Chapter Sixteen
It wasn't until Jack was safely out of view that I finally exhaled. Being that close to him put all of my senses on high alert and made it incredibly difficult to focus on anything but how much I wanted to feel his arms around me again.
"What are you, some kind of silly high school girl?" I muttered to myself as I walked back into my office and sat down in front of the computer. I punched the keyboard as I continued chastising myself, "Quit being an idiot! Whatever happened was obviously a mistake, and he has zero interest in you. Stop acting like a lovesick teenager. Ridiculous!"
"What's ridiculous?" Burt asked as he tapped on my door. "You okay, Leah?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, just thinking out loud," I said turning to face him. I was immediately alarmed by how pale Burt looked. "Are you okay?"
"I think I ate something bad at lunch," he said waving me off. "I'll be fine with a little Pepto and rest."
"Are you sure?" I asked eyeing him warily. Burt was one of the best warehouse guys, and I couldn't afford to have him out sick right now. "We need you, man."
"I know, I know," he grinned as he kept one arm wrapped around his midsection. "I'm going to cut out a little early and go to Urgent Care just to make sure."
"Go, go!" I said waving him away. "And call me to let me know if you're okay or if we need to start collecting for Gloria's widow fund!"
"Ha, ha, very funny," Burt said rolling his eyes. "I'm fine. I'll be in tomorrow morning."
"Take care of yourself, Burt," I said seriously. "We really do need you. Jack's got plans for upgrading the warehouse, and I can't afford to lose even one of you guys when they start this crazy renovation."
"I'm going to be here, boss," Burt assured me yet again. "No worries!"
I sat at my desk for a long time, thinking about all the changes that had happened and all the ones that were about to follow it. I didn't like the fact that we were being run by someone who had no idea how the business had been run, nor did he seem to care about the traditions we held dear. He was intent on turning the business into a competitor with all the other online baby product suppliers, and I had some serious doubts about whether his plan would work.
"100,000 products?" I said, shaking my head as I powered off my computer and began packing up to go home. Riley would be waiting for me to make dinner, if my mother hadn't already hauled her down to the bodega and stuffed her full of junk. That reminded me: I needed to pick up chicken and tortillas for dinner, and stop by Gordy's for the dry cleaning. I sighed as I ran a hand through my hair and wished that I didn't have to do all of this alone.
"Dammit, Molly, where are you?" I whispered as I grabbed my things and headed to the train.
*
the time I got home, it was almost dark, and Riley was waiting for me on the front steps. I waved at her as I came up the walk, but she didn't smile.
"What's up, buttercup?" I asked as I climbed the stairs.
"Gram is really sick, Leah," Riley said as she picked at her right hand. "She's been lying on the couch all afternoon and she won't talk to me anymore."
"What? She what?" I said, suddenly feeling sick in the pit of my stomach. I turned and went into the house calling, "Mama? Mama! Talk to me, Mama!"
My mother was lying on the couch with one arm draped over her forehead and the other across her stomach. I couldn't tell if she was breathing. I dropped the grocery bags and ran to her side, shaking her as I called her name again and again. When she didn't respond, I shook her harder.
"Mama! Mama! WAKE UP!" I shouted into her ear. That got a slight response, so I kept yelling until she somehow pushed her way out of her drunken stupor and opened her eyes.
"Why the fuck are you screaming in my ear?" she mumbled in a drunken voice that I recognized as having had way too much vodka in entirely too short a time period. "Knock it off, Leah. You're being a nag."
"Mama, you scared Riley and me half to death," I said in a calm voice. "You cannot keep doing this."
"It's my house. I can do whatever the hell I please," she replied as she covered her eyes again and shifted slightly to keep me out of her view. "Back off, girl. I don't need your nagging."
"This isn't healthy, Mama," I pleaded. "Your drinking is out of control. You need help."
Out of nowhere, my mother's hand rose up and smacked me so hard I lost my balance and fell backward onto the living room floor. I cried out as my head knocked against the coffee table, and my mother turned slightly and eyed me before saying, "That'll teach you to get all high and mighty with your mother. It's my goddamn house, and I'll do what I like in it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mama," I said, rubbing the back of my head as I scooted far enough away to be out of her reach. "But you need help."
"Fuck you, Leah," she said. "If you don't like it, there's the door. Don't let it hit your ass on the way out."
I picked up the grocery bags and walked to the kitchen where Riley sat with her back against the wall, staring out the window.
"She has a serious problem," she observed. "She really needs to get some help for it."
"Indeed she does, but there's no way we can make her do something she doesn't want to do," I said as I unpacked the groceries and prepared to make dinner. For a moment, I leaned against the counter and wondered how we'd gotten to this point and why it was so hard to change things.
"What are we going to do, Leah?" Riley asked as she stopped picking at her hand and looked up at me with a worried expression. The creases in her forehead were far too deep for someone so young, but she'd been forced to grow up more quickly than most kids her age.
