Page 57 of Call You Mine
But my mind goes black.
Then, just as the doors close, Georgie whispers, “That place hasn’t felt like home since my dad died.”
CHAPTER 17
AVA
Patricia walksout the front door of my mom’s house just as I load the last of the six garbage bags into my car, the backseat and trunk filled to the absolute brim with everything that belongs to my little sister.
All her stuff—reduced to garbage by her own mother.
Slamming the doors closed, I lean back against the back bumper, running my hands through my curls as I blow out a breath, the air is cold enough that I can see it cloud before it disappears.
Pulling my phone out from my jacket pocket, I check the time and see a text from Georgie saying Anderson is dropping her off now. I breathe a sigh of relief knowing she got home safe, that she wasn’t waiting outside at school for hours, wondering where I was. I send her a quick reply before sliding my phone back into my pocket.
“Your mom is still insisting on talking to you before you leave,” Patricia says, leaning back against the car with me.
I tap my foot against the ground under my sneakers, counting each time I feel the bottom of my shoe meet the concrete.
One.
Two.
Three.
“But I don’t see a reason for you to,” she adds.
Nine.
Ten.
Eleven.
“I’m happy to pass on what she discussed with me, Ava.”
Fifteen.
Sixteen.
Seventeen.
“Sure,” I say on an exhale, distracted, even though Patricia’s words start to sound less jumbled and contorted, like she was talking to me while I was underwater, and I’ve finally come up for air.
She must sense it because she puts a hand on my shoulder, and it steadies me a little more. “I’m glad you called me, and that you’ve set this boundary with your mother. I’m more than happy to be the one who communicates with her for both you and Georgina.”
Patricia’s presence was intimidating the first time I met her, but right now, it’s comforting—having someone here to stand between my mom and me.
It’s something I’ve never had before.
“I can’t believe she’d do this to Georgie,” I say, shaking my head. I feel my throat constrict, and the back of my eyes prickle in frustration. “I should’ve known this would happen.” I feel tears well in my eyes, but I quickly blink them away. “She was supposed to be better for her.”
“Ava, sweetheart. Your mom is sick, and from what you’ve shared with me this last week, she’s been sick for a long time.” Patricia’s warm voice soothes some of my anxiety. She’s been so kind throughout this entire process.
I’ve heard from her at least once a day, if not more, since her initial visit to my apartment on Sunday. Since then, she’s been assessing how my mother’s drinking impacted herability to parent Georgie. Her initial visit to my mom’s earlier this week ended with her deeming her unfit and her home unsafe. The level of alcohol use, the lack of food in the home, and Georgie’s teacher’s report all indicated ongoing neglect.
My mom was wasted during the visit, for fuck’s sake.
Patricia has also been in communication with Callie since she made the initial report, and she's also spoken with Georgie’s other teachers—turns out, they all noticed a difference in Georgie’s behavior and weren’t surprised to hear about the current investigation into my mom.
