Chapter 35
MADDY
I sat beside Mom’s hospital bed on a hard vinyl chair as she dozed after having another severe flare-up. Her IV blipped away. She wheezed, straining for each breath as the oxygen tube beneath her nose sat at a precarious angle. I fought back the tears.
Frustration and fatigue had embedded themselves into my bones. Would Mom learn this time to take better care of herself? Probably not . She didn’t seem to care that her pneumonitis had worsened. I’d flown back to LA last night and found her flaked out on the sofa with a raging fever after she’d been on a picnic with friends. Too much sun. Too much drinking.
Unable to get her temperature down and her breathing under control, I’d rushed her to the hospital.
Nothing motivated her to get better. If I had to be more involved in monitoring her condition, some serious changes would have to be made. I didn’t want to regret not spending time with her as her health deteriorated. With my show’s extension, that only meant one thing—Mom had to move to Canada.
Less travel would do my health wonders. I’d miss coming home to LA every two weeks. I’d miss catching up with Sutton, old friends, the band... and Slip .
It had been excruciatingly hard, but I’d ghosted him for the past six weeks, ever since Sutton’s party. Walking into his home, finding him high and playing like a crazed man on his guitar, had scared me out of my wits. His bloodshot eyes still haunted me every time I tried to sleep. It had broken my heart. I had enough stress in my life dealing with work and Mom—I didn’t need any more.
Was I a coward for walking away? No. It had taken all my strength to leave. But we’d broken each other enough. We didn’t need to do any more damage. Or cause more issues. I would’ve stayed to help him through his addiction, to be there for him like Sutton had said . . . but I’d been a part of the problem. The best way to help him get better was to stay away. I checked in on him via Sutton and the guys to make sure he seemed to be doing okay. He was surrounded by people who loved him. I loved him too, but my energy needed to be directed elsewhere...on my health, and seeing a therapist to get well, and on taking care of Mom.
Yes. She had to move. I had to convince her to relocate when she woke up.
Easy, right?
Nope. Definitely not!
As she rested, I skimmed through my social media on my cell phone, liking my friends’ Instagram posts and Snaps of events they’d been to, the shots my castmates had taken behind the scenes during filming, and the photos of them enjoying a night out at dinner. Then...images of The Flintlocks from five days ago reappeared in my feed. First, a stunning black-and-white photo of the guys hugging on stage in Auckland, the last night of their tour. Second, the band celebrating and cheering with their entourage and road crew backstage. Third, the guys asleep on their plane home. I homed in on Slip, and my heart constricted into a tiny ball. Tears welled in my eyes. I missed our texts, our calls, our laughs.
We hadn’t been strong enough to survive.
I blinked away my tears. I still needed to file the annulment. Some days when I thought about submitting it, I was too exhausted to turn on my laptop. Other days, I simply forgot. I’d been so busy with work and Mom’s health taking another turn for the worse, I hadn’t had time.
A message from Sutton popped up on my screen:
Sutton: So good to be home. All I’ve done is sleep.
Can’t wait to catch up.
Not sure if you’ve seen this?
She sent a link to a GossipOnline article:
Sebastian Lipfield Rushed to Hospital, then Checks into Rehab in Palm Springs.
Shit! I’d been detoxing myself from the news, avoiding the online gossip for my mental health. Funny—my therapist had said the scandalous stories had played a big part in feeding my issues with Slip. But this was from Sutton, so I clicked the link and read the story.
The end of The Flintlocks’ successful tour has taken its toll on Slip—Sebastian Lipfield—the rock band’s party-loving guitarist. Rumors of alleged affairs, alcohol and substance abuse continually surrounded the twenty-six-year-old during their nine-month global tour.
The Flintlocks released a statement stating Sebastian had undergone urgent surgery to fix an ongoing hip injury and was suffering from fatigue and exhaustion. He is taking time out in a luxurious facility to rest and recuperate after a grueling tour.
We wish him a speedy recovery.
Since the band returned home to LA on Monday, there have been no sightings of his wife, Madison Reed. The couple hasn’t been seen together for several weeks. We speculate the relationship has been put under pressure during their lengthy months apart. Only time will tell if they survive this recent turn of events. Or are they just another couple who didn’t survive a spontaneous Las Vegas wedding?
I sniffled and wiped the tip of my nose with my fingertips.
You’re in the right place, babe. Get better. Love you.
“Hey?” Mom murmured. “You okay?”
I dabbed my damp eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie. “Yeah. All good.”
Mom frowned as she realigned the pillow and shook her head. “Maddy. Don’t lie. What’s happened?”
“Everything’s fine.” I switched off my cell phone and slid it into my purse on the floor. “Slip just checked into rehab. He’s finally getting help.”
“What’s he going to rehab for?” Shock flitted across her hazy eyes.
