Loving You Differently

Seventeen

Aria Adkins

When I wake up bright and early Friday morning for my shift at RJ's, I realize that mom never came home. Dressed and cradling a cup of coffee, I sit at the kitchen table as Savannah flounders around, getting ready for school. I pointedly ignore the curious and semi-worried glances she throws my way, and usher her out the front door before she can ask a question that I don't have the answer to.

When the clock strikes 8, I begrudgingly empty my mug, grab my purse, and leave the front door unlocked, just on the off chance that she wanders in while I'm gone.

I push all thoughts aside and throw myself into my work to keep busy. I spend my eight hour shift at the diner serving tables, collecting tips, and entertaining Sidney's idea to plan for a stake-out, that apparently, she was one hundred percent serious about. I ignore her curious glances too, and when she asks if something is bothering me, I muster up a shrug and an excuse about being tired.

Which, ultimately, isn't really an excuse. I'm tired of chasing after my mother. Tired of watching her drink herself to death.

But who else is going to chase after her?

When I step inside the still unlocked house in the late evening, only to find it as quiet as I left it, I heave an annoyed sigh and text Austin that I won't be able to make it for my shift at Vice tonight.

Mom is officially missing. Again.

I should've known she would be; I mean, to an extent, I can't exactly blame her. Learning that your ex-husband, who you're still legally married to, is suddenly sober and a soon-to-be father is a huge blow to the temple.

It just sucks that I still have to drop everything and look for her. While pacing the kitchen and scrounging up possible places she might be hiding out at, I briefly wonder if she'd drop everything do the same for me if our roles were reversed.

Probably not. I don't know if that makes me a fool or not.

I change out of my uniform, throw on an oversized sweatshirt, and call a cab. Twenty minutes later, I leave a note and a $20 bill on the kitchen counter for Savannah, instructing her to order a pizza for dinner after her shift and to lock the front door if I'm not home before she goes to sleep.

Austin's phone call comes when I'm sitting in the backseat of the cab, an old school rap song blaring through the speakers. Pushing the guilt aside, I ignore it.

I want to answer it, but I know that if I do, he'll leave Vice and come to my aid. Again. While I'm thankful for the genuine care he showers me with, I know that this is something I need to do on my own.

My heart is in my throat when the cab comes to a stop in front of Aunt Dina's trailer. This time, the lights are on, and three other vehicles sit in her gravel driveway. Right away, I know that mom is somewhere inside.

Loud music blares from the other side of the front door. I raise my fist and knock. I don't expect anyone to hear me over the vulgar rap music, but to my surprise, a figure peeps out from behind the sheet that covers the tiny window in the door. Seconds later, the music comes to a complete stop, and the silence is louder than the stereo was.

The sound of the deadbolt being unlocked resembles a gunshot in an empty forest, with crickets chirping vaguely in the distance. Dina flings the door open and I take a step back when I get a good look at her.