Room 452

We do an annual company party every year around this time. It usually isn’t so close to other events, and since we just had the trip to Mexico recently, it wasn’t on my mind. The annual party isn’t as elaborate as that trip though. It is usually just a rented hall with food and drinks and a DJ. Usually some awards are given out and such.

“Did you want to come with me?” He asks.

I pause. “Why does it seem like there is an ulterior motive for this?”

He chuckles. “We haven’t spent much time together recently. I miss you is all.”

I don’t respond right away because it feels like there is more. “I was going to stop by to see your mother as well. We haven’t visited in a while.” He says.

I sigh. I knew there was more to the story. He’s right though. I haven’t gone to see her in a while, but I can’t revolve my life around her, especially when she hasn’t put in any effort to talk to me either. She’s still my mom though, and I don’t have anything else going on today.

“Okay.” I respond to my dad. “What time?”

???

After we stop by the caterers and pick out the final food options, we head over to the facility my mom is staying at. It’s not exactly a rehab center, and she’s free to come and go as she pleases, but the center has a bunch of on site activities and different therapy options every day. The idea is to have addicts stay here after rehab to slowly readjust to the real world again.

It’s all under my dad’s expense of course. She hasn’t worked a d

ay in probably the last twenty years. Half of that time she’s been zonked out on some sort of medication or drug. I vaguely remember the time before when she seemed healthy. At least to me as a child she did. Who really knows.

That’s how I like to remember her, which is why I don’t visit often. The past five years have only gotten worse. There’s only so much you can give a person before you have to let them make their own choices, which I guess she has been for most of my life.

Although technically my parents are still married, she hasn’t lived with us since I was eight. My dad tried to help her for the first couple of years, but eventually they both decided it would be best if she didn’t live with us anymore. He didn’t want her around me unless it was under supervision.

That’s how it always was growing up. We’d never know when she’d blow back in town. Sometimes I’d go six months without seeing her. She became more like a distant relative that you only see for family reunions or something.

It wasn’t all bad though. My dad’s sister lived a few blocks down the road from us, and she would help out. It became normal for me to not have a mom. I still don’t really feel like I have one. Even though I still see her every once in a while, I don’t really see her that way.

We walk up to her room on the second floor, and my dad knocks. My mom opens it a few moments later. She doesn’t look good. She hasn’t ever since she went off the deep end back when Sawyer was stealing all our sales.

I blamed him for that night for the longest time. Maybe if my dad wasn’t so distracted with the business, he would have been paying more attention. I still remember getting the call from my dad that night. We didn’t think she was going to make it this time. Someone found her in an alleyway, and she was pretty much at the point of death. An ambulance rushed her to the ER, and she barely survived.

She was too far gone this time to want to accept my dad’s help. She refused to check herself into rehab and was trying to find ways to steal more of my dad’s money. My dad paid for her apartment and for a grocery delivery service, so she always had a place to be safe. He removed her from all joint accounts though. She willingly let that happen in the beginning otherwise he would have had no choice but to divorce her. I am not really sure why my dad stays married to her other than he must still love her. I know he’s slept with other women, but I guess he doesn’t ever want to get married again.

Looking back now, I know Sawyer had nothing to do with any of it, but it’s easier to find someone to blame. I think my dad still does. It’s why he doesn’t want to be in the same room as him. He reminds him of my mother and what happened.

Don’t get me wrong, Sawyer is still an asshole, but I can’t put this on him. I don’t know if finding out about Sawyer’s past is what changed my mind. Before I thought he was just some self-entitled, arrogant asshole who got everything he wanted. Now I know he’s still all of that, but he also had a rough past.

“Hi mom.” I smile at her, and she pulls me into a hug. Her body feels frail and weak like she is an old woman.

We chat for a while, and she tells us what she’s been up to, which isn’t much since she mostly hangs around the facility. She nods toward my dad. “Dad told me you were expecting a call from a boy today?” She asks, smiling.

I narrow my eyes at my dad. “Did he now?” I laugh because calling Sawyer a boy just doesn't seem right at all.

My mom laughs too. “Yes, and he must be right. A mother can always tell.”

I smile back, but the words rub me wrong. How could she tell anything about me? She barely knows me. She’s more of a stranger to me than some of my other relatives. I try not to show her how I’m feeling though. I don’t want to upset her and send her down another spiral.

That’s how it always is with her. You have to constantly be walking on eggshells. I am forced to take care of her when she was supposed to be the one to take care of me.

We join her in the cafeteria for dinner, and then we say our goodbyes. Who knows the next time I’ll see her. She might not even be here anymore. You never know with her.

My dad gives me a soft smile as we walk back out to our cars. “You okay?” He asks.

I smile back. “Yeah, I’m just tired. I was out late last night. I think I will just head home now. Get to bed early.”

He gives me a hug goodbye, and I let out a sigh once I close my car door. I do feel tired, but it’s not from lack of sleep. I’m drained emotionally. I need an escape.