Chapter 20 #2
Trev watched me grow up, was there for me long after Dad was gone. Taught me how to change a tyre and fix a leaky tap and introduced me to Pink Floyd. He’s the best man I’ve ever known.
A better man than my dad, that’s for sure.
“Sam.” He pulls me into a hug, and I breathe in the familiar scent of his washing powder and aftershave. “How was the journey?”
“Pretty clear all the way through,” I mutter, glancing at the house.
Trevor follows my gaze and the smile on his lips fades. “I’m sorry to call you. I know you didn’t particularly want to come back, and I can’t blame you, but I was so worried. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“No, it’s fine,” I assure him. “I’m glad you called. I wish I’d known sooner.”
“I’m ashamed I didn’t put two and two together for so long. I should’ve seen the signs, should’ve done something to help.”
“She always was good at hiding it,” I say softly. “You have nothing to be ashamed for.”
“I don’t know how to help her. She’s shut me out completely,” he replies, his expression sad.
That’s the other thing about Trev. I’m pretty sure he’s been in love with my mother for years, but he’s settled for being her friend. That’s what she needed at the beginning, and they’ve never moved past that. I’m not even sure she knows how he feels.
“It’s okay, Trev.” I reach out and give his arm a reassuring pat. “I’ll stop by and talk to you after I’ve seen her.”
“Please do.” He nods. “What’s going on? Your mother aside, I’d like to know how you’re doing in London.”
“I will,” I promise, and as he heads back into his house, I approach Mum’s.
I don’t even have a key anymore, although I did take one with me when I left. At least, I think I did. Those months are still a bit of a blur. When I searched through my stuff after Trev’s call, though, I couldn’t find it.
I could ask Trev, he’s also got a key for emergencies, but there’s probably no need. Knowing Mum, the back door’s either open or there’s a spare under the garden gargoyle.
I head around to the back and try the door’s handle first. Sure enough, it’s unlocked, something I was always on at her about, but I guess some things never change.
Stepping into the kitchen, I’m hit first by the smell—the pungent scent of a bin that needs to be emptied. Dirty plates and glasses are piled up in the sink, and the counter is lined with empty bottles: several of wine, a couple of vodka, and a Jack Daniels.
Shit.
I move through the kitchen into the hallway. The carpets are long overdue a hoover, and there’s a thick layer of dust on the pictures lining the walls. Frame after frame of me and her—and Trev.
Stepping into the lounge, I hear the TV playing quietly, and my heart hurts.
There she is. Mum is slumped in one of the armchairs, an open bottle of Jack Daniels and a half-filled glass on the coffee table next to her. She’s staring at the telly, but her eyes are glazed, and I can tell she’s not really taking it in.
Fuck. It’s barely past lunch, and she’s already half cut.
“Ma?” I say softly, but she doesn’t hear me.
I move further into the room, noting the mess and the half-closed curtains shutting out the world.
“Mam?”
Her bleary eyes turn to me and widen. She doesn’t say anything, just watches as I sit on the footstool in front of her in order to put us at the same height.
I’m shocked to see how much weight she’s lost since I last saw her. She was always a pretty woman, never flashy but took pride in her appearance. Now her dark shoulder-length hair is lank and greasy, and her clothes don’t look or smell very clean.
She blinks slowly, reaching out to touch my face with bony fingers. “Sammy?” she whispers.
“Yes, I’m here.” Sadness sweeps through me. “Christ, Ma, you’ve been sober for sixteen years. What…” I close my eyes, knowing the answer even as the question leaves my lips. “You started drinking again after I was attacked, didn’t you?”
She stares at me for such a long time that I think she’s not going to answer. Then she blinks, and her eyes are wet with tears.
“It was only a little one at first,” she admits, her voice slightly slurred.
“You were so badly hurt. Seeing you in that hospital bed, thinking that you were going to…” She swallows hard.
“I never meant for it to get this bad. But the longer you were in hospital, and then the therapy…” She shakes her head.
“And then you finally came home and said you couldn’t stay here in Leeds.
Next thing I knew, you were gone. Moving to London to start over without so much as a glance back. ”
“Ma…” The guilt crushes my chest so bad I almost can’t breathe. “I’m so sorry.”
“What?” She frowns. “Why? I’m the one who should be sorry. I promised you when you were fourteen and you found me–” She breaks off. Neither of us particularly wants to relive the day I found her in such a state I thought she was dead. “I promised you, and I broke that promise.”
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have shut you out. I was so hell-bent on getting away from here, I didn’t stop to think how it would affect you.”
She grasps my hand as the first tears begin to roll down her cheeks.
“No, don’t do that, Sammy, this is all on me.
I didn’t mean to start drinking again. But seeing you in that hospital, knowing how close I came to losing you, I just figured I could take a little something to numb the pain. Please don’t hate me.”
I pull her into my arms and hold her as she cries.
“I could never hate you,” I murmur as I let her cry herself out.
There’s so much more I need to say, that we need to talk out, but not now. She needs to sober up, and she looks like she could do with some sleep. When she finally slumps against me, all cried out, I help her up to her room and tuck her into bed despite the early hour.
For a moment, I’m a teenager again and all those old fears and pains come roaring back. I shouldn’t have left her the way I did. I hate that needing to save myself by leaving meant I didn’t see her pain or register that she needed help too.
I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her as she drifts off into sleep. She’s going to need more support than I can give.
Once I’m sure she’s resting peacefully, I head downstairs. After sending Harrison a quick message to let him know I’ve arrived, my phone pings a second later.
Don’t forget, you can call me anytime you need to talk.
I want that more than anything right now. I know he’ll listen without judgement, even though this whole mess feels like it’s my fault. I want to hear his voice, but I can’t. Not yet.
The first thing I do is open the curtains and windows to let in some light and fresh air. Then I systematically go through the house and clear out the booze. It’s been sixteen years, but I still remember all her hiding places.
Once that’s done, I empty the kitchen bin and start cleaning. Keeping busy helps. By the time the place is looking clean and tidy once more, I’m exhausted, both physically and right down to my soul.
This is not something that can be fixed in a few days, and I can’t walk out on her, not again, not until I know she’ll be okay.
I’m going to have to cancel my clients for the foreseeable future, which may be the end of my fledgling private investigation agency, and that stings.
More than that, the thought of losing the tentative friendship and the hope of being able to build something more with Harrison hits hard.
I’m not sure I can start something with him when my future is back to being so uncertain.
With a heavy heart, I sit down and start searching for the nearest AA meetings.