The Heartbreak

Chapter 22

Delia and I had decided to decorate the tree I had bought the day before. It wasn’t a really beautiful tree, but it was all we could afford at the moment. The only important thing was that my sister had gotten to decorate it and that was one of her favorite parts of holiday season. The not so fun part was to detangle the lights.

“I found the nutcrackers!” she chirped as she rummaged through the boxes I had pulled from the attic. “And the little snowmen.”

I liked to see her being a normal girl. I wanted for her to have a memorable and happy childhood, and not to try to forget it like I did. Delia deserved all of this and much more, so I would try to give her everything I could.

When I had just finished with the lights and Delia started to hang the decorations, there was a knock on our door. Opening it to find my drunk mother being held by Jo’s dad was one of the last things I had expected. The worst was seeing the silver SUV in front of my house with Jo sat in the passenger seat, looking at me with the same pity I never wanted to see directed at me. I didn’t want to become another broken thing she wanted to fix.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “I’m sorry for all the trouble,” I babbled as I tried to make my mother drape an arm around my shoulders. She was limp and her legs barely held her up. I would need to carry her to her room and try Dee didn’t see her in that condition.

“Mason, you know you can call us if you need help or anything.”

I wished I could tell him that I didn’t need anyone’s help, but that scene was enough to discredit my words. Sometimes I only wished my mother would be the one asking help for herself. She needed it, but she didn’t want to accept it. And even if because of her sickness she had made my life a living hell, I didn’t want to lose her too.

“I know, Mr. Rossetti. There’s not much for any of us to do right now, though.”

Jo kept looking at me and her hand touched the glass as if she was trying to reach for me.

“Have you tried speaking to her? Maybe someone close to her that could make her see reason.”

No, we didn’t have many people. My mom was an only child, and her mother had passed away when I was about four. Her father remarried and, well, they never kept in touch. When my father left, she practically lost everything and everyone. My father’s mother helped us with money because she felt embarrassed and guilty, and she always tried to make us feel wanted, even if there were times I doubted.

“We’re the only people we have. Now if you excuse me, I’m going to try to sober her up, or at least keep her away from the booze.”

Mr. Rossetti looked like he wanted to say something more, but instead he just nodded and wished us a good night – which clearly wasn’t for any of us.

I shut the door before he had reached the car. Next, I moved my mother to her room and brought her some water and Tylenol, but when I returned from the kitchen she was asleep on top of the covers. I removed her shoes and covered her with a blanket.

“Is she sick?” Dee asked in a tiny voice from her place near the door on the hallway. She looked devastated there, hugging her knees to her chest. She wasn’t a tall or looked older than her age, but she seemed so little.

I bobbed my head in a yes, because Mom was sick, she had been for a very long time.

“Can we help her?”

“I don’t know, but I’m trying. I’ve tried, Dee.”

She stood up and hugged me. I wasn’t sure who needed it more, but it served its purpose. We had each other and I had to be grateful for that, even if I had no idea how to fix this. I couldn’t bring dad back and it was unfair for Dee to live like this, without loving parents who could appreciate how smart, funny and talented she was.