"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 doing something to ruin 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; and 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.
"I can't do this all by myself, dammit." I muttered as I stirred the meat in the pan and warmed tortillas. "I need help."
A half an hour later, I called Riley to the table for supper, and she came in, dragging Mama behind her.
"Where's my drink?" she muttered as she pulled up a chair and sat down. "I want my drink!"
I shoved a glass of tea at her and watched as she drank it down without stopping. I refilled the glass and put a plate in front of her. She definitely looked and acted more with it than she had when I'd arrived home, so I thought I'd take a chance.
"Mama, Patrick asked us to come to Mass," I said trying to sound like this was an everyday occurrence.
"Who?" she replied as she wrinkled her nose and picked at the food on her plate.
"Patrick," I repeated. "Father Patrick, your son?"
"I don't have a son," she said in a flat voice. "I had two daughters, but one ran off with a good for nothing loser and left me with you. And why the hell would I want to go to church? What good would it do me?"
"Patrick is your son. He went into the seminary," I said trying to jog her memory. I knew that the alcohol had wreaked havoc on her brain, but part of me wondered if she wasn't just being stubborn. "He's a priest over at Queen of Peace Parish. You used to love going to Mass when we were growing up. You were proud of Patrick when he joined the priesthood, Mama."
"I don't have a son," she said stubbornly before shoving her mouth full of burrito and chewing loudly. I shrugged and shook my head as she added, "And I definitely don't need a damn church telling me what to do."
Mama ate little more than a few bites of food, and halfway through the meal, she fell asleep, leaning on the wall next to the table. I shook her gently, but she was out.
"How did you get her up?" I asked.
"I told her that there was vodka at the table," Riley said grimly. "She got right up and headed in."
"This has to stop," I said, shaking my head as I stood up. I put my mother's arm over my shoulder and, with Riley's help, managed to get her on her feet and back to the bedroom.
Later, after all the dishes had been washed, and I'd packed lunches for the next day, I laid down on own my bed and tried to summon up the courage to face my mother and force her to get the help she needed. But all that kept popping up was the feeling of Jack's strong arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me to his chest, and the brief whisper of a kiss that we'd shared.
I felt the ache of longing running from my head to between my legs and surrendered to the fantasy for a brief time before finally falling into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN