After my interview with Charlie, I returned to the hard plastic chair that was closest to the television. It turned out a few hours and a disgusting bologna sandwich later, I was released. Apparently, Amber had dropped the assault charges and Reece never filed any.
Now the sucky part about being arrested is that they don’t drop you off where they arrested you. Nope, they take you down a lengthy corridor and walk you through a gate that is buzzed open by some unseen police officer and out you go.
I had never been arrested, but I had bailed my mom out before. I exhaled as the gate opened. I stepped out into the street. My purse and cell phone were in my dorm. My clothes were still damp and while the spring days were beautiful, the nights were still only in the 50s. With no money for a cab and no phone to call anyone, but then again who would I call? I began the three-mile walk back to campus. Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered me but a three-mile walk at 3 a.m. in the seediest part of Vegas was not my idea of fun.
Placing one foot in front of the other, I swore I would never be duped again. I was Syn Patrick; I was going to own who I was and where I was from. I was tired of trying to fit into a world that obviously didn’t want me. No matter how bad shit was right now, everything had a bottom. I was positive I had reached mine. Things could only get better from here, I told myself.
Apparently, I’m a damn liar. I should have known things could always get worse. As soon as I stepped into my small room, I saw my phone blinking in the darkness. I was going to ignore it and tumble into bed, exhausted, when I looked and saw that I had missed 42 calls from Uncle Jack and 12 text messages. Immediately, my exhaustion was replaced with panic. I scrolled through the messages, ignoring the ones from Reece.
My hands shook when I read the message from Uncle Jack.
8:20 P.M., Your mom, overdosed, at Sunrise Med Center, take a cab I will pay for it. UJ.
I didn’t hesitate; my first call was to a cab service, and the next was to Uncle Jack. It took about 10 calls and fifteen minutes for him to eventually answer.
“Uncle Jack, how’s mom?” I asked, winded from sprinting to meet the cab at the front of campus. I flung myself into the taxi and directed the driver where to take me. I shuddered, then I realized I had the wet clothes on from yesterday.
“Doll, when you get here I’ll meet you in the back by emergency,” he answered.
I realized he hadn’t answered my question and felt my heart start to beat faster. “Uncle Jack, is mom a-alive?” I choked out; my breathing labored as I struggled to push down the fear that was clawing its way to the surface.
“I think we…” he started.
“No!” I shrieked, not caring that I was rudely interrupting him mid-sentence. The cabbie looked at me in his rearview mirror and then quickly back on the road.
“Is. She. Dead?” I had to know; I had to know now.
“Yes, hon,” came his pained response. I didn’t hear much of what he said next. It was something about talking to me when I got there, and for me not to worry.
Without thinking I threw the cell out the window, not wanting to look at it again. I sat back in the tattered leather seats and blankly stared out the window as the Vegas landscape rushed by.
I would like to say that I was surprised, but I wasn’t, even though I still was. How many times had I went to the emergency room with her when she overdosed on something? Countless. How many times had they told her that the next OD could be her last? Too many to calculate.
Like every kid with a messed up parent, a part of me wanted to believe that someday she would get better. Deep down, a little part me wanted her to wake up someday and be the mom in The Brady Bunch. Yeah, that part of me needed to be slapped upside the head.
The next few days were a blur. I don’t know what I would have done without Uncle Jack. He met me as soon as the cab pulled up. He held my hand while the nurse pulled back the sheet so I could give my mother a kiss, it was the only time I had ever seen her look peaceful. With her hi-cheekbones and long, red hair she made me wonder what she would have looked like without the needle marks on her, fragile, arms and the dark smudges under her closed eyes.
Uncle Jack took care of all the arrangements and spoke to all the doctors. He brought me back to the small apartment above the bar. His new bar had yet be renovated, but he had them build his new apartment first so he wouldn’t have to stay in the pricey Vegas hotels. I know he mentioned, many times, that he would have mine ready in about two months, and he wished me to live with him until it was completed. I settled on his sofa, and he covered me with a blanket that smelled like old spice.
