“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says. I let go first so we can sit down. “How are you doing? Do you have support, Indie?”
I squirm in my seat. She doesn’t know about my therapy. “I’m doing okay, I suppose. I have people.”
“A boy?”
A boy? I’m twenty. “There’s someone, yes.”
“Good, I’m glad you’re not going through this alone.”
No need to tell her the whole truth. It might just make her feel worse. She’ll blame herself, and that could affect her progress here. We’ll need to have a very open and honest conversation someday, but now isn’t the time.
“Tell me how you’re doing? Is everyone nice here?” I ask.
“The people are lovely. They understand and don’t judge. It’s very difficult discussing what I’ve done—especially what I’ve done to you. Hearing your own failings is… heartbreaking. But I know it’s something I have to do. I have to get better so I can make it up to you.”
“I’m all right.”
She shakes her head. Her hair looks healthier than it has in a long time. It still needs a good cut but it’s clean. It even has a bit of a shine to it.
“You’re not all right, Indie. You deserved better than what Dad and I gave you. We should have dealt with his accident and depression in the right way. I should have been stronger and given him an ultimatum; he stops drinking or leaves. Instead, I drank with him until neither of us could stop. I’m sorry for that. I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes well with tears, and so do mine.
I clear my throat. “I forgive you.”
She sobs, one hand flying to cover her heart while the other wipes her eyes. “Gosh, I said I wouldn’t cry. That means the world to me. I don’t want to make promises. I know I have a long road ahead of me, but I will try my hardest to make this right for you.”
“You can do it, Mum.”
“Have you thought about the house yet?”
“What about it?”
She glances out of the window. “About selling it?”
“Um, no. Why would we sell?”
I know why I want to leave but that’s her home. It has been since she was my age.
“It still looks like the place your dad died.”
“I thought I’d decorate. Once I’m done, it won’t look anything like it did. You could come home to a new house. It’ll be a fresh start.”
“Do you have time to do that?”
“No, but I have time to hire decorators. In fact, the painting and new flooring is booked in. I’ve found new furniture, a bed for you, new splashback, and paint for the kitchen cabinet doors. I just wanted to see you and run it by you first.”
“You sure get stuck in.”
“I can cancel it all if you want me to.”
“No, don’t do that. I trust your judgement. I want a fresh start in my home with my daughter. There’s so much I need to put right.”
“Okay.”
“I’m allowed home for one night over Christmas.”
“I thought you might be home for good by then.”
“Christmas and New Year are bad times to leave rehab. My therapist and I agree that I should wait until January. I can come home in the afternoon on Christmas Eve and spend Christmas morning with you.”
“You’re coming back here on Christmas day?”
“Well, I thought you might have plans. A taxi will pick me up midday to bring me back. Now that I know there definitely is a boy, I’m glad I organised it that way.”
I’m not sure if this half Christmas day is more about her not wanting to be tempted by alcohol, or if she really is thinking of me. I’ll take it either way.
She doesn’t know anything about Spencer. I don’t fancy telling her that Mr Hollywood is mine. Not that she keeps up with celebrities these days.
“I was planning on going to his in the afternoon. It will be… nice for us to spend the morning together.”
Nice. It could be.
“That works out well.”
“Will you cancel the taxi? I’d like to bring you back. We can have our Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve. I’ll bring you back here after we’ve spent the morning watching Christmas movies and eating tins of chocolate.”
Her eyes sparkle. “That sounds perfect. And next year, I’ll be cooking you dinner on Christmas day.”
God, I love the sound of that. “You’re looking much better, Mum.”
“I feel it. It’s taken a few weeks for that to happen. The detox was hard, and it’s not completely over, but the doctor thinks that if I stay away from alcohol, I shouldn’t have any long-term medical conditions.”
The yellowing skin is almost gone, the dark circles around her eyes have lightened, and her stomach is no longer swollen. She probably has a way to go yet—she put a lot of strain on her body—but things are definitely looking up. It’s amazing the repair work your body can do when it’s no longer being abused. I can’t wait to see her in another few weeks. Will she look like the woman I remember, pre-alcohol?
“I’m glad, Mum.”
“I just wish I could have had this wakeup call without losing David.” She blinks rapidly to stop herself from crying. “What will I do without him?”
“You have a future; please look towards it. Dad would want that. When you’re better, you can do anything.”
“Maybe I’ll retrain and do something to help others in similar situations.”
I laugh. “Join the club.”
“Uni,” she says. “Your course. It’s counselling, right?”
“Yes.”
She sits straighter as soon as she realises why. “You want to help people who have grown up with alcoholic parents?”
“Not just addict parents. Any kind of trauma. I want to predominantly work with young adults. There are so many who could go either way. There are lots of programs for people who are in their early twenties, getting them
