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“Maybe, but that didn’t matter. It was an epic story. Entertaining even if it wasn’t true.”
The light flashes green. Ryan turns to the road. Taps the gas. The car moves forward.
Houses and businesses blur together.
“She had the bar hanging on every word. At least, every time I checked. It was a busy night. I kept fixing her drinks. Didn’t pay much attention.” My stomach churns. This happened two years ago, but the pain is still fresh. The wound is still there. “Closing rolled around and she was still there. Slumped over the bar. Drunk. But holding her own.”
“You could have got in trouble.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t care about that.” I suck a breath between my teeth. “It was when someone came in looking for her.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“It was her daughter.”
Ryan’s attention turns to me.
“You’re driving.”
“You’re talking.”
“I want to live to see tomorrow.”
He looks at the road. “I want to hear this.”
A snappy comeback dissolves on my tongue. I want him to hear it too. I want him to see my scars. “She was young. Eleven. Maybe twelve. But that wasn’t the worst part. It was how weary she was. Like she did this every night.”
“Did she?”
“Probably. I did. That was why I made sure to work nights. So my mom couldn’t count on me to clean her up and put her to bed.”
“Leigh—”
“I saw this look in her eyes. An acceptance. Like she knew her mom would never change. Like she knew she’d be doing this forever. And I thought: why is a twelve-year-old smarter than I am?”
“Your mom—”
“Yeah. I went home. Told my mom I was moving out unless she quit drinking.”
“And—”
“She stared at me, all glassy-eyed, laughed it off.”
“She called your bluff.”
“Yeah.”
“You moved out the next day?”
“Yeah.” My laugh is sad. “How’d you know?”
“I know you.”
He does. He knows me better than anyone. Just not as well as I want him to. “I moved out. Quit my job. Begged my way to… well, I guess you know the rest.”
“Your mom is that bad?”
“She was. Now… I don’t know. We don’t talk anymore.” I press my lips together. “I know, it’s fucked, leaving her to drink herself to death—”