Other than getting up to pee and grab an apple here and there, I didn’t move. I had lost my mom, my dream boyfriend and now according to the phone call, my UJ was on, my UNLV dorm room and scholarship. Apparently, there was some agreement made that Amber would decline to press charges as long as I was no longer at school. Since she had taken out a restraining order against me, it would have been problematic to go back anyways.
“You don’t need to go back Synclair. You're almost twenty-one, you can help me with the books, and once you're of age, I will teach ya how to run the bar.” I could tell my uncle was hoping I’d say yes.
“I don’t get it, Uncle Jack.” I started, pushing myself up to a sitting position. Tucking my feet underneath me, I pulled my wild hair back into a careless ponytail with a hair tie I’d had on my wrist. “Mom never talked about her past, or a brother, or her parents and especially not about her inheritance. The only proof I even have that you two were related was the fact that she admitted it the night you walked into the KFC I worked at.”
Uncle Jack had popped into my life about 8 months ago. I was working the night shift at KFC, and he walked in and asked my manager when I could take a break, since it was quiet my boss called me over and the rest was history.
It was awesome for a while, but when I asked mom if she had a brother she would only confirm it, but refused more details. Whenever the two were in the same room, they did nothing but argue. Still, my mother had him as an emergency contact for the hospital, so there had to be something there.
“My parents were immigrants from Dublin, Ireland,” UJ explained. “My father was a partner in a ship building company there. He retired, he sold his stake in the company, and moved to the states. My parents settled into a large, Victorian home in the trendy side of San Francisco. My mother was already pregnant with your mom, Aggie, when they settled here. I came along about six years after, so there was a bit of anage difference between us. It was important to my father that Aggie embraced American culture. Being raised by an Irish mother, she had picked up lots of Gaelic phrases and even had an Irish accent. Father, had tutors teach her to speak without the Irish pronunciation, in fact, both my parents had tutors to help them communicate with less of an Irish tone.” His blue eyes shimmered with tears, and suddenly I felt like a fool for making him talk about this.
“I’m sorry UJ,” I used my nickname for him and smiled. I placed my small hand over his large, chubby one. I wasn’t affectionate with many people, and seldom ever with my mother, but I needed him to know I cared. “We don’t have to do this right now, it’s not like it matters, you’re here, and I love you.” I squeezed his hand, amazed to realize I meant it. I did love Uncle Jack, and I didn’t care if he and mom never got along or what happened in the past, I just knew he was on a short list of people who choose to believe in me and to give a crap whether I lived or died, UJ was my hero.
“No love, it’s fine. You should know about your mom and your grandparents. My father was an extremely strict and hard man. He was not affectionate and demanded obedience from all around him. Years of running an enterprise and having money spoiled him because he was used to everyone doing what he wanted. He was also heavy handed.”
“He hit you?” I was surprised, it never dawned on me that there could be reasons my mother turned to drugs, I was just too busy being pissed that she did.
UJ’s sad blue eyes ca
ught my hazel ones. I could tell he didn’t want to say anymore. One hand cupped my cheek as he sighed.
“Dear God, you have your mother’s eyes,” He said wistfully. “Her name was Agatha, but we always called her Aggie. She wasn’t always a drug addict. She was once full of life and beautiful.” Dropping his hand from my cheek, he stood up from the couch and turned away from me. I thought maybe he was done speaking, but when he turned around, I saw the tears streaking down his cheeks.
“I loved my big sister, Aggie. We were playmates and friends. She read me stories and would take the blame when I broke a dish or forgot a chore. It was always her butt, my father paddled.” UJ smiled at me sadly.
“She wanted his attention and approval. I learned from a young age no one could please him, but she tried. When she was eighteen, my father decided it was time for her to date. However, my father chose all the suitors. All of them with money, education and status. My sister didn’t like any of them, but she endured the dates to please my father. When she came home crying after a date with a particular boy, she told me the man had attacked her. Her being 18, I was only ten, I ran and informed my father right away.” I could see UJ shake with anger at the memory.
