Chapter 5 – Cassie
Fall in Silver Creek was my absolute favorite time of the year. Everything was so pretty. It made the Daily Grind even cozier than it normally was. When the retro coffee shop vibes I’d created blended with the cozy flannels and warm oranges of fall, it was absolute perfection.
This time of year was about to get even more special, because Colt and Ellie were getting married at the end of the month, and I was going to be the maid of honor.
The only downside was that Jace was the best man, so we would have to walk down the aisle together.
When Ellie broke the news to me, I told her I’d do anything she needed me to as long as Jace played nice.
If he didn’t, I would kick him in the balls.
One of my favorite things to do in fall was paint the coffee shop windows with seasonal drawings.
For October, I liked to draw cute ghosts, candy corn, and witches with big eyes and smiles.
I changed it up a bit for November and drew pumpkins along the bottom of the windows with vines weaving in and out of them.
For December, I created a pine tree skyline with snow falling in the background. I liked to add twinkling stars too. Maybe this year I’d draw decorated Christmas trees instead.
I loved everything art related, so this was one of my favorite projects each year.
Sifting through the old boxes in the back of the coffee shop, I looked for my painting supplies. As I searched, I heard a knock on the front door. It was after hours, so someone knocking was weird.
Hesitantly, I made my way to the front of the shop, peeking around the corner to see who was at the door before they could see me.
“Mom?” I said, walking toward the door to unlock it. “It’s too cold to be outside without a sweater on. What are you doing here so late?” I asked as I ushered her through the front door into the warmth.
“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by,” she said cheerfully, taking a seat at one of the tables.
I watched her every move as I made my way behind the counter.
“Do you want some coffee?” I said finally.
“Sure, that would be great, honey. Put a splash of cream in there for me, please,” she said, looking the coffee shop over.
It had been at least two years since she’d been in here which made my already heightened senses even higher.
Addicts usually came around only when they need something. My mom always had an ulterior motive for coming to see me when she was using again.
She barely had any clothes on—only a pair of faded blue jeans and a thin long-sleeve shirt that looked like it hadn’t seen a washing machine in weeks. She was wearing flip-flops in fifty-degree weather.
The innocent little girl version of Cassie inside me always hated seeing my mom like this. It left me confused and sad for her. In these moments, I always wanted to help her. To pull her out of this deep, dark place she had found herself in.
But adult Cassie knew there was no fixing her.
There was no helping an addict who didn’t want to change.
Over the years, I had built walls around my heart and become numb to it.
That was the only way I could survive the pain of watching my dad walk out and my mom become a shell of the person she used to be.
But in the end, it all still sucked—no matter how good I had gotten at building walls.
“How’s your new job been going?” I asked as I handed her a cup of black coffee with a splash of creamer, just like she wanted.
“It’s okay,” she said, sipping on the hot coffee. “My boss is a hard-ass though. I missed a couple days last week because I was sick, and he wrote me up.”
Was she really sick?
Or was she recovering from an all-night bender?
Maybe that was harsh, but being na?ve only got you so far with an addict—mother or not.
“Did you get the flu? I’ve heard it’s going around early this year,” I asked, knowing she’d either blame the flu or conjure some other bullshit lie.
“I’m not sure. You know I don’t like doctors, so I never went and got checked out.”
Except when they’re prescribing you pills. Then you love them.
“Anyways, I thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing. When I called the other night you seemed tired. I always worry about you. You work so hard and never take time for yourself,” she said, looking around the coffee shop.
“You know how I am, Mom. I like to keep my hands busy. Keeps my mind off stuff.”
“What stuff are you talking about?” she asked, taking another sip of coffee.
Was she serious right now?
“Just life, that’s all,” I replied, deciding at the last second that yelling at her about all my childhood trauma was probably not the road to go down right now.
“You act like you had it so hard growing up,” she said, sitting up straighter now, on the defense.
Here we go.
“Can we not talk about this right now, Mom? Just tell me what you came down here for, so we can get this over with and you can be on your way.”
Her eyes narrowed. I’d awakened the sleeping lion for sure.
“I didn’t come here for anything, Cassie. I just wanted to check on you. Can I not do that?”
“Sure you can, but you’re barely clothed, it’s fifty degrees outside, and you’re telling me that you keep calling in sick to work. Plus, last week you called me asking for money. So excuse me for wondering if there’s something going on.”
“Nothing is going on,” she said, pushing her coffee mug back and almost sending it flying off the table.
As she extended her arms, her sleeves pulled back slightly. Just enough for me to see it.
I grabbed her wrist and held it in place against the table, forcing her to look down at what I had discovered.
“Track marks, Mom. Fresh ones. You’re not clean, and you came here for more drug money. Just admit it already!” The more I spoke, the angrier my voice got.
“You think you’re so perfect, don’t you? With your fancy house and your big business. Some of us didn’t get everything handed to us growing up like you did, Cassie,” she said, trying to defend herself any way she possibly could.
“Are you kidding me right now? I didn’t get anything handed to me. I barely made it out of my childhood alive—no thanks to you. You don’t know shit about how I survived and got out. You were never there!”
Deep down, I knew yelling wasn’t the solution to this problem, but I didn’t care. My mom needed the hard truth. She needed to know how I really felt—what growing up was actually like—not whatever delusional scenario she’d created to make herself feel better.
“Dad left when I was in kindergarten, and you stayed at your boyfriends’ houses more than you stayed at your own.
I knew how to cook on the stove and get myself up for school by the time I was eight, because no one else was there to do it.
So who the hell do you think handed me all of this?
Not a fucking single person, Mom. Don’t ever tell me I got anything handed to me growing up because, Lord knows, I sure as hell didn’t. ”
She stood up abruptly, pulling her sleeve down to hide the secrets that had already been set free.
She didn’t respond. I figured she wouldn’t. When you were faced with the cold, hard truth, there was nothing you could say to make it better.
Without another word, she bolted out the door, across the sidewalk, and into her car before speeding off. There was no telling where she was headed. Probably to get high again.
Collapsing to the ground, I sobbed uncontrollably.
On the outside, I had created this perfect persona: strong-willed, independent, successful.
But on the inside, I was crumbling into tiny pieces.
My dam had finally burst. The tears just kept coming.
Years of frustration and anger finally boiled to the surface, spilling over with no end in sight.
After a few minutes, a knock on the front door forced me to come out of my saddened state.
“Not right now,” I whined, wiping the tears from my eyes and trying to look even half presentable. Because Jace was now standing at the front door of my coffee shop.
I sauntered over to the door, opening it reluctantly.
“What do you want?”
“Have you been crying?” he asked, eyes soft with concern.
“Yes, so go away before you make it worse.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Hell no. You wouldn’t understand half the shit I’m dealing with right now. You and your perfect fucking family. Why are you here anyways?” I asked a little more harshly than he deserved.
“I was going to grab a bite at Maggie’s, and when I walked by, I saw you lying on the floor through the window. I just wanted to check on you is all.”
“Well, I’m fine, thanks. Goodnight.” I attempted to close the door, but before it shut all the way, Jace used his good foot to stop it from closing.
“Cassie.”
“Jace.” I stared at him, wanting nothing more than this moment to be over with.
“I’m not leaving you here alone while you have actual tears falling down your face. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a piece of shit.”
The realization that this was probably the first time since my dad left that a man was concerned for my wellbeing made me start crying all over again.