Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Lydia was dealing with the animals. I wasn’t sure if she’d taken them yet or not. I figured things were more hectic than I realized, but Emerson was shielding me from it so I could focus on my mom.
He also didn’t bring up that he knew I’d be staying, that he would stay with me and what that meant for us.
I was sitting in the room with Mom now, Emerson back at the hotel, when she asked, “Sammy…what’s wrong?” She raised the head of her bed so she was sitting up.
“So much that I’m not sure what to focus on first,” I admitted.
Shock flared in her gaze. It wasn’t the type of response either of us was used to from me. I always said nothing was wrong. I always said I was okay, but the truth was, I didn’t know if I’d been okay in a long time.
“I’m in love with someone,” found its way from my mouth.
“Not Molly.”
“No, not Molly.” My gaze tilted down. “And the thing is, they were leavin’ Ryland. I was gonna go with them. I wanted to go. Wanted to see what’s out there and if I want that for my life, but how do I answer that question if I don’t know? If I don’t try?” A teardrop hit my jeans and soaked through, then another and another, painting a design on my pants. “I’m not sure how to do that, though…how to leave you. I get that it’s not supposed to be that way. I know it’s not, but what would you do if I wasn’t here? Who would take care of you?”
“Sammy…”
“No, don’t. I gotta finish.” I swiped at the salty stream on my cheeks. “I feel like that’s my job, like it’s my responsibility. Who am I if I’m not Sammy Joe, takin’ care of his mama? I thought it was time to find the answer to that, but now you’re hurt, and I’m so fuckin’ angry with you for it happening, and at the same time, I hate myself for being pissed at you. Part of me thinks this is a sign that I’m not supposed to leave, but that’s not what it is. This is your disease…and not getting help…and years of enablin’ you. My brain, it knows that, but I cling to this idea that I can wish you better or take good enough care of you that you don’t get hurt…that if I stay, you’re the reason I’m doin’ it, but that’s not it.”
Part of it, sure, but not all of it. I pushed Emerson to open up, to be honest with himself and me. Maybe it was time I did the same. My mom’s disease wasn’t my fault. “I’m scared to even try and figure out who I am outside of this. It’s comfortable. It’s home. What if I leave and I’m nothin’? All I was ever supposed to be is Sammy Joe, Carrie’s boy. Molly’s best friend. Deliverin’ mail and takin’ odd jobs just to feel like I’m good for something.” My chest was too tight, my cries trapped there the way the truth had been locked inside me. “What if I was never supposed to be anything more than this?”
Her face was stoic, her gaze looking out in the distance like she wasn’t in there at all. A single tear leaked out, which she wiped away before turning to me. “You’re more than that. You’ve always been more than that. I am not your responsibility, do you hear me, Sam?”
Sam. My mom rarely called me Sam. It was always Sammy.
“You’re more than that; you deserve more than that. It’s a mother’s job to take care of their kids, and I didn’t do that with you. I let you parent me, and there’s nothing I’ll ever regret more, but I’m not your responsibility,” she repeated. “That stops today.”
I nodded. Afraid to answer. Afraid to hope.
“As soon as I’m able, I want to go into a program. This was a wake-up call. I understand if you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me either, but it’s true.” I nodded again, wanting her words to be true so badly. “It’s more than that, though. I’m setting you free. My sobriety is my fight, and I damn sure plan to fight it this time. No one can battle this for me, and I’m gonna, and you’re gonna go and figure out who you are outside of this…outside of me. I won’t accept anything else.”
The chains I’d always felt around me began to loosen, to slip free. “You’ve hurt me…so much. I know you’re sick, but you hurt me.”
“I know. God, I know. I’m gonna fix it. I promise.” She didn’t cry the way she usually did, and somehow that was better, like in that moment, she truly was taking responsibility for herself.