Curveball(27)

“What time is it?” She presses the cigarette into the ashtray and reaches for the soft pack of Newports on the table.

I grip them and crush the package in my hand, my teeth clenched in anger.

“Hey!” She stands up, swats at my hand, and almost falls onto the table. “Give them back.”

“No,” I growl. “Let’s go. Time to get cleaned up.”

I give her my hand to hold on to and lead her upstairs—but not without trouble or a fight. I force her into the bathroom and turn the knobs on the shower. They creak and groan as she takes a seat on the closed toilet lid.

Hovering over her, I have no idea what I want to say at first because so many emotions and so much adrenaline are running through my body. “You need to stop this shit! I’ve been saving for years, and I have enough money now to send you to rehab. You’re killing yourself, and you’re forcing Sammy and me to sit here and watch you do it.”

She sobs into her hands and bends forward, her elbows pressed into her thighs. “I’m sorry, Mark. I want to get better. I want to do right by you kids.”

I hunch down, staring at her. I hate that I look so much like her. We have the same auburn hair, except mine is more brown and hers is more red. When she actually washes it, her hair curls at the ends, something I did not inherit but my sister did. She has green eyes, only a shade lighter than mine, and the same dusting of freckles along her nose and cheeks. She was beautiful once. Even Luca’s father used to tell me stories about how the men in the neighborhood would trip over their feet to get a look at her. And, now, she’s become this…

What has she even become? A drunk. A bad mother.

Once she started drinking heavily and popping pills, her looks went away. Underneath the smudged red lipstick at the corner of her mouth and the caked-on mascara that appears as though it has been on her lashes for at least a few days is a normal person. With her curls piled on top of her head, they hang over her forehead and fall into her eyes. I can’t believe this is the woman who was supposed to raise me.

Only Luca and his family know about my mother. Hunter knows I have to take care of my family, but I’ve never wanted to tell another person about how rough my life is outside the walls of the fraternity house. I couldn’t wait to join Delta Sig with Luca during our freshman year, as I was desperate to get away from the hell I’d called a home for most of my life. But I always felt guilty about leaving my sister behind, knowing that my mother couldn’t even take care of herself, let alone a child.

With my dad serving time upstate for robbing a Wawa convenience store with a gun, I have been the only male in this house for as long as I can remember. I’ll probably have kids of my own by the time he gets out of prison.

“Where’s Sammy?” I suck in a deep breath and let it out. Holding on to the vanity next to the toilet, I pull myself up and push back the shower curtain to check the water temperature.

“She’s in her room,” she mumbles under her breath, still slurring her words.

I turn around to face her. “Take a shower, brush your teeth, comb your hair, and find something decent to wear.” Pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers, I sigh. “Please. Just do this for Sammy, if not for yourself. I can’t take it anymore. She needs a mother.”

She covers her face with her hands and mutters to herself between sobbing, repeatedly apologizing. Every week, I find her in the same condition, and every week, I go through this with her.

I lift her from the toilet seat and hold her up until she gains her footing and pushes out a hand to hold on to the wall for support.

Brushing a strand of hair from her face, I bend down to her height. “Can you do this on your own?”

She nods. “I think so.”

“Okay.” I remove a towel from the linen closet and hang it on the hook on the wall next to the shower. “I’ll make coffee and something for us to eat. Call if you need me.”

Once I’m in the hallway with the door shut behind me, I can breathe easier. Controlling my raging anxiety and anger is not easy when I have to watch her ruin everyone’s lives. All the illegal things I have done over the years is for them. But she insists on traveling down the same path of destruction.

I knock on the door at the end of the hallway and call out for Sammy, concerned when I don’t hear any noise. My mother hasn’t fallen in the shower yet, and with her taken care of, I need to make sure Sammy isn’t in here, crying her eyes out again. If only I could take her away from my mother and have her live with me, but I live in a frat house, full of horny boys and all sorts of shit that she doesn’t need to get involved with.

When she doesn’t answer me, I push the door open, relieved to find her lying flat on her back on the bed and listening to the iPod I gave her for Christmas. She has no idea I am here. Singing to herself, she stares blankly up at the ceiling, belting out the lyrics to a Taylor Swift song.

Sinking into the old mattress, my weight shifts the bed, and Sammy sits up, her mouth open wide, as she strips the earbuds from her ears and throws them on the blanket in front of her.

She lunges herself at me and throws her arms around me, squeezing me tight as I hug her back. “You’re here early,” she breathes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, kid.” I plant a kiss in her hair and hold her head against my chest. “Are you okay?”