Chapter 13
Aliena
I’m still crying. I haven’t stopped crying since Sebastian locked himself in the bathroom with that girl and left me standing in the hallway like nothing more significant than a stray dog.
At first, I contemplated knocking on the door and demanding he got the fuck back out here so we could – I don’t know – talk this out? To do anything other than have him sleep with that woman. Especially after he dropped that little bomb about not having been with anyone since he met me.
That has to be a lie though, right? He picked up girls every other night and eventually disappeared with them. There’s no way he didn’t sleep with any of them.
In the end, I realized banging on the door would leave me in the exact same position he was in two weeks ago and thereby put me exactly where he wanted me. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I also didn’t want to humiliate myself even further. All I really wanted to do at that point was go home and curl up in a ball in my comfortable bed, wearing some fuzzy clothes .
So I snuck out of the club and walked home to do exactly that. I learned my lesson from the last time, though, so I only walked along the main roads and kept my pepper spray in my hand. It was still early enough for a Saturday night, after all, so there were other people out and about.
Other than getting catcalled by a group of drunk men outside a bar in the less extravagant part of the city, I got home safely and untouched. I made quick work of taking off my makeup and changing.
Now I’m here, crying into my fucking pillow as I hold it tightly against my chest. On my birthday. Like a fucking idiot.
It’s a shame. No matter how hard Lily – or the rest of my friends try, my birthday curse just seems to stick with me. Something always has to go wrong and I’m particularly sensitive because I already got my hopes up that one year, it would be different.
I’m a moron and I feel like a bitch for ditching my friends without having said goodbye. I just didn’t want to face them in the condition I was in. They would have asked too many questions, and I didn’t feel like talking.
So I texted Lily that I was home and apologized about how I left. I also thanked her another million times and insisted on what a great friend was. Because she really is.
Knowing that she’d want a better explanation for my sudden departure than that, I turned off my phone before she could reply. It’s better this way. I’m done with the day.
I wake up with a headache and swollen eyes not long after noon. I hate sleeping in, but despite that, all I want to do as soon as I open my eyes is close them again. Instead, I force myself to turn on my phone and face a million texts my friend sent me, scared that she might come over and bang down my door if I didn’t reply soon.
The last thing I want is company. I’ve always been this way when I was upset and luckily, I know Lily will respect that. To a certain point. She won’t accept being ghosted, though.
I start scrolling through the messages on my way to the kitchen to get some juice, surprised that I have a few from Mattheo and even some from Andrew. My heart feels a little lighter at their concern but at the same time, it has pressure building inside me. Now I have more people to reply to and appease.
I look up from my screen to search my fridge for the juice I was so sure I bought recently. To my dismay, it’s nowhere to be found. For fuck’s sake, another let down isn’t what I needed now.
With a sigh, I turn to my coffee machine instead. Caffeine it is, then. As that’s getting done, I lean against my counter and breathe heavily. I feel like shit, and it doesn’t get much better when my eyes fall on the letter my parents sent me. Without thinking much about it, I push myself away from the kitchen and pick up the letter. I already feel bad, how much worse can it get, right?
When I open the folded paper, I’m glad to see that the message isn’t too long.
Dear Aly
First things first, happy birthday, dear. I hope I did everything correctly and this letter reached you on the right day. If not, let’s just pretend it did;) I hope you have a great day! Maybe you can tell us all about what Lily planned for you this year when you come to visit us soon? Your father and I miss you greatly.
I’m afraid I don’t have much good news for you, my dear, and I hate to tell you this on your birthday, but you have the right to know. Your father had a heart attack and had to take leave from work. He is recovering, don’t worry, but I’m sure he’d be very happy to see you. Feel free to swing by whenever you’re free, dear, we know you’re busy.
Love, mom
By the time I finish reading, my heart is a cold rock in my chest and the tears I managed to hold back so bravely when I realized I didn’t have any juice are now an unstoppable force behind my eyes. I sigh, my whole body deflating before I drop my head in my hands and just start sobbing.
My dad’s sick and had to take leave from work. Shit, they can’t afford that. I already know what that means, why my mother texted me now. She came to the same conclusion and wants my help.
Panic seizes my chest and I take a choppy breath. I can’t believe this is happening again. I don’t want to do this. I can’t take care of them again when I’m barely staying afloat myself. I don’t have the recourses or the emotional capacity for it.
I rub my knuckles over my chest, feeling the space inside it tightening and tightening until my lungs barely feel able to expand enough for my next breath. I cry harder despite my best efforts to pull myself together. It seems I’m too tired to get myself back on track right now.
I wish Lily was here. She always knows what to do and she’s the only one that could understand what I’m feeling right now. She knows about my past, almost every feeling and situation little me had to go through.
But if I told her about this, I know what she’d say. She’d say I needn’t worry about it because she can support me and my family until they get back on track. She’d do whatever it took without hesitation because that’s the kind of person she is.
But I can’t let her do that. No way. Least of all before I had a talk with my parents and got a better idea of the situation they’re in. I don’t think I could ever look Lily in the eyes again if I let her do this for me, on top of everything she’s already done.
No, I got it. Of course, I do. I just need to survive this moment, take deep breaths, and then figure out a game plan. I have things under control. It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.
But first, it seems I have to pay my parents a visit.
