After Austin leaves I trek back inside, sighing as I'm greeted by a dead silent dimly lit living room. My eyes graze over the duffel bag that Mom left lying on the middle of the sofa. Mentally bracing myself, I begin the reluctant walk to her room.

I knock on the door gently before pushing it open. My lips purse when I see her stuffing clothes from her dresser drawers into a trash bag. A lit cigarette hangs from her mouth, smoke flittering into the air.

"Going somewhere?" I ask, careful to keep my tone neutral.

"Rehab," She quips, leaning over the bed and flicking ashes into the glass ashtray that sits on the rumpled sheets.

I raise a brow, stunned. A part of me doesn't believe her. "What made you want to do that?"

She ties off the trash bag in her hand and snaps open a new one, all without making eye contact. "They got an assisted living program that I can stay in if I finish my sixty days."

If.

"How are you gonna pay for it?" I question.

Finally, Mom looks at me. "Your sugar daddy set me up at a facility up in Nashville. How nice of him," She states flatly.

I straighten up, confused. "My-? Are you talking about Austin?"

Mom rolls her eyes and ties up another trash bag. Repeats the process, this time scooping random change and pill bottles into it. "You got another one that I don't know about?"

"Austin is my boyfriend," I state calmly. "Who apparently paid out of pocket to help you get clean. So yeah, How nice of him."

I rub my temples with my finger soothingly, my mind racing. After all the drama.. Austin paid and arranged for my mom to go to rehab. My heart clenches at the thought of all the debt that I feel owed to him.

"And you're actually gonna go?" I question. "No arguing or throwing a tantrum?"

"I don't give a shit anymore, Aria," She says flatly, slamming the drawer closed. "There's nothing here for me anymore."

For a brief moment, I think about how this is the first coherent, sober sentence she's said to me in months. Then I place the patronizing, bored tone in her voice as the one she's used when speaking to me for my entire life. Almost as if I'm an inanimate object instead of her daughter.

"What about your kids?" I say pointedly. "Did you forget that the one right down the hall is about to graduate high school?"

"She doesn't need me there. She has you," She says distractedly.

Anger rushes up my spine and I grit my teeth, instinctively reeling in the emotions that I've never let her see.

Kind of the same way she does with me.

And then I remember that she's supposedly leaving. Up and leaving us in the rear view like Dad did. And then I think about healing, the talks I've shared with both Savannah and Austin when it comes to forgiving a parent who isn't even sorry.

I look at the woman who birthed me and feel.. sad. But not for me.

"I feel sorry for you," I say quietly.

She glances up, eyes narrowed.

"I feel sorry that you made a commitment to bringing children into this world and didn't follow through with the responsibilities that come with raising them. I feel sorry that you missed out on getting to know us. You failed as a mother and as a wife, and I pity you."

Mom's face flushes with anger when I mention her marriage. "I don't need pity. I don't need anything from you."

"Same here," I shrug.

A beat passes, and then, I mutter, "I don't forgive you. I don't forgive either of you. And I don't have to, and.. I'm okay with that. I'll be okay."

"I wasn't the mother you wanted," She says, shrugging.

"No, you weren't the mother I needed."

I lean away from my stance against the door frame and shrug back at her. "I hope everything works out with you, and that you do well in rehab. Honestly. If it works, don't come back. If it doesn't, don't come back. I mean it."

I turn around to leave but pause when she says, "That boy.. he loves you. You're lucky. You're set for life if you stay with him."

I look over my shoulder and meet her gaze directly when I say, "Our love isn't conditional, but I wouldn't expect you to know anything about that. Leave your key on the dresser before you leave, please."

When I step into my room a misty-eyed Savannah launches herself from my bed and into my arms. I close my bedroom door, not wanting Mom to intrude on our family moment.

I wrap her in my arms and squeeze. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. She shouldn't be saying those thin-"

She pulls back and shakes her head. "I'm not emotional because of Mom. I'm emotional because.. I'm really proud of you," Her voice cracks. "And I'm.. so thankful for everything you've done for me. So thankful, Aria."

My throat closes up as I pull her back into my arms. "Our love isn't conditional either. I love you so much, Savvy. I'd do anything for you."

"I know," She laughs/cries. "But.. I need you to take care of yourself the same way that you take care of me."

I pull back and she grabs my arm, pulling me to the bed. She gives me a pointed look and says, "Don't be mad at Austin, okay? I know technically he hid the whole knew-about-Dad-stalking-you thing, and that's like, frowned upon in relationships, but he had a good reason and-"

"Savannah," I mumble with a smile. "I'm not mad at Austin. I don't think I ever was."

"Then why did you break up with him?" She shoots back quickly.

I flinch back in a mix of shock and confusion. "Okay, first of all, we didn't break up. We're taking a break. Sorta.. I think?" I shake my head. "Look, it doesn't matter. The point is that we're taking a short break.. pause? while I work on myself. We didn't end things. Second of all, how the hell did you know about him knowing about the stalking, and the fact that we sat down and had the whole "break" conversation last night?"

"Aria, Austin tells me things," She says seriously. "I'm kind of his wing-woman."

I snort out a laugh. "Oh yeah? I thought you were supposed to be my wing-woman?"

"Think of it like this; I'm not working against you, I'm working with you. With both of you, technically. Austin and I are best friends. It's snapchat official and everything," She confirms.

I gape at her. "I though we were best friends?!"

Savannah sighs and squeezes my shoulder. "Sorry you had to find out like this."

We break into laugher as I pull her into another hug. Throughout all of our playful banter, I hadn't even heard the front door close. When I peek in Mom's empty room a half hour later, I'm surprised that I feel at peace, unlike the usual feelings of dread and misery that usually unravel whenever I would find her missing during one of her benders with Dina.

Today felt like a first step, and it felt damn good.

Later that night I pull up Austin's contact and thumb out a quick text.

His response is quick, even though I know it's usually at this time that he's getting ready for a long shift at Vice.

Butterflies erupt in the pit of my stomach as I read his text and I find myself grinning softly, a hint of contentment washing over me.

The feeling is the push I need to exit out of our text chain and pull up the web browser on my phone. Biting my lip nervously, I type in "Therapists near me" and hit search.

As badly as I want to call Austin and ask him to ditch work so that we can say "fuck it" and forget the whole mention of a brief break/pause, I know that I will never be able to fully give the best parts of me to Austin if I don't find them and give them to myself first.

So.. onto step two.

——

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️