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ChapterTen
RYDER
Of all the stupid shit I have ever done, fucking Asher Hawthorne must be the dumbest. Not that it wasn’t good or that the girl isn’t fucking hot, but girls like her aren’t the onetime hook-up type, and I’m not boyfriend material. Dating is the absolute last thing on my list of priorities as I drive home after one of my life's most unforgettable nights.
I pull up at my house, and despite being on civil terms with my father after our last blowup, the last thing I want is to be here, but I need to clear my head.
Dylan:
Where are you, man? You bailed on me.
Me:
Yeah, rough day. Needed to crash.
Dylan:
Pussy!
I shake my head. If he only knew half of it. I need to crash and deal with all this in the morning.
The house is in darkness when I arrive, and I flick the lights as I walk through.
I don’t want to make a noise, so I try to be as quiet as possible. Walking into the kitchen, I feel a sense of foreboding. It’s eerie how it claws at the back of my neck. It’s quiet. Too quiet. Not even the soft jazz music my mom plays when she sleeps.
Two empty bottles of red wine are on the counter. I cross the tiles and sprint toward my mom lying on the floor, a shattered glass clutched in her hands and the red wine from it staining her white blouse. “Mom! Can you hear me?” I shake her slender shoulders. Raven hair topples onto the white porcelain. She’s not responding.
911. I must call 911. And as I do, I spot something that sends an icy shiver through me, resting beside her. My heart shatters into a million pieces. Pills. Her sleeping pills. I pull out my cell phone.
“911, what's your emergency?”
“Um… It’s my mom. She’s collapsed. I think she’s taken some pills.”
“Okay…sir, what’s your name and address?”
I rattle it off while trying to shake my mom awake.
“Are you with your mother right now?”
“Yes! Of course, I am.” I can’t keep the irritation from my tone. My mom’s breathing is too shallow.
“Okay, sir, I’m going to need you to be calm and stay on the line with me, okay? I’m sending an ambulance as we speak.”
I nod as if the woman can see me.
“Is your mother conscious?”
I sniff, my temple throbbing. “I, I don’t think so…she’s not moving, I can’t get her to wake up. Her breathing’s shallow.”
“Can you tell me what kind of pills she’s taken?”
I look down at the bottle beside her. “I don’t know, Xanax, and she had it with red wine, Merlot. I need to call my dad….”
“Just stay on the line with me, Ryder. We’ll contact your father if you give me his number.”
What seems like hours later but is only minutes, emergency responders and police pile into my kitchen. I don’t know how my mom is, but they wheel her out on a gurney attached to a drip. She’ll survive. She’ll be okay. She has to. I won’t survive losing her.
“Ryder! What happened? I got here as quickly as I could.”
