Working on that theory, I take the steps one at a time instead, smiling when I see him copying me again.
He wants to be like me, which makes me want to be better. For him.
When we reach the top of the stairs, we walk straight into his room to start on his homework.
“I’m just going to get changed,” I tell him. “Be right back.”
I leave Ethan to pull out his books while I go to my room and change into something more comfortable. Grabbing the books and notebooks I need for my homework, I walk back towards Ethan’s room.
I’m about to open the door to Ethan’s room when I hear the sound of water running. I don’t think anything of it until I see a small puddle of water in front of my mother’s bedroom door.
Swearing under my breath, I set the books down on a small table and walk towards her bedroom instead.
I step into a flooded room, my exasperation increasing.
“Mom?” I call out. “Jennifer?” Maybe she’ll answer to that instead. After waiting a few more seconds, I turn the knob and let myself into the bathroom…
Where I find my mother on the floor.
Moving quickly, I shut off the water in the shower then check for my mom’s pulse.
It’s weak, but it’s there.
I shake her to try and wake her up. “Mom?” I glance behind me to make sure the door is shut. I don’t want Ethan to come in here. He doesn’t need to see this. “Mom!”
She isn’t responding.
I look down, finding an empty bottle of Oxy on the floor. There are a few pills scattered around, but the majority are gone.
She must have taken them all.
Shit.
“What do I do?” I ask out loud. I need to get the drugs out of her body. Turning her on her side, I pry open her mouth and push my fingers down her throat until she starts to gag. Convulsing, she throws up, and when she’s done, I do it again and again until I feel like there’s nothing left in her stomach.
For a few heart-stopping minutes, I don’t know whether it’s enough…
But then a little color returns to her face and her eyes flutter open.
“Aron?” she says.
“I’m here,” I assure her.
With a grunt, I lift her from the floor and help her into the tub.
Still clothed, I run the water, watching it fall over her—washing away the evidence.
She peers up at me and I see the disappointment in her face. It’s the same disappointment written on mine.
Confident she can sit up unaided, I grab a few towels from under the sink and begin drying the floor.
“Get me out of here, Aron,” she says after a few minutes.
Turning off the water, I towel her dry over her clothes then help her move into her room. Grabbing one of her old nightgowns from her closet, I set it beside her then finish cleaning up the bathroom floor. When I walk out, I find my mother in the same position I’d left her in, her eyes downcast, tears streaming down her face.
“Can you dress yourself?” I ask, the wet towels bundled in my arms.
She doesn’t reply, but I’m too angry to try anymore. I walk towards the door.
“I’m sorry,” she utters as I turn the knob and let myself out.
Throwing the towels into the wash, I head to my room to change out of my wet clothes before going back to Ethan’s room.
“What took you so long?” he asks the moment I walk through the door.
I force a smile. “I couldn’t find my notebook.”
“You really do need to be smarter,” he jokes.
“That I do,” I tell him, ruffling his hair. Sitting down in the chair next to him, we work through his homework, and mine, for the rest of the night. I go downstairs to grab him a snack and then some supper. When he falls asleep, I stay in the room with him.
I know even if I try, I won’t be able to get any rest tonight.
6
Who would’ve thought she needed to hit rock bottom before she pushed herself up?
“Would you like some eggs for breakfast?” my mother asks me for the second week in a row. Seriously, the second week. I study her for a few minutes, in awe of the progress she’s made.
The day after I found her almost lifeless body on the bathroom floor, she apologized to me.
She cried.
She hugged me.
She was angry at herself.
She finally understood what she was doing to us, and while I know that must’ve been a terrible realization, it’s what she needed. Near-death experiences tend to give people the wakeup call they need.
“I’m good, thank you,” I tell her.
“Are you sure? You gotta make sure you’re eating right for football,” she tells me.
I look at Ethan, who’s happily eating his scrambled eggs and playing around with his iPod. Although he may not know all the terrible things that have happened, even he can feel that the air is lighter—that we’re all happier.
“I’m not on the football team anymore,” I tell her, watching her expression fall.
She nods to herself. “It’s my fault, right?”
I look over at Ethan. “No,” I tell her, but we both know that’s a lie.
She rounds the kitchen table, playing with my hair like she did when I was six-years-old. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“No, it’s not,” I agree. “But you’re better now.” And she is. She hasn’t been doing drugs, she’s been going to group meetings and Richard hasn’t been by. I think things are finally starting to look up for our family. Who would’ve thought she needed to hit rock bottom before she pushed herself up?
She kisses the top of Ethan’s head in the most motherly gesture I’ve seen in years. “Well, since I’m better now, how about you go back to playing football?” she asks her eyes lighting up.
I shake the idea away. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Do you love it?” she asks and I nod. “Then try it again. I’m sure the coach would let you play. Are you any…” She stops herself before finishing the sentence. She wouldn’t know if I’m any good at football because she’s never been to any of my games. When I was younger, it was my dad that played with me and taught me but, even then, she never showed up.
