment, I had the urge to address him as Father.
"I've got it, Leah," he said quietly before turning and heading into the living room. I stood watching from the doorway as he sat down on the edge of one of the wingback chairs that Mama had always shooed us off of saying they were for co
mpany.
"Who the hell are you?" Mama demanded to know.
"Mama, it's Patrick," he said softly. "We need to talk."
"I have no idea who you are, and I don't want to talk to you," she said waving him off before taking a long drag of her cigarette and blowing the smoke in his direction.
"But I need to talk to you," he said bowing his head. He dropped his voice and began speaking so softly that I couldn't hear what he was saying. I assumed that was on purpose, so I walked out the front door and sat down on the porch giving them some privacy.
I tried not to think about what was going to happen next, and instead, let my mind wander back to kissing Jack Yates. It had been a long time since I'd kissed anyone like that—or anyone in general. I could still feel the warmth of Jack's lips and the solidness of his chest under my fingers. I'd wanted to let go. I'd wanted to feel his hands roaming my body, but I knew that if I'd done that, I would have most likely lost my job.
"Dammit!" I cursed as I slammed my fist into my thigh trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "When is any of this going to get easier?"
"Probably not tonight," Patrick said as he stepped through the door and stood out on the porch with me. "Sorry, I couldn't help but hear you."
"What did she say?" I asked trying not to get my hope up. "Will she get help?"
"Leah, listen to me," he said as he walked over to the porch swing. I scooted over and gave him room to sit down. "Mama is really sick inside, and I don't know that any of us can help her. I don't know that we can't, but I think her road back is going to be long and hard. She doesn't want to get well, Leah. She wants to stay in the place where she drowns the pain and then wallows in it."
"But she could get into rehab and stop drinking," I said helplessly. "She could sober up."
"If she wanted to," he said taking my hand. "But she doesn't want to, Leah. That's the hard part of all of this. She doesn't want to leave the pain behind. She's angry and hurt and lonely, but she'd rather stay that way than deal with everything sober."
"But Patrick …" I whispered. "I can't … Riley can't …"
"No, you most definitely cannot," he nodded as he squeezed my hand. "We've got to get you out of this house as soon as possible. You and Riley need to stay somewhere else. You can stay at the parish house for a few days, but there really isn't enough room for you there."
"But we can't leave Mama here by herself," I protested. "She'll starve to death or hurt herself or burn the place down."
"I'm going to work on finding a caretaker for her, Leah," he said patting my shoulder. "And I'll look into housing for you and Riley, but you two can't stay here. Riley won't survive it."