fragile [PREVIEW ONLY]

Chapter 5

By the time Evan got home from school, my mom was still ranting and raving about Zach and his friends.

"How could the school let them get away with this?" She'd ask me. "Maybe I should call their parents, I'm sure they'd be willing to do something."

No. They wouldn't. I know, because I've heard the stories about Zach's parents. They were rich ex-Silicon Valley executives who'd retired from 'real' jobs early to pursue side projects. For his dad, that apparently meant a speaking career and as many one-night stands he could muster, while Zach's mom focused on bringing her inner Eat, Pray, Love out thanks to yoga and extensive trips abroad.

They couldn't care less about their son. Not that I blame them, because I couldn't care less about him either. Today, however, was unfortunate because today he just...well...he pissed me off. You know how some days you feel like you're teetering on the edge of doing something stupid for no good reason? That was me. Today. Except I went over the edge, and now my mom's on a rampage and the target Zach put on my back probably just grew tenfold.

Mom, please, I signed to her during a pause in her monologue about the evils of the school administration. I graduate this year. I'm almost 18, and I'm going to college. It will all be over then, so can we let it die? Please?

She stared back at me like I'd just grown a second head or said something in Chinese. I mean, technically - yes - I am speaking a second language, but it's been nearly two decades. I know she got my drift.

Standing abruptly, my mom exited the living room and went straight toward the kitchen. Toward a bottle of wine, if I wasn't mistaken. And I wasn't. A few seconds later she re-emerged gripping her trusty companion Will the Wineglass, as I named him, and stared at me while she gulped down the contents. Ever since my parents started fighting - even before my dad moved out - she always claimed that wine was simply something she enjoyed, a way to take the edge off. She didn't need it, she promised, but she liked it and it's 'heart-healthy'. And 'isn't it better for me to enjoy a glass or two of wine a night rather than smoke a pack a day?'

A glass or two turned into a bottle per night, until her doctor prescribed her Xanax and warned about the potential dangers of combining it with alcohol. She backed off initially, but soon the Xanax wasn't enough. A glass once or twice a week wouldn't hurt, she told us a month after my dad left.

That was a year and a half ago. Now we're almost back to a bottle a night.

I escaped to my room the second my mom pulled out Will, and I silently apologized to Evan for leaving him alone with her tonight. Typically, I tried my best to shelter him from our mom's moods. I wanted him to have a normal childhood, normal teen years, so I painted mom as an eccentric - someone damaged yet completely lovable - but I knew he could see through the veil. She was a trainwreck. A ticking bomb waiting to go off.

Luckily, she slept til noon most days - meaning she was sober enough by the time we got home from school to seem like your normal - loving parent, but I knew it was just a matter of time before that façade cracks too.

Hopefully, I can make it through college before that happens. I already feel guilty thinking about going across the country for school as it is. I don't want to leave Evan here alone, but Columbia University has always been my dream. I'll feel horrible if I go, sure, but what about if I stay? Evan and I have talked about it, and he wants me to go. He always tells me that I deserve a chance to find myself.

Funny how wise a twelve-year-old can be when he wants to be. (Keyword: wants.)

I'd already opened my computer and gotten halfway through an episode of Jessica Jones when my door cracked open. The light from the hallway distorted my screen, so I pushed myself off my stomach and faced the door to see my mom standing there. She didn't have Will with her, and she took a deep breath before crossing the room to perch on the side of my bed.

Reaching over my nightstand, she flicked on a lamp before turning to face me. I could smell the alcohol on her breath, sickly sweet overlaced mixed with the tell-tale aroma of wine, and her eyes are rimmed with red from crying. She was still sniffling - I noticed the slight shake in her shoulders - when she grabbed my hands with both of hers and forced a half-smile.

"I've figured it out," she told me. "I know...I know you don't want me to talk to the school about that boy, and I won't. I promise. As long as he leaves you alone from now on, I'll let it go."

I lifted an eyebrow, as if waiting for the second half of what she came in here to tell me.

"You're right. You are almost eighteen," she said. "That means you're legally an adult, so you can get cochlear implants without your dad's approval."

My hands flew out of hers as I scooted away from her, shaking my head furiously. No, no, a million times no. I never wanted cochlear implants, and I didn't want them now. We've had this conversation over and over again. While I don't agree with my dad's reasoning behind refusing to allow the procedure, I have to admit - I'm glad he did it. I don't want implants, and my mom knows this.

No, Mom, I told her. I don't want them. I'm happy with the way I am now. I like being deaf.

She shook her head, "Oh, sweetie. You don't know what you're saying..."

My hands immediately formed the words 'yes, I do' but she grabbed them before I could protest further.

"Ava," she said slowly, forming the words clearly to make sure I could understand. "The procedure is completely safe, I promise. I know it's scary to think about the surgery, but think of the benefits. To be able to hear again! The whole world will be open to you."

Dropping one of my hands, she ran her left hand down the side of my face, "Just think about it, honey. You don't have to decide right now."

And with that, she left the room. I know I said she was a ticking time bomb, but damn. I didn't expect to be left sitting here with my world in shambles so soon.

Boom.