“Oh, hey, dear. So you did get our letter, what a lovely surprise. Come in, come in,” my mother bustles when she opens the door for me, her smile too wide for the circumstances. She steps aside, yelling, “Albert, it’s Aly!” Then she pulls me in a tight hug.
I pat her back awkwardly, really just wanting to see my dad. When she finally lets go of me, I shoot her a forced smile and ask, “Where’s dad?”
“On the couch, come on,” she replies, already leading me there as if I didn’t know the way. She seems awfully fidgety.
When I see my dad lying on the couch, his face pale despite the small smile playing on it, my steps falter. Fuck, I didn’t think it would be this hard seeing another parent look so weak in the same spot my mother always used to suffer her crashes out on. But now I’m here, struggling to keep any flashbacks at bay and my voice even as I greet him.
I can’t stand this house.
“Hey, dad,” I say, crouching down next to the couch to be at eye level with him.
“Hey, Honey,” he replies, gently placing his hand on mine – a gesture oddly affectionate for him. He’s normally not very touchy, and I try not to react to the discomfort it invokes. He looks past me to tell my mother, “Linda, will you give us a second?” He gives me his attention again as soon as her steps disappear. “How have you been, Aly?”
I give him a look. “I’ve been good, dad. I’m not the one who had a heart attack.”
He keeps smiling, undeterred by my flat voice. “That’s good to hear.”
I can’t believe him. “Dad, what happened?” I ask. I mean, a heart attack? Really? I know he hasn’t had the least stressful life but he’s not that old yet. Definitely not the age where I should have to worry about him dying of natural causes.
“The doctor said it was just due to stress. I’ll just have to eat a little healthier, exercise a bit, and take my medicine and I’ll be just fine. It looks like I won’t even need surgery.” Thank god for that. There’s no way my parents could have afforded heart surgery. He squeezes my hand before his face turns somber. “I’m afraid it’s not me we have to worry about,” he adds, his voice taking on a hush.
I’m sure my confusion is clear in my features even when the man gives a meaningful look in the direction where my mother disappeared in. My dad lowers his voice impossibly further. “Honey, I think your mother relapsed. It was a great shock for her when she found me on out cold the floor and had to call 911. She was upstairs when it happened, you know, and heard me fall.”
“What? No. What makes you think she relapsed? She’s been clean for years,” I protest, aware of the panic I’m unable to mask rising with every word.
“They gave me pills after I was released from the hospital. Morphine, among others. A week ago, I was unable to find the nearly full bottle of them and when I asked Linda about it, she said I probably just misplaced it when I know I didn’t.”
The last of his words only barely reach me through the fog clouding my mind. My mother stole my dad’s morphine? That’s not possible. She wouldn’t relapse after so many years of being sober. Especially not at a time like this when my dad needs her. She’s the only one able to work at the moment and she knows it. If she loses her job, they’re screwed. She wouldn’t take that risk. Not because of a little stress.
She can’t be that selfish. I don’t want to believe that. Plus, she doesn’t seem high right now. I’m sure I’d recognize that.
My dad keeps talking while my mind is reeling. “I know how hard this must be to hear for you and I hate to burden you with this. I just think it might help if you came over for visits a little more. Only if you can squeeze it into your tight schedule somehow, of course. But maybe that could give your mother something to look forward to and distract her. She always talks about how much she misses you.” He gives me a pained smile as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me with those words.
Every one of them hits me right in the chest and fills my stomach with more and more guilt. I can’t believe we’re having this talk. My father had a heart attack, for god’s sake, and I only learn about it two weeks later. What kind of child does that make me?
And now my dad tells me that my mother’s addiction might become a problem again because I couldn’t be bothered to visit them some more. After everything they did for me growing up.
They need me and yet, my head manages to somehow make this about me as the panic within me rises. I don’t want to do this again. Hell, I can’t do this. Not when I’m already struggling to keep my own head above water with the low salary I get. How am I supposed to take care of an addict for a mother and a sick father?
“How long is your leave of absence? Is it paid?” I ask, hating how selfish the motives for this question are.
But my dad just shakes his head. “I didn’t take leave from work, Honey. That’s what I told your mother so she wouldn’t panic.”
“What do you mean?” Damn, I almost sound like a kid to my own ears. A hopeful kid that knows, deep down, that it’s about to get some terrible news.
“I was laid off, Honey. I’m already looking for a new job but it’s hard with the condition I’m in.” Just like that, the world starts spinning.
“They fired you? How? Is that even allowed?” I demand shakily. He ignores me and squeezes my hand again.
“I am really sorry, Aly. Please, don’t worry about it too much just yet, okay? I’m sure everything will be just fine. Maybe I’m wrong and your mother just slipped. It doesn’t mean she’ll go back to the way she was. And I’m looking for a job. Until then, we have a few savings we can survive off of, and if need be, we can always sell the house and move into a smaller apartment,” he tries to assure me. It only makes me feel worse. If he’s already thinking about such matters, things can’t be as good as he wants to pretend.
“I want to help. Tell me what I can do,” I insist.
“For now, I have things under control. Just promise you will visit a little more, please.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t come here sooner, dad. You need to keep me posted from now on. On your health and mom. Give me your phone, I’ll put in my new number,” I say.
I never bothered to give my parents my number, most of all because I didn’t want them to be able to reach me so easily. I wanted an excuse to only reply to their messages after some time, but things changed now. I need my dad to be able to reach me if he needs to. I’m the only one he can count on.