“My father, the bastard, made her strip so he could see the marks. She was bruised on her arms and her thighs had purple marks from being spread apart by force. Instead of comforting her or going after the raping bastard, he began to yell at Aggie. He told her he would be a laughingstock; he blamed her for not being stronger to fight off the beast.”
“Grandpa was an asshole UJ,” I told him, the anger coming through loud and clear. I couldn’t imagine what my mom had gone through. Hell, I didn’t even know her name until I was ten, and that was only because a Police officer banged on our hotel door wanting to arrest her for something.
First, she was raped and then she was humiliated and blamed by the guy that was supposed to protect her, her father. No wonder my mother never spoke of her family, she probably hated their guts.
“Yes, he was. Your mom was never the same. She no longer tried to satisfy him. She started going to clubs, coming home drunk and getting into massive battles with my father. The crowd she hung with not only drank but also did various drugs. Sometimes, I would come home from school, and she would be on the couch in a weird fog. My mother would shoo me away, and my father just ignored her.” I waited for him to continue, yet not sure I wanted to hear anymore.
“When I was eighteen, I left to go to Stanford for a business degree. Your mom overdosed while my parents and I were getting me settled into my dorm room. If the housekeeper hadn’t called 911, she would have died. It was when she got to the hospital that we found out she was pregnant with you, baby girl,” he gazed at me affectionately.
“My father was livid, my mother just cried, and I just held your mom’s hand.” He sighed and sat back down on the worn, cream colored, leather sofa. He grabbed my hands in his and turned so that were sitting knee to knee.
“My father threw her out of the house; he told her not to come home unless she was willing to go to rehab. Of course, my sister agreed, she had nowhere else to go and no money aside from what my parents provided. So she went to rehab and came home six weeks later, my parents seemed appeased, and my father set her up with an appointment to see a physician for the baby.”
“So what happened? What went wrong?” I wanted to know.
“She was about seven months along when I found her in her room with a needle in her arm.”
“What?” I reared back like I’d been slapped. “She was using drugs while she was pregnant, she could have killed us both,” I practically shouted.
“But she didn’t,” UJ pointed out. “But I did tell my father; I thought he would put her in rehab or a hospital. Instead, they had a huge fight, and she told me I was dead to her. The next morning she was gone. My parents tried to find her but apparently your father, who was also her drug dealer, had persuaded her that all of her dreams would come true in Las Vegas. I pressured my parents to chase after her but my father was too stubborn, and my mother would never go against his wishes. Everyone was forbidden to mention her name and all of her pictures were removed from the walls. The two times I found her number her she hung up on me. When I was about twenty-five, I got the call that my parents had died in an accident. I was working on Wall Street as a stockbroker, at the time. It was a weird feeling of sadness and relief. I never wanted to be a stockbroker; I had done it for my father. I tried to reach out to your mother again; she told me she didn’t have parents and hung up on me. So, I let the lawyers deal with the will and the sale of the house and told them to send whatever the inheritance was to Aggie in Nevada. They had to use a private detective to get her address.
I decided to take a vacation to Ireland. I was always curious about it; I wanted to see where my parents came from. So, I quit my job and flew to Ireland,” he sighed as if he was lost in a memory he wasn’t willing to share.
“I remember my mom getting a lot of money; I don’t know how much. I know it was the first time I got dolls to play with. We stayed in Treasure Island on the Strip. She talked about getting a house, going on a trip and a bunch of other stuff that never happened,” I told him bitterly.
“She was given a million dollars practically, and you never got a house?” He asked in disbelief.
“No, her new guy Dan, a real low life, convinced her to invest the money in his business ventures. They never worked out; mom lost all the money, and Dan split as soon as the money was gone.” Yeah, that was a great memory.
Sighing, I looked at UJ. He looked tired, and his eyes were red from crying. The wrinkles around his eyes looked deeper than I had ever seen and he seemed pale, even for an Irish guy.
