It’s a bit sad to sit alone and play Buckaroo in the kitchen.
I unlock my phone and send a text to Spencer. He’s currently getting to know his co-star, Jimmy Harvey. He’s playing the guy from his gang who screws him over. They’re getting on well, apparently. Jimmy has done some amazing movies, so I’m really excited for Spence.
Indie: Hey, Hollywood. Did you know that you’re the hottest man on the planet? #SpencerLoweHottestManEva is an actual hashtag. I happen to agree.
One thing I keep up with is cyber stalking Spence. There are a lot of articles about him, and a lot of women wanting to marry him. I’ve seen some of the things people write to him on Twitter. They actually make me blush.
Some women will literally do anything for him in the bedroom.
Spencer: As long as you agree. Are you feeling any better?
Indie: I’m not sick anymore, just really tired. You’ll be happy to know that I’m taking the rest of the week off uni to recover.
Spencer: Good girl. When did you get so sensible over uni?
I roll my eyes. I’ve always been sensible. Two alcoholic parents make you grow up a lot faster than you should.
Indie: Make sure you get Jimmy’s autograph for me.
Spencer: You’re dating an actor now. You’re not allowed to fangirl.
Indie: You better break up with me then, because I’m going full fangirl when I meet him.
I picture his laugh, and I smile. My body aches to be with him. I want to curl up next to him in bed and have him hold me. Facing the funeral of my dad alone, alongside Mum’s detox being so heavy, I long for someone to lighten the load. Spencer would do that. He would make it as easy as it possibly could be.
Spencer: Never. I booked my flight today. I’ll be home in just over two weeks.
My heart stops. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. How am I going to deal with that? Mum might not be well by then. I’m supposed to be at Spencer’s house for half of Christmas day.
Indie: Good. I can’t wait.
Don’t think about that now. It’s one more thing to add to the list.
“Indie!” Mum shouts.
Startled, I drop my phone on the table and leap off the chair.
“Mum, what is it?” I ask, running into the living room.
Her face is twisted, and she writhes on the sofa. “I can’t take this…”
I kneel down and place my hand on her shoulder. Her T-shirt is damp, and her skin is cool.
“Let me call someone, Mum. Please.”
“I-I don’t want to lose you,” she croaks, looking into my eyes.
I blink, and a tear rolls down my cheek. “Then do this properly. Please.”
She looks up at the ceiling. “’Kay.”
I take in a breath. “All right. I’ll make a call.”
Standing, I watch her for one minute more before going to retrieve my phone. There’s a rehab centre thirty minutes away. I’ve researched it before. I’ve even called. The only way I could get my parents in there is if there was a court order, or if they volunteered.
They weren’t going to volunteer.
I make the call, speaking to the same lady I did before. I’ve had her name on my phone notes for eighteen months, waiting and wishing that I would get to call her again.
“All right, Indie, we will see you soon,” she says after a long conversation.
I tap the red button, and a burst of emotion pumps through my veins. They have a room for my mum. I can take her now.
“Hey, Mum,” I say.
Her eyes are red when she looks over. “Am I going away?”
I nod. “To Right Start Rehabilitation. It’s the one on the edge of the city. I spoke to Laura, and they have a room. They’ll help with the detox process, making sure you’re as comfortable as possible. Then they’ll work on rebuilding your life, helping you stay away from alcohol in the future.”
She takes a ragged breath. “I’m scared.”
“I am, too, but if you do this, we can start over.”
“Your dad… what about the funeral?”
“I can visit you after the first week. We’ll talk about everything you want, and I’ll arrange it with the funeral director.”
Lip trembling, she reaches out and brushes my hair. “T-That’s a lot on you.”
I’m used to it.
I take her and hold on tightly. “I’m happy to do it if it means you’re getting better. I need my mum.”
I still really fucking need my mum.
Although I was young, I still remember the parent she is capable of being. We were close back then. She always made me laugh, read my favourite books to me, sang and danced around the kitchen to crap pop music. She was kind and caring, and I never worried about a single thing.
If we can have that back then going through the grief of losing Dad and organising his funeral alone will be worth it.
“How are you so perfect after everything we’ve…?” Mum sobs, covering her mouth with her other hand.
I shake my head. “Just get yourself better. Please.”
“I will.” She nods, her eyes wide and determined. “I won’t let you down again.”
Her words pour warmth onto my heart, nurturing the little girl locked inside. The one who was desperate for her parents to love her.
Thirty-Two
Indie
My mum has a room in rehab. I’ve never been so happy when it comes to my mother. This is a massive step in the right direction.
I stand by the door with my arms folded, leaning on the wall, watching her.
Doctor Willis—Elliott, he’s insisted on being called—turns around from making sure Mum is comfortable. She’s exhausted.
This isn’t a typical admission. I’ll have to cut contact for a week, though. After that, I’m allowed to call.
I won’t tell her, but I’m terrified of doing
