“What happened to ‘I’ll promise anything’?” I asked bitterly. “You only meant anything that didn’t really matter to me.”
I could see from the look in her eyes that she was hurt as well as angered by my accusation. At that point, I didn’t care. I was pretty hurt and angry, too.
“That isn’t fair,” she said, and I wanted to scream.
“I’m going to be out there risking my life, and it’s too much of me to ask that you stay sober for a little while? That’s just great, Mom. Thanks a lot. Glad to know I matter to you so much.”
I was so mad I felt like hitting something, and tears burned my eyes. Why didn’t she care how much her drinking hurt me? I might not be perfect or anything, but I thought I was a pretty good daughter. I never got into any trouble—at least, not until I came to Avalon—and I’d always taken care of her. Above and beyond the call of duty, no less. I got good grades, and I usually managed to keep my anger securely hidden.
She’d been the one constant in my life, when my life revolved around moving from place to place every year or so. I couldn’t make any long-term friends, had never had any other family. My mom had been my everything for as long as I could remember.
My lower lip quivered, and a tear trickled down my cheek. Usually, I fight tears with everything I have, especially when I’m not alone. Today, I let them come. I let my mom see just how hurt I was.
The look in her eyes softened into one of dismay, and she came back to sit beside me and take my clenched fists into her hands.
“Dana, honey, of course you matter to me.”
She pulled me to my feet and wrapped her arms around me. I was far too angry to return her embrace, but she didn’t let go.
“I love you more than anything,” my mother said as I stood stiffly in her arms and cried. “You have to know that.”
“But not enough to stop drinking,” I said, my voice muffled by her shoulder. “Never enough for that.”
Mom’s hands slid to my shoulders, and she pushed me away a little bit so she could look into my eyes. I wanted to look away, but she took hold of my chin.
“My drinking has nothing,
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “But you don’t care that it hurts me to see you destroying yourself.”
“I’m not going to destroy myself,” she said, sounding like she meant it. “There are lots of people in the world who drink, honey. It’s just … something adults do. I am truly sorry it bothers you, but please don’t worry about me. I’m going to be just fine.”
What was the use in fighting it? Even if I somehow managed to get her to promise, there was nothing I could do to make her keep the promise. Nothing sent her diving for the booze faster than stress, and she was going to be stressed to the max for the entire time I was gone.
I jerked away from her, no longer able to stomach the excuses or the hollow reassurances. “Fine,” I said. “Drink as much as you want. Pickle your liver and pass out on the floor in a puddle of your own puke. See if I care!”
“Dana!” Her cheeks went white with shock, although this wasn’t the first time since we’d been in Avalon that I’d given in to the temptation to let her know what I really thought of her. I was being a mean-spirited, ungrateful little bitch, and I didn’t give a damn. I was tired of pretending all was well when it wasn’t, tired of humoring her, tired of forcing my feelings into a little mental box so I could be the polite, dutiful daughter.
“Go home, Mom,” I said, pulling away from her when she tried to reach for me. “I’m sure Dad will give you your passport back before we leave for Faerie. Go back to the States and
I slammed out of the room before she could respond. I half expected her to chase after me, but she didn’t. Maybe my words had cut too deep, maybe she needed time to recover. Or maybe she knew I’d say something even uglier if she came after me. Whatever the reason, the fact that she stayed up in her room and made no attempt to get me to come back just made me that much angrier.
Both my dad and Finn looked at me in dismay as I slammed the door to the stairway and stomped into the living room where they were waiting for me. There was no way either of them could miss how upset I was. I might have wiped the tears away, but I’m sure my eyes and nose were all red. I suspected this was not what my dad had in mind when he asked me to come over.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I declared before either of them could say a word.
If either one of them had been human, they might have tried to talk to me anyway. However, the typical Fae reserve worked to my advantage. Finn was never big on talking, and my dad looked lost and uncomfortable.
“I want to go home now,” I said, staring at the floor so I wouldn’t have to see their faces.
There was a moment of silence.
“Call me if you decide later that you want to talk after all,” my dad said. “Anytime.”
His gentle tone almost made me start crying again. A few weeks ago, he hadn’t even known I existed. Now he was the only parent who acted like he loved me.
As it was, I managed to croak out a thanks, then made a beeline for the door so fast Finn had to run to catch up.
The rest of my afternoon sucked—I brooded about my mom and what she would do when Dad let her go. I racked my brain for something I could do or say that would make her decide to stay off the booze, but I’d already proven that nothing I said or did mattered.
There were probably a million things I should have been doing to prepare myself for the trip to Faerie, but the drama with my mom had robbed me of my will. Instead of being productive, I spent hours playing stupid Internet games on my laptop, lulling myself into a zombielike trance.
I was playing a really convoluted game involving dice, cards, and—ha-ha—zombies, when I was startled out of my stupor by a knock on the door to my suite. I blinked and glanced at the clock on my screen, seeing it was already eight o’clock at night. Finn is really good at being unobtrusive, and he usually confines himself strictly to the guard room, giving me some semblance of privacy in my suite. I don’t get too many knocks on my door, especially not at night.
My pulse jumped, and I feared more bad news was on its way.
“Come in,” I called, crossing my fingers.
The door opened to reveal not Finn, but my father. I was surprised to see him, because he usually called before coming.
“Is something wrong?” I asked before he had a chance to say a word.
“No, no,” he said as he came in and took a seat on the sofa in the homey little sitting area. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
“I still don’t want to talk about it,” I warned, gearing up for an argument.
Instead, Dad nodded. “Understood. I don’t know what happened between you and your mother, but I know it’s my fault for asking you to come over when she was so overwrought. I’m afraid I was a little out of my element, and I leaned on you when I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
My throat tightened with gratitude. There was no denying that sometimes, my dad could be a pretty cool guy. “’S okay,” I said, not completely sure how to respond to a sincere parental apology.
There was a long silence as both my dad and I tried to think of what to say next. This whole father/daughter relationship thing was equally new to both of us.
Eventually, my dad cleared his throat and said, “I thought you might have some questions to ask me about Faerie and the logistics of our trip to the Sunne Palace.”
Wow. My dad, volunteering information! I wanted to accuse him of being a pod person, but I didn’t think he’d get the joke. Humor is not his thing, though considering what little I knew about his life, that wasn’t a surprise. My father was something like a thousand years old, and you can pack a hell of a lot of trauma and heartache into a
