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The coffee had brewed, so I poured two mugs and passed her one. She took a sip before continuing.
“He went to day care. We didn’t have a lot, but I was doing okay.”
I tensed as I placed slices of bacon in the skillet. “Was?”
She walked over to me, keeping her voice low. “Look, Mikey, I know what you think of me, but I’m a good mom. I love my son.” Her voice wavered with emotion.
“I never said otherwise, Em.”
“Yeah, but you asked me how I managed to take care of him, and I’m not some deadbeat who leaves my kid with other people so I can party. It’s me and him, and that’s it.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, and I remembered what my dad always said before he died.Family is all that really matters.If he were here now, he’d want me to help Emma.
“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
She blinked and tears slid down her cheeks. “I need your help.”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. If you owe people money, I’ll pay them back. You don’t need to bust your ass just to live anymore, okay?”
Emma looked like she was on the verge of tears again. “I’m sorry. There were so many times I wanted to call you, but I was too ashamed.”
“Ashamed of what?”
She looked away. “All the times I asked Mom and Dad for money. Not showing up for Dad’s funeral. I’ve been a terrible daughter and sister.”
I knew she’d hit up our parents for $300 here and $500 there, and Andy and I had worried they were supporting a drug habit or a deadbeat boyfriend.
“What was the money for?” I asked her. “Be honest with me. I’m not going to judge you.”
She sighed heavily. “Joey. Baby formula and diapers are really expensive, and for a while I didn’t have residency anywhere and I couldn’t get assistance. He’s such a good kid, Mikey. He’s my whole world, I swear it. I just want to be a good mom to him.”
Relief coursed through me. I knew my sister, and I knew she was telling me the truth.
“I can feel how much you’re dreading asking me for the help you need,” I said. “Just tell me what it is.”
She reached for a section of hair and toyed with the ends of it—an old nervous habit.
“I’m scared to even say it,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I promise.”
She met my eyes. “I’ve been drinking too much.”
“Okay, keep talking.”
I got a bowl and cracked a dozen eggs into it as she spoke.
“I only drink after Joey’s in bed for the night. At first it was one glass a night, and if I was out of wine, I just didn’t have one. But then it became two or three glasses, and I never let myself run out. I can’t really afford the amount of wine I drink, but…” She looked at the ground. “I feel like I need it. I drink more than a bottle a night, and I can’t make myself stop after a couple of glasses. If Joey would wake up and need me…”
This was tormenting her; I could hear it in her tone. As heartbreaking as it was to hear she was an alcoholic, at least she was ready to do something about it.
“I want to get better,” she said. “For Joey.”
“And for yourself,” I added. “You deserve to be happy, Em. To not be weighed down by all this anymore. Is there a reason you drink?”
She shook her head. “It started out as a way to relax at the end of the day. Cleaning houses and waiting tables is hard work. I just wanted to unwind. But then…”
“I get it. Grandpa Boone was an alcoholic.”