“So you went to Ireland and decided, I want to have s bar?” I asked him, trying to lighten up the conversation. I was tired, and my head was pounding as I tried to process all the information he had given me. However, I wanted to know it all.
“I met a woman in Ireland, she was feisty and beautiful and gave me a run for my money,” he chuckled. “She was getting married to a dull little man, and we had planned for her to leave him and be with me.” I watched his eyes gloss over, and his expression harden.
“She was pregnant, and she was going to leave the little twit. Until her family found out and poured on the Irish Catholic guilt. Long story short, she broke it off with me and decided to stay with him. I was heartbroken, but I refused to be shut out of my daughter’s life.” I could almost feel how much he regretted his decision.
“Kathryn, begged me to let the man, Walt, raise our child. Swore it was best. Angry, I returned to New York. My daughter was born, and I am ashamed that I let my foolish anger keep me from her. The little toad ended up raising my daughter, the first time I met my Cami; was three years ago. She is lovely.” He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled. Once he found what he was looking for he showed me a picture of a girl about 13 or 14 years old. She had UJ’s sparkling blue eyes and gorgeous long brown hair. She was wearing what looked like a school uniform. White polo, blue skirt and black Mary Janes. She had UJ’s nose and with her lovely pink lips, she was going to be a knockout in a few years.
“She’s beautiful. Wow, she’s my cousin,” I told him grinning. I had a cousin; it was strange but just knowing she was family made me want to know her, made me want to see her, but what could I offer her?
UJ laughed. “Yes Syn, you have a cousin, and she is remarkably smart, and we text back and forth, and I go to Ireland during the holidays when she’s on break from school. You’ll see her at Christmas.” It was the first time I had seen my uncle grin from ear to ear. Even in his older age, he was still handsome; it was a shame he was alone.
“So why a bar? Why Vegas? Why make the effort with mom and me now?” Those were the questions I needed answered. I couldn’t help but speculate what was in it for him. His sister was a druggie, and I was an ex-college student working for Kentucky Fried Chicken, worse than that, I had lousy
taste in men.
“I figured we would get to that question.” He sat back down on the sofa and looked at me; I couldn’t read his expression, so I just sat and waited for him to speak.
“I missed my Cami in Ireland; I missed having family around me. What’s more Irish than a bar? What better place to build a bar, ran by a real Irish man, then Las Vegas? Sure there are some Irish named pubs in the heart of the strip. But I think I can pull in enough tourists and locals to make a go of it. When I first had the renovation plans drawn up, I was building your apartment as a two bedroom so that your mother would have a place to live if she was willing to get clean.” He shook his head. “It was the first conversation I had with Aggie when I showed up here. She was still angry at me for telling my father what she was using, unless I was prepared to give her money, I was of no use to her. That’s when I knew my big sister was gone. I saw the clothes hang off her thin body. I saw those big hazel eyes, so much like my mother’s, dull and glazed over; as whatever hit she took, before I got there, kicked in.”
I wish I could say the scenario surprised me. It didn’t that was my life and mom in that condition was as normal to me as tying my shoes every day.
“She wasn’t going to stop UJ,” I told him affectionately using his nickname again. “She wasn’t going to stop for me, for you, or anyone, whoever she was before she was raped wasn’t there anymore.” I felt bad; I knew my mother had been through a lot, but she had chosen not to deal with what happened. She hid away in drugs and chose that life over me, time and time again.
“I know. That’s why I set up your bank account when I found out you were starting school. I wanted you to be able to have things you needed. I changed the plans for the apartment to give you a huge master bedroom instead of a two bedroom, I didn’t want your mother to have a place to go. Honey listen, I know losing your scholarship and being treated badly by that Hudson prick is a lot to take in right now. But I have to admit, I’m glad I have the opportunity to have you work with me and live near me. You’re my family Syn; I love you.”
Before The Dawn: Prequel to Back to You - Synclair and Reece! See Where It All Began! (A Hudson Family Series- PREQUEL to BACK TO YOU! Book 0) Page 10
