Billionaire's Single Mom

"Mama, you scared Riley and me half to death," I said in a calm voice. "You cannot keep doing this."

"It's my house. I can do whatever the hell I please," she replied as she covered her eyes again and shifted slightly to keep me out of her view. "Back off, girl. I don't need your nagging."

"This isn't healthy, Mama," I pleaded. "Your drinking is out of control. You need help."

Out of nowhere, my mother's hand rose up and smacked me so hard I lost my balance and fell backward onto the living room floor. I cried out as my head knocked against the coffee table, and my mother turned slightly and eyed me before saying, "That'll teach you to get all high and mighty with your mother. It's my goddamn house, and I'll do what I like in it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mama," I said, rubbing the back of my head as I scooted far enough away to be out of her reach. "But you need help."

"Fuck you, Leah," she said. "If you don't like it, there's the door. Don't let it hit your ass on the way out."

I picked up the grocery bags and walked to the kitchen where Riley sat with her back against the wall, staring out the window.

"She has a serious problem," she observed. "She really needs to get some help for it."

"Indeed she does, but there's no way we can make her do something she doesn't want to do," I said as I unpacked the groceries and prepared to make dinner. For a moment, I leaned against the counter and wondered how we'd gotten to this point and why it was so hard to change things.

"What are we going to do, Leah?" Riley asked as she stopped picking at her hand and looked up at me with a worried expression. The creases in her forehead were far too deep for someone so young, but she'd been forced to grow up more quickly than most kids her age.

"I don't know, Riley," I sighed as I stood up and continued unpacking the bags. "She really needs help, but I can't force her to do anything. I talked to Patrick last night. I'm hoping that he'll show up and talk some sense into her."

"Uncle Patrick's coming over?" Riley said, perking up.

"Father Patrick," I replied.

"Oh, right, Father Patrick," she repeated, rolling her eyes the way only a twelve-year-old could. "When is he coming, Leah?"

"He said I'm supposed to bring her to Mass, and he'll take care of the rest," I said. "But I can't see how we're going to get her to Mass like this."

"Tell her she doesn't have a choice," Riley said in a sullen tone. "Like you do with me."

"That's not fair, and you know it," I said.

"I love how adults always say that, but when kids do it, then it's always something about how life's not fair," she said. "Leah, I'm sick and tired of her always ruining things. I can't have friends over because it's embarrassing. And you never go anywhere or do anything, either."

"That's because I'm busy with work, young lady," I said trying to keep my voice from cracking. I didn't want her to know how right she actually was.

"Oh, bullshit, Leah," she shot back as she slapped the table. "All of this is such bullshit!"

"Riley! You are not to use that kind of language in this house!" I yelled as I turned and looked at her. "I know this is hard. I know Gram isn't easy to deal with, but we're all doing the best we can, okay?"

"Bullshit," she said as she got up and walked across the kitchen. She stood face to face with me, and my heart cracked a little as I realized how much she looked like her mother at that age.

"Riley, please," I said, shaking my head. I didn't want to have this conversation with her.

"This family is so incredibly screwed up, it's not even funny, Leah," she began as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me. "I'm sick and tired of all the secrets and lies and all the bullshit that goes on as we try to cover up all of the terrible things that have happened. Why did my mother leave? Why is Gram drinking herself to death? Why are you the one stuck taking care of us all?"

"Because that's what family does, Riley!" I shouted. "We take care of each other! We look out for each other!"

"Right," she scoffed as she turned away. "Like everyone else is looking out for us? Is that what you're saying?"

"Sometimes you have to shoulder the burden until it's someone else's turn, Riley," I said. "Not everything is equal."

"Oh, I know," she said as she walked out the kitchen door. "Believe me, I know."

As I cooked dinner, I turned the problem over in my head and felt guilty that Riley had a better understanding of the problem than I did, or at least she was the one who was facing it head on. I should have mapped out a plan, but the truth was that I was just too damn tired after dealing with all of the changes at work. I didn't have anything left when I got home. I'd been taking care of everything for the past three years, and I was running on empty.

The guilt and shame washed over me as I thought about all of the things I should be doing. I should be looking for Molly. I should be taking better care of Mama. I should be letting Riley be a kid. Should. Should. Should.