"I don't know, Riley," I sighed as I stood up and continued unpacking the bags. "She really needs help, but I can't force her to do anything. I talked to Patrick last night. I'm hoping that he'll show up and talk some sense into her."
"Uncle Patrick's coming over?" Riley said, perking up.
"Father Patrick," I replied.
"Oh, right, Father Patrick," she repeated, rolling her eyes the way only a twelve-year-old could. "When is he coming, Leah?"
"He said I'm supposed to bring her to Mass, and he'll take care of the rest," I said. "But I can't see how we're going to get her to Mass like this."
"Tell her she doesn't have a choice," Riley said in a sullen tone. "Like you do with me."
"That's not fair, and you know it," I said.
"I love how adults always say that, but when kids do it, then it's always something about how life's not fair," she said. "Leah, I'm sick and tired of her always ruining things. I can't have friends over because it's embarrassing. And you never go anywhere or do anything, either."
"That's because I'm busy with work, young lady," I said trying to keep my voice from cracking. I didn't want her to know how right she actually was.
"Oh, bullshit, Leah," she shot back as she slapped the table. "All of this is such bullshit!"
"Riley! You are not to use that kind of language in this house!" I yelled as I turned and looked at her. "I know this is hard. I know Gram isn't easy to deal with, but we're all doing the best we can, okay?"
"Bullshit," she said as she got up and walked across the kitchen. She stood face to face with me, and my heart cracked a little as I realized how much she looked like her mother at that age.
"Riley, please," I said, shaking my head. I didn't want to have this conversation with her.
"This family is so incredibly screwed up, it's not even funny, Leah," she began as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me. "I'm sick and tired of all the secrets and lies and all the bullshit that goes on as we try to cover up all of the terrible things that have happened. Why did my mother leave? Why is Gram drinking herself to death? Why are you the one stuck taking care of us all?"
"Because that's what family does, Riley!" I shouted. "We take care of each other! We look out for each other!"
"Right," she scoffed as she turned away. "Like everyone else is looking out for us? Is that what you're saying?"
"Sometimes you have to shoulder the burden until it's someone else's turn, Riley," I said. "Not everything is equal."
"Oh, I know," she said as she walked out the kitchen door. "Believe me, I know."
As I cooked dinner, I turned the problem over in my head and felt guilty that Riley had a better understanding of the problem than I did, or at least she was the one who was facing it head on. I should have mapped out a plan, but the truth was that I was just too damn tired after dealing with all of the changes at work. I didn't have anything left when I got home. I'd been taking care of everything for the past three years, and I was running on empty.
The guilt and shame washed over me as I thought about all of the things I should be doing. I should be looking for Molly. I should be taking better care of Mama. I should be letting Riley be a kid. Should. Should. Should.
"I can't do this all by myself, dammit." I muttered as I stirred the meat in the pan and warmed tortillas. "I need help."
Half an hour later, I called Riley to the table for supper, and she came in, dragging Mama behind her.
"Where's my drink?" she muttered as she pulled up a chair and sat down. "I want my drink!"
I shoved a glass of tea at her and watched as she drank it down without stopping. I refilled the glass and put a plate in front of her. She definitely looked and acted more sensible than she had when I'd arrived home, so I thought I'd take a chance.
"Mama, Patrick asked us to come to Mass," I said trying to sound like this was an everyday occurrence.
"Who?" she replied as she wrinkled her nose and picked at the food on her plate.
"Patrick," I repeated. "Father Patrick, your son?"
"I don't have a son," she said in a flat voice. "I had two daughters, but one ran off with a good for nothing loser and left me with you. And why the hell would I want to go to church? What good would it do me?"
"Patrick is your son. He went into the seminary," I said trying to jog her memory. I knew that the alcohol had wreaked havoc on her brain, but part of me wondered if she wasn't just being stubborn. "He's a priest over at Queen of Peace Parish. You used to love going to Mass when we were growing up. You were proud of Patrick when he joined the priesthood, Mama."
"I don't have a son," she said stubbornly before shoving her mouth full of burrito and chewing loudly. I shrugged and shook my head as she added, "And I definitely don't need a damn church telling me what to do."
Mama ate little more than a few bites of food, and halfway through the meal, she fell asleep, leaning on the wall next to the table. I shook her gently, but she was out.
"How did you get her up?" I asked.
"I told her that there was vodka at the table," Riley said grimly. "She got right up and headed in."
"This has to stop," I said, shaking my head as I stood up. I put my mother's arm over my shoulder and, with Riley's help, managed to get her on her feet and back to the bedroom.
Later, after all the dishes had been washed and I'd packed lunches for the next day, I laid down on own my bed and tried to summon up the courage to face my mother and force her to get the help she needed. But all that kept popping up was the feeling of Jack's strong arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me to his chest, and the brief whisper of a kiss that we'd shared.
I felt the ache of longing running from my head to between my legs and surrendered to the fantasy for a brief time before finally falling into a deep sleep.