Chapter 44
FORTY-FOUR
ANDY
Declan
We made it to AZ last night. I'll call you after tonight's show.
Me
Can't wait to hear from you. I miss the sound of your voice.
Declan
Me too, Mama. Been so fucking busy.
Me
Don't forget about me tonight. I want to talk if you can.
Declan
I could never forget about you. You're forever marked on me. Mind, body, and soul.
Me
I got your gift last night ;) Thank you for it *photo of purple rabbit vibrator*
*video attachment using purple rabbit vibrator*
Declan
Fuuuuuck baby.
Now I'm sitting here hard as fuck about to jerk off and imagine I'm balls deep inside of your tight hot pussy.
Me
Soon, baby.
Declan
Not soon enough.
It's been over a week since Declan left, yet it feels much longer with the lack of communication. His texts throughout the day are rare, and at night they become nonexistent. I've tried calling and texting when I know he's likely to be at the hotel after the show, but every call goes unanswered. Sometimes, he'll respond and say he got held up having to do something with his bandmates after the show; other times, he's too tired to talk.
I hate that I've become the clingy girlfriend who waits beside her phone waiting for the moment it beeps with a new message. My phone has been glued to my hand since he left.
Declan is doing what he loves. Singing the songs he wrote that mean everything to him and being swarmed by fans every night. Of course, his days no longer revolve around me, but I wish they did. I miss the man I've fallen in love with.
Negative thoughts often creep in.
Declan's one of the most famous rock stars in the world; why would he waste his time with me?
Everyone outside of small-town Loganville seems to know who Riot and Declan Valentine are. Thankfully, he hasn't been recognized during the almost two months he's been here, which, if I'm being honest, is surprising as fuck.
But what do you expect from this small religious town hidden in the Nevada desert? Their only version of acceptable rock music is Christian rock and church hymns that are slightly faster-paced than others.
It's Saturday, which means I didn't have to work today. Usually, my Saturdays consisted of breakfast and park dates with Declan and Max, but today, it consists of lunch with the woman who gave birth to me.
Diane Harris wears her short, thin brown hair in straight strands down to her shoulders. Her bright-blue eyes are clear from the fog that is typically present, and for the first time in years, she looks alert and present—aware of her surroundings and what is going on.
It's been nearly two months since I've last seen her. I had been okay with that and wouldn't mind going another two months, but she'd been blowing up my phone recently, asking to meet. She claims she's sober, but obviously, I don't believe her.
How can I? Many times in the past, she's told me that she's sober and promised to stay that way for me. Every promise she ever made to me was broken. I've given up on the fantasy that I'd ever have the type of mother I desperately want. Part of me will always ache for a loving parent to support me and guide me through this big, scary world, but I'm also aware it'll never happen.
I grew up hearing that God had a plan for everyone, and apparently, his plan for me was to be alone. I must've fucked up big time in a past life.
As I approach the back table where Diane is sitting, my eyes never leave hers, searching for any sign that she's under the influence.
"Hi, Andy. Thanks for coming." Her thin figure stands, fingers nervously playing with each other. She's uncertain about hugging me, and I can't blame her because so am I.
I don't remember the last time I hugged my mom, but I'm not ready to take that step today, so I sit across from her instead. She sits back down, a small smile curling on the corner of her lips.
"It's so good to see you."
"You wouldn't stop texting, so here I am." My words come out harsher than expected. All week, she's been texting and calling, claiming she's sober and begging for another chance with me. Promising to be the mother I deserve if I just give her a chance. After a week of deleting the texts and ignoring the calls, I agreed to meet for lunch. I'm unsure why, but I did, and here I am.
"I know you hate me, but I'm glad you came. Where's Max?"
"At the park with her friend." Lucy was all too happy to take Max to the park with her and Haley while I came to lunch with my mom. I didn't want Max around unless I knew what I'd be walking into. My guard is up, and I don't trust Diane. Not when she's spent years lying to me.
We sit silently for a few minutes, staring at each other, unsure what to say. The awkwardness creeps in until she finally decides to put us out of our misery by speaking.
"I'm sober now, Andy." I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I've heard this so often that I'll never be able to believe her. She's sober for at least one week every month when she's out of money. She'll spend the week withdrawing, and then the moment her government assistance check hits her account, she's calling her dealer. She used to ask me for money when she was out, but she quickly learned that I'm not willing to give her a single penny, not when I know what'll happen the moment the cash touches her hand.
I'm not a heartless monster. I have helped her in the past, so I know what happens with any money she receives. The same day after giving her twenty dollars, she smoked it away. I know this because I passed her dealer on the way out of her trailer. That's when I swore I'd never help her again. I work hard for what little I have, and I'm not going to waste it by allowing her to smoke it away or shoot it in her veins.
