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He shakes his head. “No, the employees probably pick that door to smoke because there isn’t one there. Do you know the room number?”
“Room 324.”
I memorized it a while ago. And finding the room isn’t the challenge I thought it would be. The building is divided into three tiled corridors, and Mom’s room is located in unit three. We make our way through the hallways easily. The employees we walk past are too wrapped up in their lives to question who we are. My excitement builds until I’m at her door.
We walk into a large, tiled room that is quiet except for a large television in the corner. The layout is extravagant for a rehab, but Attleboro is exclusive. It resembles a fancy hotel suite like the pictures on a website with a huge king-sized bed and a sofa in gray and yellow. The fabrics are decorated with big splashy florals, which are Mom’s favorite design.
Mom lies across her bed, but she’s barely awake though it’s not evening yet. Her body is strewn out like a starfish on the sand, except one arm covers her eyes. She’s dressed in a nice cotton dress that covers her body, and her hair is done, but her mouth is slack. Her eyes are glazed over as she stares at the TV. I glance over at the screen. She never watches golf.
“Mom?” I sit on the bed beside her, “Mom? It’s Astrid.”
She turns her head, but her eyes are out of focus when she looks at me. Her hand reaches up but stops as if it’s too heavy to lift to my face. Mom grins as wild laughter bubbles out of her, and her hand drops back to the bed.
Holy shit, she’s high.
“Mom?” I touch her shoulder and hold it tight, giving her a little shake. “Mom? It’s me.”
Her hazy gaze finds me again, and her voice is dreamy. “My daughter looks just like you. Same hair and eyes. She’s pretty, too, like you. Are you a sweet girl?”
“Mom, I am your daughter.” My voice cracks as I start to shake. My breathing weighs me down as I stare at her, helpless and drugged. Did I look like this at the Pit? Helpless and at anyone’s mercy?
She stares at me a little harder. Her eyes gradually focus on my face. Gently, she touches my cheek with her hand. “Oh, Astrid, you’re here. I thought you were in school.”
I sigh deeply. Thankful that she’s coming out of it a little bit. “I came here to see if you’re okay.”
Mom lowers her hand, closes her eyes, and she’s gone again. “It’s lovely here, sweetie, but it’s like one long day. My daughter should be home soon.” Her pupils are dilated as she stares across the room at Wyatt. “Oh, are we getting a massage again?”
A squeaky cart rattles in the hallway, and it sounds as if it’s outside the door. Wyatt grabs my hand, yanking me off the bed, and grabs the first doorknob he can reach. We run into the bathroom and step into the shower stall, pulling the curtain shut. The door shuts, and it’s pitch black, with no windows, as I cling to Wyatt. He holds me tight. I’m trembling. I can’t help it. What are these assholes doing to my mom?
“We have to go, Astrid,” Wyatt whispers, “I’m really sorry, but we have to go.”
“I can’t leave her here,” I hiss, “I spent a year getting her clean and look at what they’ve done.”
“You can’t do this now,” he sighs, “And I can’t do anything to help you. I don’t think anyone can.”
I lean my head against his chest, and his shirt is wet with my tears. “Please don’t say that.”
He inhales. “I don’t mean forever. I’m not telling you to give up on her, but you’ve got to stop rushing in.”
“Like a fool?” I whisper.
I can’t see his expression in the dark, but I know the answer is yes. It’s time I reflect on my choices instead of blaming the rich when my shitty plans hit the fan. Howland wants an angel daughter, or at least one that’s not in a fight club. What if I win over his trust again? Is it even possible to do with a narcissist like him? I guess anything is possible with a solid plan.
We creep back out into the room, and Mom is asleep on the bed. A tray of food is next to her bed, and I check the contents. A plate of grilled salmon with dill butter and fire-roasted vegetables like it says on the menu. But most important, I see no pills on her tray. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t already taken them.
I kiss Mom on the forehead, and she smiles in her sleep. I don’t want to leave her, but she’s peaceful for now. And if I drag her away and make another scene, then what? We can’t go back to the apartment without a source of income, and I’ll never go back to the Pit. A rescue will have to wait. I’ll have to do what the lady at the bank suggested. Open a secret account and put everything into it. Then one day, I’ll be able to tell my father to bend over and fuck himself.
Once again, we walk down the hallway, and no one asks any questions. A nurse checks out Wyatt’s ass as he walks by. Good. Let her remember that and not his face. We crack open the exit door and race across the lawn to the hole in the hedge. The woods are dark as the sun sets, and I stumble over a root sticking out on the path. I grip Wyatt’s hand as he leads us back to the car as if he walks these woods every day.
“Thank you,” I tell him as we drive along the turnpike to Rockingham. “I appreciate you coming with me. In fact, all the stuff you do for me, I appreciate.”
“I wish I could do more.”
I pause, hoping he doesn’t feel he should have done something about Mom. He’s right. I have to wait. “You’ve done a whole lot,” I reply, “You and Nova are the only two people I trust.” I pause because it’s not entirely true. “When you talk about me with Bryce, Justin, and maybe Pierce, what do you guys talk about?”
“Who is going to have you.” His reply is matter-of-fact.
“Don’t I get a choice?” I ask.