“Pain-killers, booze, drugs. He struggled during the tour to manage his hip injury. He became too dependent on oxy and other stuff. It scared me. I’m just glad he’s finally getting help.” Pity Mom didn’t do the same thing. She was on more drugs and alcohol than most people I knew combined. She wasn’t on a plan to manage her condition; she was on a rapid path to self-destruction. And I hated it. She wouldn’t admit she had a problem. Or do anything to get well.
As I drew my shoulders back, tension tightened in my neck and jaw. Acid burned in my eyes. Something inside me snapped. I clutched her hand and gave it a hard shake. “Maybe you should go to rehab too. Get off half the meds you’re on and take better care of yourself, so we’re not sitting here every few weeks.”
“Me?” Mom lifted her head an inch off the pillow. “I’m not an addict.”
“Yes, you are. You have more of a problem than Slip does. You’ve been reliant on so many drugs for years. Some...no, most days you pop more pills and drink way more than he does. In no way is downing a bottle of wine or more a day considered healthy. You’ve OD’d on Xanax more than once.” I waved toward her IV. “You love getting shit pumped into you for pain relief. You have a dependent addiction, Mom, whether you like it or not.”
She wheezed and coughed as she pulled her hand free of mine. “I need medicine to survive. It’s not my fault I’m sick.”
“I never said it was.” I dialed down my tone. “Certain meds you’re on help you. But there is a lot of crap you take that isn’t necessary. With some simple cutbacks and adjustments, you could have a comfortable, long life.”
“I don’t need you telling me what to do.”
“Well, someone has to.” I jabbed my finger against the mattress. “Coming home and finding you flaked out, drunk, and drugged to the eyeballs is beyond stressful and upsetting. I can’t handle this, Mom. Not anymore.”
“Oh Maddy, don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth. You don’t listen to anyone. At least Slip manned up and recognized he had an issue and had the courage to do something about it before he got worse. ”
“Yes, that is good. I’m glad he’s getting help.” Mom smoothed her hands over the blanket draped across her waist and lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. I’ve never meant to scare you either. I’ll get better. I promise.”
I wished I could believe her. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. “No more loose promises, Mom. We need to make changes. Big ones.”
“We will. I will. About that...” She straightened on her bed. “What’s happening when Slip gets out of rehab? Have you two worked things out?”
“No.” I slumped back in the chair. “I’ve had no contact with him since Sutton’s birthday last month.”
“Why not?” Confusion drifted across her eyes.
I’d told no one other than Sutton about what had happened at Slip’s place after her party. It hurt too much just thinking about it. It had taken time to process that Slip and I had derailed and ended up in more of a mess than we’d been in when we’d started. “We couldn’t find a way to work. We held onto a dream that wasn’t viable. Our lives are too busy and too separate. He’ll always be jetting off somewhere with his music and is tied to the band. I’m in Vancouver and have to take care of you.”
Mom’s head sank deeper into the pillow. “Oh, Maddy—”
“No, Mom. It’s fine.” It wasn’t. But I had other priorities and responsibilities that overruled any feelings I still held for him. “You’re more important.” I had no room for anybody else in my life. “Slip and I had too many hurdles we couldn’t overcome. We couldn’t give our relationship the time it needed, and it caused too many trust issues.”
“Sweetheart.” Sorrow washed over her eyes. “That man adores you, and...” She winced and closed her eyes. “You love him.”
I shrugged like I didn’t care, but my heart didn’t share the same sentiment. “It doesn’t matter. ”
“Yes, it does.” She shuffled around on the bed to face me. She coughed, wheezed, and straightened her oxygen tube, then pinned me with a stern glare. “So stop right now. I hate seeing you miserable. And it’s my fault.” Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head. “I’ve been an awful mom. I saw how much you loved each other, and I got jealous. I was afraid he’d take you away from me. I’ve never found anyone to be in a relationship with because of my health. I never trusted men after your father left. I was hurt, scared, and wanted to hold on to you.” She closed her eyes, and her chin trembled. “I’ve done some horrible things.”
A chill ran down my spine, straightening me in my chair. “Like what? What did you do?”
She lowered her gaze and fidgeted with the blanket. “There have been times I’ve called you home from functions or your catchups with friends so I could spend more time with you. I may have exaggerated one or two incidents so I could see you. I opted to have my operation, so you’d come back from Italy and we could have our time together.”
“What. The. Fuck?” I leaped from my chair and paced the room. “You lied to me?” My heart splintered like kindle. My own mother? “Slip told me you were playing me, and I refused to believe him.”
“He was right.” Shame sucked the light from her eyes. I wanted to tear them out.
“Fuck, Mom.” I jabbed my finger at her. “I live my life around you. Do everything for you. And you’ve just used me? Taken advantage of me? Stressed me out?”
“Not always, but on occasion...yes. I’m so sorry.” A tear slid down Mom’s cheek. I hoped it burned her flesh.
“You’re sorry? Is that it? Fuck...” I stopped at the foot of the bed. My head fell back as I closed my eyes. Exhaustion pressed down on my shoulders. “I am so tired. Tired of work and worrying about you and Slip. The stress is killing me. My health suffered and I don’t sleep well anymore. I’m over everything.”
