Page 15 of Call You Mine
I think Cosmo is sad and frustrated about being at his new school. I relate to Cosmo because he feels alone and like he can’t talk to anyone after his mom left him on Earth. I know what it feels like to have no one.
“When did she write this?” My voice is just above a whisper, the guilt and shame heavy in the words—knowing Georgie was feeling like this, and I had no idea. It’s like someone is pressing their foot down on my throat, cutting off my ability to breathe.
“It was the first assignment students completed when we returned from Winter Break.”
“She turned this in over a month ago?” I snap, the tone sharp. Here I am thinking Georgie was keeping everything to herself, but this is a clear cry for help, and her teacher didn’t do anything?
“I can understand your frustration, Ava, butI reached out to your mom a few times in the last few weeks. I haven’t heard anything back.” Callie reaches for Georgie’s assignment, putting it back on the bottom of the basket, under all the other papers. “Georgie has also been meeting with our school’s guidance counselor, but she hasn’t opened up about what she meant in this assignment. Given that you’re not a point of contact for a situation such as this, I have to admit I was relieved when I found out you were coming by today. I was hoping you could offer me some insight as to how I can best support her.”
Callie’s calm demeanor has me regretting snapping at her. I’m not mad at her; she’s done nothing wrong. If anything, she’s done more than enough—trying to reach out to Mom.
My mother is who I’m mad at, who I should be yelling at, demanding answers from.
With last night being the first time I heard of her drinking again, I assumed it was an isolated incident. Like the one last year.
But maybe not.
I inhale shakily before blowing the air out of my mouth. “Our mom is an alcoholic.”
Saying the words out loud is a painful catharsis. It hurts to say them, and I truly don’t know if I’ve ever said them to anyone before—my sisters and I have always talked around it, avoiding the label because that would make it real. Same with my therapist. The word itself has been this elephant in the room for as long as I can remember.
Until now.
But there’s also an ounce of relief, like when I allow myself to fall into a compulsion. There’s a moment where the tension releases—like a breath of fresh air, like a night wrapped up in the sheets of someone who knows exactly how to get me out of my head—before the tension wrings taut again.
Callie nods her head, not saying anything, so I continue. “She’s been sober for all of Georgie’s life, and I thought herrelapse last year was a one-time thing, since Georgie’s dad had just died.”
“Yes, I was so sorry to hear about her dad’s accident. That couldn’t have been easy for any of you,” Callie says, reaching to place a hand on my forearm.
The sympathy in her voice washes over me, and I realize that I can’t remember the last time I grieved my own stepfather, or if I ever have.
“Thank you,” I say quickly, suddenly uncomfortable with the way she looks at me and the concern she’s showing me. We should be focusing on my sister. “I got a call from Georgie last night that our mom was drunk. I thought it was another one-off thing, but after seeing that assignment of Georgie’s, I’m not so sure.”
But I’m going to do everything in my power to find out.
“Have you talked to your mom?” Callie asks.
I shake my head. “I left her a note to call me before I left with Georgie last night, but I haven’t heard from her.” That alone should have been my first clue that this wasn’t just a tiny relapse. If she hasn’t noticed Georgie’s gone yet, there’s no way she’s in her right mind.
Probably hasn’t been in a while.
I continue, “So, Georgie will be staying with me for a few days while we figure this out.”
“What about long-term?”
I open my mouth to answer her question, but nothing comes out.
How the fuck do I tell her that I haven’t slowed down since leaving Anderson’s house last night? That I haven’t let myself?
Because if I do, I have to come up with an answer to that question.
“Ava,” Callie starts, but I stand abruptly, cutting her off and surprising both of us.
“Georgie’s waiting for me. I'd better go. I just wanted tomake sure you knew what was going on with her.” I start toward the door, but Callie’s voice stops me.
“Ava, I’m going to have to report this.”
I turn, and a misplaced feeling of betrayal hits me right in the stomach. Logically, I know it’s her job, but I can’t fight the way my brain tells me that I shouldn’t have trusted her with this.
