Secret Lucidity(18)

I do what I can to paint an image of attractiveness by curling my long chestnut hair in loose waves and carefully applying my makeup, but without success of covering my scar. It screams its presence no matter what I do. After throwing on a pair of white shorts and a flowy blue top, I slip on a pair of strappy sandals and grab my backpack.

I walk down to my mother’s room and knock on her door, waiting for a response, and when none comes, I open it to find her room is empty.

“Mom?” I call out as I make my way into the bathroom, which is empty as well.

I turn back to her bedroom, worried that something’s happened to her. Aside from the mussed up sheets on the bed and a menagerie of bottles decorating the two nightstands, there’s no evidence that she came home last night.

I drop my bag onto the bed, retrieve my cell phone, and call her. Panic mounts when it goes directly to voice mail. Since we are both on the same account, I open the Find My Phone app, but she’s nowhere to be found. I don’t know if she turned her cell off or the battery has died or something really bad has happened.

With jittery hands, I make another call.

“You ready for the first day of school?” Kroy says with excitement.

“Something’s wrong,” I clip out in restlessness.

His tone shifts in an instant. “What’s going on?”

“My mom didn’t come home last night, and I can’t get ahold of her. I’m scared something happened.” The words tumble out of my mouth at a million miles per hour as I pace back and forth. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Where are you?”

“Home.”

“Stay there. I’m heading over.”

He hangs up, and because he lives in the same neighborhood, it only takes him a couple minutes to drive to my house. When I open the door, he pulls me into his arms and gives me the warmth I haven’t felt since we broke up two weeks ago.

“S-she went out last night. Said she was having dinner with a-a friend.” I stammer my words when I pull back from his hold.

“Do you know who she went with?”

“No. She wasn’t telling me much for some reason, and I’m terrified something’s happened to her.”

“I’m sure you’re just overreacting, Cam. Your mother is a pretty sensible woman.”

“No,” I say as anxiety blurs lines with mortification. “Since my dad . . . She’s . . .”

“What?”

“She’s been drinking.”

He dips his head down to my eye level. “Can you really blame her?” he says as if it’s nothing.

“You don’t understand. She drinks a lot. Like, a lot. This . . . this is the first time she’s left the house all summer.”

His eyes widen. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You know my mother’s reputation. I didn’t want to embarrass her . . . or me.”

“Baby, don’t ever feel embarrassed with me.”

“Everything is falling apart, Kroy.” The fractures in my fa?ade are starting to deepen, and the tears that have remained absent since May threaten their arrival, but I push against them.

“Look at me,” he says, and I do. “Whether we’re together or not, I love you. I will always be here for you no matter what, okay?”

I nod.

“I don’t like that I’m clueless to what’s going on in this house when I used to know everything,” he adds.

“I’m sorry, I just . . .”

“It’s okay to ask for help.”

“I am asking,” I tell him. “That’s why I called you.”

“If something happened—something bad—someone would’ve called you. You’re number is in her phone.”

“But her phone isn’t turned on. What if the battery is dead and they have no way of calling me?”

Smoothing his voice in an attempt to coax me, he says, “I’m sure everything is fine. Your mother loves you; I don’t see her being reckless, not after everything the two of you have lost.”

But he’s wrong. He has no clue how bad of shape she is in.

“Do you want me to have my mom make some calls?”

“No,” I blurt out. “As if this isn’t humiliating enough. Please don’t tell your mom about this or about the drinking. Promise me, Kroy.”

“Okay. Take a breath, Cam. I won’t say anything to anyone.”

The longer we stand here, the more my worry starts to transition into frustration that I’m the one freaking out about my mother’s whereabouts. It should be the other way around. Here I am, concerned about her reputation and that of our family, while she’s falling apart worse than I am.

“Tell me what you want to do.”

“I don’t know.”

“Either you wait around for her to return or I can take you to school where you’ll hopefully be distracted. I’m sure when you get home this afternoon she’ll be here.”

“You make it sound like going to school is the easy choice.”

“Come here,” he says, taking my hand and leading me into the living room. We sit together on the couch, our fingers still intertwined. “Nothing about today is going to be easy, but it’s something you’re going to have to eventually face, whether it’s today, tomorrow, or next week.” He’s gentle in his delivery. “You’ve been able to hide out this summer, but this isn’t something you can avoid. And yeah, it’s going to suck, and it’s going to be hard on you. Just know you’re not alone. You have me in whatever capacity you need.”