I sank onto the end of the mattress. What a fool I’d been.
“Oh Madison.” Mom flicked her tears away. “I hate seeing you unhappy. I have held onto you for far too long. You are a beautiful woman with so much love and care to give. You deserve to follow your heart and be with someone you love.”
“I did...do love Slip. But it’s over now.” God . I sounded like a Roxette song.
“Stop being afraid. He’s not Noah. He’s not your father.” Solemness dialed down her tone. “Slip might always struggle with pain, and constantly fight the allure of a pill or drink, but there is no one more capable of helping him deal with those things than you. You are strong. Much stronger than you think. It took strength to walk away, but it takes even more strength to stay together. You love him, so fight for him.”
“I have. I’m over it. Done.”
“Sometimes you need to quit, but now is not that time. He needs you, and you need him. I’ve pushed you to have a great career, so you didn’t have to rely on someone to support you. You’ve done that. You’ve worked so hard and have taken care of me, but in doing so, you’ve refused to let anyone get close to you. But Slip got through the cracks.” A warm glint returned to her eyes. “I hate to admit it, and may not show it often, but I like him. He puts a smile on your face. He doesn’t take any bullshit and deep down, I truly believe he’s a good man.” Mom leaned toward me, drawing the IV tube onto the bed. She rested her bandaged arm across her stomach. “You have the chance to be happy. Do whatever is necessary to make that happen. I’ve messed up your life for long enough. You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’ll be okay.”
I wished life was that simple, but it wasn’t. I picked at the fluff on the cotton blanket. “I can’t do that, Mom. It’s not possible when you need care. Whether you want to admit it or not, your health is deteriorating. So I can look after you better, I need you to help me out and move to Canada. Just while I’m working on this show.”
“No.” Mom shook her head as she rested back against the bed. “I’m not leaving LA. Bridget will look after me.”
Bridget already went beyond the call of duty to take care of Mom. I couldn’t burden her with more tasks and responsibilities. “She’s an employee. She needs time off. A life. She can only look after you part-time around her other health-care work.”
Mom pursed her lips as she fidgeted and wound her oxygen cord around her finger. “What if that changed?”
Confusion stumbled through my brain. “How so?”
“What if she doesn’t want to be my paid caretaker anymore?”
My pulse spiked. My temples throbbed. “What? Does she want to quit? Did you lie to her too? Has she gotten a new job?” Shit. I didn’t have time to find someone else.
“No. She’s not quitting. She’s still working at the hospital but needs somewhere to live.” Mom’s voice turned sheepish. What the hell is with that? “I was hoping it would be okay with you if I asked her to move in with me.”
I rubbed at the tension drilling through the center of my brow. Did I want someone else living in my home? I was hardly ever there. Would that matter? I guess not. “As in, have a housemate?”
“Um...maybe something more than that. We’ve grown really close over the past couple years.”
My breath shot from my lungs. I gaped, struggling to form words. “Mom? What do you mean?”
Her cheeks turned a dark shade of rosy pink. “She doesn’t want to be my part-time caretaker anymore; she just wants to be with me.”
“Holy. Shit!” I nearly tumbled off the end of the bed as I swiveled toward her. “Are you two a couple?”
“No.” She pursed her lips together, then smiled like a teenage girl with a crush. I hadn’t seen my mom look like that...ever. “But there’s a connection. We’re friends. Companions. Maybe growing into something more. We’ve talked about it and want the chance to see if it evolves.”
I blinked a gazillion times per second, shocked to my core. “And you want her to move into my house?”
“Yes. But you should be with Slip. Your husband. At his house. Your other house. Or at your place.”
My shoulders slumped, too heavy to hold up. “Mom, it’s too complicated. Too messed up. We’re not meant to be together.”
Mom snapped her eyes shut. Her jaw tensed. Then she let out a slow, wheezy breath. “Madison. That’s enough. I’ve been a shitty mom for a long time. I don’t want to dump my problems on you anymore. I want to work toward stabilizing my condition and living healthier. For Bridget and you.” Sincerity set in her tone. “Marriage isn’t easy. It takes work, commitment, and trust. Your father and I had those things for years, but his heart lay elsewhere. I saw that for a long time but denied the facts. Being honest, I probably saw Noah wanted Jocelyn too, but ignored the signs. But with Slip, he only has eyes for you. Why don’t you try to fix things?”
I sniffled and tucked my hair behind my ear. “I don’t have time.”
“You will if Bridget moves in with me.”
“Mom.” I rubbed her leg. “I’m glad you’ve found something special with Bridget. She can move in.” I wouldn’t have to fly home as often. I could spend time with my castmates. Focus on work. Void my marriage. “I’ll be okay. It’s time to let go of Slip and move on. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”
Yes . . . maybe . . . definitely.
After dinner with Sutton.