Page 93 of The Surprise
“The idiot part? I’m happy to admit that.”
He laughs.
“The thing is, there’s this guy I’ve known for a long time. We’ve gone back and forth a lot.” I’m about to say more, but I’m distracted.
“No, no,” my dad’s saying. “I can’t drink this.”
“Wait, are you broken like Amelia?” Grandma asks. “Is that why you’ve been so supportive?”
That’s the first time I realize that Grandma and Grandpa don’t understand alcoholism at all. I’m sick of hearing about it, so I used the word fix earlier, but I know that’s not quite right. I knew even then that I was being unfair.
But they’re her parents. Shouldn’t they be championing her defense?
“She’s not broken,” I say. “It’s a physical illness, like having eczema.”
“Like what?” Grandpa asks.
“I’m saying that Mom’s not broken.” I glance between him and Grandma. “Saying that is kind of hurtful.”
“You can’t drink either, can you?” Grandma asks. “Are you just like her?”
“Beth’s fine,” Dad says. “She’s like me.”
“Dad.”
“Wait, is your mom an alcoholic?” Jackson asks.
I roll my eyes.
“You guys are more interesting than I thought.”
“I want to see her drink a glass,” Grandpa says. “So I can believe it. That she’s fine.”
“Excuse me?” Dad asks.
Mom stands up. “It’s fine. Beth can do it.”
“No,” Dad says. “She doesn’t need to—”
Jackson hands me a glass of wine. “Here. Just try this to shut them up.” He’s smiling, like this is all really funny.
I should say no. For the first time ever, my dad’s actually defending me. My dad, the guy who never has my back. But my mom said to do it, and I realize she’s tired of them treating her like crap.
And now they’re implying that her alcoholism ruined me, too. That means the only way out for her is for me to show them that I can drink some and not turn into a drunk. I just can’t believe they’re badgering their alcoholic daughter’s daughter to try drinking. Maybe Dad wasn’t totally wrong when he said he was trying to save her from them.
“Beth?” Grandma looks so encouraging. I could almost imagine she’s telling me to put my chin up and walk the stage in my cap and gown.
My dad, on the other hand, looks ready to take a swing at my grandpa. I think about what it must be costing him to sell his family ranch, to move to Seattle, and to work for his father-in-law, basically admitting that his intervention made his beloved wifeworse.
“Beth, you don’t have to—”
My grandpa claps an arm on Dad’s shoulder. “Ease up, Patrick. Geez. Your daughter’s not like her mother. Watch.”
In that moment, I want to show them that I’m not. I want to defend my mother the only way I can think to do it. So I press the glass to my lips and drink it all.
I’m not sure exactly how many drinks are shoved at me, but I drink at least two more glasses of wine before I stop and stand up and shove away from the table. Things are a little hazy, just like the last time I drank.
The night Ethan found me.
