Page 33 of The Devils They Are
My foot taps thoughtfully. "I came home sick today," I admit quietly. "I told them I had the stomach flu."
Mom frowns in concern. "Are you actually sick?"
"No," I laugh, feeling a touch nervous at admitting my little white lie. "Just pissed some of the Willowbrook boys off and wanted to make sure I made it home for dinner. But anyway, how about I skip school tomorrow and we have a whole day together? Think about it—manis, pedis, bread sticks."
I half expect her to say no, that I have to attend school. But she beams at me. "Let's do it! I just have to go to the doctor's office in the morning for my follow up SSI physical, but you can come with me."
Spinning around, I forget about the potatoes. "Really?" I ask, heart pounding in excitement. "You wanna do it?"
It's been so long since I've seen her like this—happy, aware…alive.
I don't want to waste an opportunity. The good days are scarce, and right now, I have the chance to spend time with her before her demons pull her back into the abyss.
"I do, Bexie," she murmurs with a smile. "Tomorrow—it's just us."
"Just us," I repeat, skipping across the kitchen to pull her into a hug. "It's a date."
Just us. Plus, Doctor Lavings.
The aging man in his fifties looks just as pleasantly surprised to see Mom in her current state as I was. He gave us both a warm smile as he ushered us into his clinical room the next morning.
I wait in front of the curtain as Mom changes into a dressing gown, making small talk with the man. We joke about the weather, the release of new music that we both like, and finally, about Mom's improvement today when she emerges in the grayish gown with red socks.
"Alright, Savanna. You know the drill—I'll check your blood pressure, heart rate, breathing rate. Then, we'll have a discussion about your current overall health and touch on how you feel. You'll also need to fulfill a pathology request so we can check your bloodwork. But I have to say, I'm loving this improvement today."
Mom looks at me, beaming with pride, and I can't help but share it back at her.
After the last two weeks with Willowbrook, putting those assholes in their place and seeing Mom like this, really made it all worth it.
Last night, it was all over social media—and I don't just mean the Cedar Heights pages.
The Youtube video had skyrocketed in views before it had finally been shut down. But copies of the video appeared all over Facebook and Instagram, with students front and center at the table—thetea table, that is.
Steamy, hot tea in the form of three Willowbrook legends, who were meeting their downfall.
How do I know it's a downfall in progress?
Comments.
Behind screens, people aren't afraid to say what they feel. Keyboard warriors were out in full force, suddenly questioning their so-called leaders. Many were disappointed that 'a lowlife from Cedar Heights' had managed to get the upper hand on all three of them.
Others were amused, talking about how they had it coming. Many were also angry, siding with their friends and swearing vengeance on me—but whatever. Bring it on.
But the more news got around, sharing not only our encounter in the courtyard, but Hunter's ass-accessory, Rylan's new booty strut, and Tai's alleged love of dick, people were concerned. They were scared. And suddenly, there was a feeling of trepidation looming in the air at Willowbrook.
Not that I know anything about it. I'm here, enjoying my day off.
Arch's updates have been entertaining, and I fully intend to dive more into them later. But for now, I'm focused on this moment with my mom.
"Uh-huh," the doctor mutters to himself, shining a pen light in her face. "I just want to check your liver enzymes which will be included in the blood panel. You have a little bit of jaundice, but I assume you've still been consuming alcohol. It's probably nothing, but I'd just like to be sure."
Mom hangs her head down, shame written across her face. "I want to give it up," she whispers. "I haven't touched a drink since Monday."
"That's fantastic," the doctor rejoices. "Well, let's see what the bloodwork returns, and we can discuss next steps. I know you've mentioned previously you'd like to return to work at some stage."
"I do miss my design work," she nods.
Before Mom became a victim of Dad's spiral, she designed wedding dressings—well, the sketches, anyway. She was such a sucker for love that she fell hard into the wedding industry, determined to make brides feel as beautiful on their wedding day as she had done. But when he left, love was nothing more than a wasteful emotion that she disregarded. Except, that's the problem with love. You can't stop it, and you certainly can't just turn off the feelings of heartbreak—unless you numb them.