"Been nearly two months now. Haven't touched a single thing since the week you walked out of my house." she intertwines her slim fingers, hands resting on the table. Her pale skin is ghostly compared to my brown skin. "You have no reason to believe me, but I swear to you on everything. I am clean." She's saying everything she's told me many times before, only this time, she's holding eye contact, and her eyes are clear.
I'm not sure if she's telling the truth about being sober for the last two months, but I know that right now, she is sober. I can tell by the lucid look in her eyes.
It's a look I've spent years wishing to see daily.
"One day, I hope you'll be able to forgive me for everything I've done to you. I wasn't a good mom, and you didn't deserve that. You were my innocent little baby who loved me so much and just wanted me to be present and be there for you." Emotion clogs her throat, and tears fill her bright eyes, but she doesn't allow them to fall.
"You didn't deserve any of that shit, Andy. I'm so fucking sorry, but I know it'll never be enough."
"Why should I believe you? What's different this time compared to all the others? You've said this all to me before."
"I know I have. This time is different, but I don't know how to make you believe it. I'm done with the drugs. I'm forty-seven years old and have been an addict since I was eighteen. I'm so fucking tired of this life and all the shit I've wasted and missed out on. Didn't get to be your mother because drugs controlled me. Didn't get to meet a good man and get married because who would want an addict?" She laughs humorlessly, wiping her snotty nose with a napkin. "I don't want to miss any more of my granddaughters or your life. I've missed enough, but I'm begging you, please give me another chance. Please allow me into your life to be there and get to know you." How sad is it that she's asking to get to know me after twenty-one years?
"You've let me down so many times, and I promised myself I'd never let you do to Max what you did to me. You're not going to disappoint her the way you disappointed me."
Her head hangs. Sniffling, she brings the Kleenex to her nose and blows it. "I know." She sighs. "I don't deserve your forgiveness or another chance, but I'm begging for it. I'm begging you to get to know my granddaughter."
"You weren't there when I needed a mom. Grandma had to be that motherly figure for me because you were too damn high all the time. I'm twenty-one, and I don't need a mom anymore. It's too late for you to swoop into my life and suddenly want to become a mom to me." She'll always be my mother, but I don't have space in my life for her to claim that role. Not when I spent years begging.
Her head pops up, blue eyes full of pain and sorrow staring back at me. Her bottom lip trembles. She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut in before she can say anything.
"It's too late to be a mother to me, but maybe we can be…" I say, thinking about what role she can play in my life. She stares at me with hopeful eyes. "Friends. Maybe we can be friends and get to know each other."
Relief washes over her. Shoulders that were raised to her ears in tension and worry lower in relief, "Friends," she parrots. "We can be friends." A small smile curls on her thin lips.
I nod my confirmation.
"Thank you. I'm not going to let you down this time." She straightens her posture. "Shall we order? Lunch is on me today." It's on the tip of my tongue to ask her how she can afford it, but I refrain from any snarky remarks that'll likely make her feel bad about herself. Especially when we're both trying.
Instead, I nod, and she waves for the waitress to come over and take our order.
After we ate and she paid the check, I grabbed my purse and stood beside her outside.
As I approach my car parked at the curb, I ask, "How did you get here? "
She shrugs, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I walked." My eyebrows raise in surprise.
"You walked twenty minutes to get here?" That's not long, but considering Diane Harris has never been willing to venture into town alone, let alone on foot, I'm surprised. She once asked me for a ride to the gas station across the street from her trailer park.
A pink hue tints her cheeks. Is she embarrassed? I don't think I've ever seen her be embarrassed about anything. "Yeah, well, I've been walking a lot lately. The fresh air has been nice. I go out for a walk about twice a day. One in the morning, and then one at night to my meeting at the community center."
She's never gone to meetings before. I hope she's telling the truth and that this time will be different, but I'm also not holding my breath because I'm tired of being let down. It's better not to have expectations; that way, you're less likely to get hurt when someone inevitably lets you down.
A proud smile lights up her face, and I return it for the first time since meeting her here. "That's great. I'm happy for you." Pulling the keys from my bag, I click the button to unlock my car. "Get in. I'll give you a ride home."
"Are you sure? I don't mind walking."
"Yeah, Mom. I'm sure." Tears fill her eyes again, and I can only assume it’s because I called her mom .
She opens the passenger seat and climbs into the car without saying anything else.
For once, I'm hopeful for the future with her. I'm still guarded, but I pray this time will be different.
I need this time to be different.
Me
You'll never guess what I did today.
I had lunch with my mom.
She's been sober for two months. For once, I believed everything she said to me. It was a good day, and I'm happy I went. I want to tell you about it, so call when you can.
I miss you.