“I’ll talk to Coach,” I answer. I don’t want her to be sad. I don’t want her to think about her failures, not when she’s doing so well, not when Ethan finally has a mother who’s paying attention to him.
“Great! Let me know what he says,” she says eagerly. “Are you ready, kiddo?” she asks Ethan.
“Ready for what?” Ethan asks, finally tearing his eyes from his toy.
“School? We gotta get going!” she says, taking the empty plates from the table.
Ethan looks at me then back at Mom. “Aron usually takes me to school…”
“Yeah, I don’t mind taking him,” I echo. That’s sort of been my role for a while and I’ll admit it feels odd to be letting her take over. Despite how much progress she’s made, I should still be cautious.
“How about you take Ethan and I pick him up?” she suggests and while I want to do both, I decide to give her a chance.
7
I’ve gotten to see more and more of the woman she used to be every day
I gave it a couple of weeks before asking the coach if I could be a part of the team again. I wanted to give it time before I left Ethan alone with Mom. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t trust her. I didn’t believe she was actually better. She’d promised to get better before, failing every time, so I didn’t think this time would be any different.
Every day, I waited for the other shoe to drop, but it never did.
It’s been months now, and she’s still waking up early every morning and having breakfast ready before Ethan and I even wake up. She’s been taking him to school every morning and picking him up afterwards.
She hasn’t missed a single school pick up. She hasn’t
so much as been late in picking him up either. Even Ethan is doing better in class.
Last night, I got home after practice and found the two of them asleep on the couch, Toy Story playing in the background.
I’d felt a pang in my chest, pushing it away almost immediately. I knew it was a flash of jealousy because I missed having that mom. So, yeah, after realizing she was on the wagon for the long term, I decided to pick up football again.
George taps me on the shoulder as we get ready to play my first game back, a grin splitting his face in two. “Dude! I’m so happy to have you back on the team!”
“Yeah, well, it seems I missed you guys too much to stay away,” I tell him with a smile of my own. It feels damn good to be back.
“Dude, we sucked without you. The Backup should never see the field again,” Tyler echoes and I laugh. They aren’t wrong. The replacement quarterback sucked so much the guys refused to call him by his actual name.
“We’ll turn it around,” I assure them. I may have missed a couple of games, but nothing could ever be so bad that it can’t be fixed. I mean, look at my mom. I never thought she’d reroute her life and be in a good place again, but she is.
“We’d better!” George shouts and one of the other guys high-fives him in response.
“Are we ready for tonight?” I yell, loud enough for all the guys to hear.
They all look at me. “Yes!”
“What are we gonna do?” I shout once again, engaging in the ritual I usually leave for before our game. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it until this very moment.
“We’re gonna win!” they all chant in unison.
“We’re gonna what?”
Hitting the lockers, they scream, “WIN! WIN! WIN!”
As soon as the clock runs out, I run straight over to where Ethan and Mom are sitting. I’m experiencing a high unlike ever before. The other team didn’t know what had hit them as even our special teams scored. The guys went out there and commanded the field.
Winning this game and doing what I love again isn’t the only reason I can’t wipe the smile from my face. The high comes from seeing Ethan and my mom in the stands cheering for me. Seeing them motivated me to play the best game of my life. I never thought I wanted someone in my corner. I didn’t think I’d appreciate having a parent to hug at the end of the game, but today made me realize I’ve always wanted all these things—I just never thought they’d be possible.
As I near them, I find them both wearing the school’s colors, laughing together, both incredibly happy.
“Hey,” I say with a smile.
I feel my mother’s delicate hands go around my body as she embraces me. I return her hug like I haven’t done in years. “You were so good out there, Aron,” she says, holding me at arm’s length, pride shining in her eyes. I see a glimpse of the mother I loved so much when I was younger.
“Thanks, Mom!” I reply.
“Way to go, Linc!” Ethan shouts, and I crouch down to hug him too.
I ruffle his hair. “Thanks, buddy!”
Someone pats me on the back, and when I turn around, I see George standing there. “Bro, we’re going to have a little celebration at my house!”
Shaking my head, I say, “Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna go home.”
A small celebration for George is code for a huge party.
“You should go celebrate!” my mother says, and I glance back at her.
Shaking my head, I say, “I’m going to hang with Ethan tonight.”
“Come on, dude! The whole team’s going to be there and you’re the quarterback… again. We gotta celebrate and we can’t do that without you!” George presses.
Mom looks at Ethan and then at me. Her eyes light up. “How about you go to the party and then tomorrow, you, Ethan and I can have our own celebration.”
“Are you sure, Mom?” I ask.
“Of course!”
“Is that okay with you buddy?” I ask Ethan.
