Chapter 22

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Tom is a stout man who wears faded plaid shirts and corduroy pants that are just a little too tight. The parts of his face that aren't covered in a big bushy beard look like he's contemplating quitting his job or a full frontal lobotomy, but he's pleasant enough. 

His expression is wary as my mom and I walk into his office (not that I blame him).

It doesn't help that my mom's face is tear-stained. She seemed to be doing fine on the bus, but as soon as we walked into the squat concrete building she balked.

"Mrs. Stavros, Ms. Stavros," Tom greets us systematically. "Long time no see."

I force my mouth to work, "Hi Tom, my mom needs to talk to you."

My mom looks so small as she crawls into the hard plastic seat in front of his desk. 

"Hi," my mom's voice is shaky. "So, remember last week when I said I was out of town?"

"Because there was a death in the family?" Tom nods and steeples his chubby fingers over the pile of manilla folders on his desktop.

"Well, what if there wasn't?" My mom cringes.

"I don't understand?" Tom looks confused.

"No one died, thankfully," she stares at her willowy hands. "I just needed a break from all the meetings. It just got to be too much."

"What got to be too much?" Tom's chair squeals in protest when he sits forward to listen.

"Everything," my mom explains. "No one will hire me because of my arrest even for temporary work. And I feel like I don't remember how to be normal. And my daughter is my caretaker. And I've lost my relationship with my parents and my friends because of everything I did. Sometimes it's all too much."

I didn't know my mom was so unhappy. 

"Look, we all slip," Tom says with a slow nod. "Lord knows that I certainly had a few setbacks on my road to sobriety. Good thing is, mistakes mean you're human."

When we first met him, Tom told us he was ten years sober. 

"Now, this week is your monthly court-mandated drug test," Tom says. "Which is going to be a problem if you've been using."

"I know," my mom mumbles into her chest.

"But, I'm pretty busy this week," Tom shifts in his seat. "How about we administer your test at our meeting next week?"

"Really?" I release a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Tom"

Tom smiles encouragingly.

"Well, hopefully by next week, you'll be in better shape to take the test," he replies. "Be grateful that your daughter is helping you through this. I wasn't so lucky. 

My mom nods while my heart silently rips in half. Poor Tom. I have no idea how bad his addiction got, but losing your family is a particular sort of hell I wouldn't wish on anyone.  

"Well, it was nice seeing you ladies," Tom exhales and gestures toward his office door. "Just remember, this is a one-time-only thing. I'll see you next week."

"Thank you, Tom," I gush as I follow my mom out. "Thank you, so much."

On our crowded bus ride home my phone began to buzz urgently in my pocket.

I check the screen, but it's a number I don't recognize. 

"Hello?" I answer.

"Hi Moira, it's Will," the friendly voice of my teacher makes my whole body blush.

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