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Nick: Don’t be late.
Itoss the phone aside, sipping my whiskey slowly, closing my eyes as the fiery liquid burns a dangerous pathway down my throat.Don’t be late.Yeah, go fuck yourself, Nick. As if he really had to make a point of telling me not to be late. I’ve never been late to anything in my life and he knows it. Why would I be late to something as important as this?
I take another sip, swallow, and then toss the rest of my drink down my throat in one swift movement. It stings like crazy, making me cough slightly, but I like the way it feels. I like the burning pain it causes in my chest. Darkness is an easy place to land for the tormented. My demons still haunt me as I navigate this life I’ve created for myself. Damaged knows damaged, and none of us are perfect, but I have my own ways of coping with grief and trauma, and that doesn’t make me a bad person.
It just makes me human.
I’m considering pouring myself another glass, because why the hell not, but before that can happen, before I can completely lose myself in the disappointment and absurdity of this whole fucked up situation, I decide to call the one person in the world who means more to me than anyone else.
At my weakest moments, my lowest points, she’s always been there for me, during bouts of crippling self-doubt and haunting regrets, and in times when impostor syndrome has reared its ugly head until I can barely see straight anymore.
I grab the phone off the couch and dial her number. She picks up on the fourth ring and the familiar sound of her voice brings an instant smile to my face. It’s like falling into a barrel of warm maple syrup.
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey, Mom. What’s happening?”
“Nothing much, you know me. I just finished watchingJeopardy.”
She sounds tired. I don’t like that she sounds so tired, but I don’t bring it up with her because she’ll accuse me of interfering again. “How was physical therapy this morning? Carter still doing what we’re paying him to do?”
“Have you been speaking with him?”
“No. Why?”
She laughs, and I can tell she isn’t buying my response. “You’re a terrible liar, Reed Devlin. You always have been.” Her voice takes on the same suspicious tone she used on me as a kid, when she knew I was up to no good. “Why do I get the feeling you have something to do with Carter making me take an extra-long walk this morning? And twenty more lunges? You know how much I hate lunges.”
“Lunges are good for your leg, Mom.”
“I swear I could throttle you sometimes, young man.”
I burst out laughing, and it actually feels really good to laugh. “How long are you going to keep calling meyoung man?”
“As long as I want.” She chuckles, and I can hear the sweet sound of amusement in her voice. “How are you anyway? You still coming for our weekly dinner?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll grab something on the way. I might even get around to chopping that firewood out back so you don’t freeze to death once the weather turns really cold.”
“Stop worrying about the firewood. It’ll get cut when it gets cut.”
“I want to get it done for you. The snow will be here before you know it. You need the fire to keep warm.”
“You worry too much about me, baby.”
“That’s my job.”
Her sigh is long and drawn out. “Reed,please.”
“Please what?”
“I’m not an invalid…” She pauses and then laughs softly. “Well, yes, I am, but that’s not what matters right now. You do too much for me already.”
“I don’t do nearly enough.”
“That’s enough about me. I want to hear what’s going on in your world.”
“Not a lot,” I tell her, trying to unscrew the bottle cap as quietly as I can so she doesn’t hear me pouring out another drink. I don’t want her to know I’m drinking alone. She hates it when I drink alone, and it’s a sure giveaway that I’m not being entirely honest with her. “Same ‘ol shit. Just normal band stuff.”
“You work too hard. Have you eaten?”