He nods. “Yes!” he answers then turns to Mom. “Mom, can we watch Toy Story 2 tonight?”
“Of course we can!”
“Okay, it’s settled then,” George says and I shake my head.
I give Ethan and Mom a final hug each. “Thanks for coming to watch me play. I’ll see you guys later.”
8
She promised me
The team is on a roll. Since I started playing over three weeks ago, we’ve won every game. We may not make it to the championship but we’re gonna try. I take a sip of the beer I’m holding as we sit in George’s living room celebrating the win.
Feeling my pocket vibrate, I pull out my phone and answer the call. “Linc?” My little brother’s voice comes through the other end of the line.
“What’s going on?” I ask him, setting the beer bottle on the table in front of me.
“Richard’s back and I think he and mom are fighting,” he says, his voice cracking. I can tell he’s trying not to cry as he sniffles through the phone.
I get up, walking away from the noise of the party. “Where are you?”
“I’m in the closet,” he tells me. At least he can’t see it. I wish I never had.
I try and school my voice so he doesn’t sense the fear that’s overtaking me. “Good, stay there,” I coach him.
“Aron? I’m scared,” he whispers. That little voice—the voice of a child who’s gone through so much more than anyone his age should, makes me run in the direction of my car. I should’ve stayed home. I hate myself for not seeing this happen. Then again, I thought this time she had changed.
“It’s okay, buddy; just stay in the closet.” I try to push down the anger, fighting the tears that threaten to spill.
I can’t believe this is happening again.
“They’re screaming now,” he tells me. As he narrates each horrible scene, I wish nothing more than to shield him from all of this mess.
“What did you do after the game?” I ask, trying to distract him.
“Mom and I watched Toy Story 2,” he says. He pauses then adds, “Something just broke.” I take off running toward my car. I’m bumping into people as I move through the crowd, but I don’t care. I have to get to my little brother.
“Listen to me, okay? Just stay in the closet and think about what happened in Toy Story. Can you tell me what happened in the movie?”
He starts to tell me his favorite scene as I pry open the driver’s side door and get in. I twist the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life. Shifting the car into gear, I peel out of the driveway.
I have one focus—to protect Ethan.
And nothing and no one will stand in my way.
Not anymore.
I run every red light, knowing it’s not safe, knowing I’m risking not just my life, but others as well.
But I don’t care.
I shielded Ethan from as much of this as I could. I’ve lived my life as his bodyguard, preventing him from seeing the way our mother has been throwing her life away by depending on drugs and making them her most important relationship.
At least he got to see the good side of Mom—the doting and caring mother that made him breakfast and packed him snacks for school.
I got the one who walked through the doors every other day with tears in her eyes, promising she’ll change after she’s given in to the vice once again. I got the version that promised me she’d sober up and return to being the mother I once knew—I guess it didn’t stick.
I take a sharp left onto my street, driving as quickly as I can. The sounds around me are muffled as I let my need to get to Ethan fuel me.
She said things between her and that bastard were over.
She was getting clean. She was trying to find a job, trying to be a better person.
She promised me.
She lied.
9
I thought things would get better
Red and blue lights flash behind me, and I know I should stop.
But I don’t.
&nb
sp; I continue to drive, the lights moving closer and closer before disappearing. Pulling up alongside me, the police officer doesn’t even glance my way. Instead, he picks up speed, cutting in front of me sharply. I think for a second that he’s going to hit the brakes, causing me to slam into him, but he shows no sign of slowing down.
I take that as my cue to follow him; he’ll clear the road so I can reach my destination as quickly as possible.
I dial the number Ethan had used to call me once again, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I keep driving, stunned to see the police are driving in the same exact direction as I am—even turning onto my street.
At the far end, I see a bunch of flashing red and blue lights.
Yanking on the wheel, I pull the car over and jump out. I run towards my house.
Shit.
“Where are you going?” one of the officers standing outside my house yells.
“Stop! Hey! Stop right there!” someone else shouts, but nothing is stopping me.
I reach my front door where I find five more officers barring me from entering my house.
“You can’t go in there,” one of them says.
Like hell I can’t. That’s my house. “My brother,” I tell them, my tone clipped.
“There’s a kid in there?” another cop asks, clearly surprised.
I shove my way past them—screw the consequences—and I run straight toward my room, right to the place I know my brother is hiding.
“Ethan,” I whisper. I don’t want to scare him any more than he is.
I hear ruffling before the closet door opens slightly. “Linc, is that you?” a fragile voice asks and I sigh in relief.
“Yes, E. It’s me,” I assure him. “You can come out now.”
“Are you sure?”
I breathe in deeply, trying to keep my emotions at bay. “Yes, everything’s okay now.” I don’t know if that’s true, but he’s okay and that’s all that matters to me.
Not the Same (Not Alone Novellas Book 2) Page 3
