Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
I can’t be confrontational, and I’m not going to speak to her in any kind of way that could start an argument. This is what Jameson and I have discussed and what we think is the best approach to getting her to agree to at least trying rehab.
But if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t think any of it’s going to work.
I think my mom is going to be her same stubborn self, and she’s just going to ignore what I have to say. She might even curse me out and tell me to get the hell out of the house, then go back to the store and get herself some more booze to drink and end up passed out before the sun’s even gone down.
I stare out the car window at the house, doing my best to remain calm.
Focus on your breathing, Iris. What’s the worst that could happen?
I feel Jameson’s hand on my thigh and look over at his face, smiling and encouraging. He gives me a nod, and a warm feeling fills me inside. I look into the back seat to see Eliza there, looking at me like “Don’t worry, we got this. Don’t worry, bitch,” and I feel my confidence rising.
No one should have to go through something like this with a parent, but I can’t let myself fall into a hopeless well of self-pity right now. If I do that, there’s no way I’ll ever end up being able to do what needs to be done.
“Don’t worry, Iris,” Eliza says. “We’ll drag her there by the hair if we have to.”
A single laugh humps out of my chest.
“We’re both here for you,” Jameson adds with another squeeze on my leg. It’s such a nice feeling to have both of them with me for this.
As I stare at the house, all I can think about are the many times I came home from school to my mom passed out on the couch or all the times I had to make dinner for myself because she wasn’t able to finish cooking the meal because she couldn’t handle things in the kitchen or simply couldn’t stand up on her own. Or the times I had to go to the store to pick up the groceries, or how before bed I always had to go around every room and make sure she hadn’t left any candles burning for fear that she might accidentally set something on fire.
All the money I made at my job at the supermarket went straight to supporting “the family.” I was never able to buy myself anything new. I told all the kids at school that I shopped at second-hand stores because I loved vintage clothing, when in reality I just couldn’t afford to buy anything new because I’d spent all the money I’d made on food or maintaining the house. And then what was left was just straight-up stolen by my mom to support her habit.
And then of course there were the nights when she’d drink way too much and go off on one of her rants about men and how awful they were—about how my father never really loved her and how terrible he really was. Once she even told me that if he ever came back and she wasn’t home, that I needed to call 9-1-1 immediately because he had probably come back to either kidnap me or kill me.
I can’t even begin to know what kind of damage that did to me. Maybe that’s where me becoming a “manhater” began, as Eliza would say.
But was she really right about that? Or was I just afraid of being abandoned again? Who really knows? And do I really care at this point? I love Jameson, and that’s all that matters.
“It’ll be okay,” Eliza says, touching my shoulder.
“I feel bad,” I sigh. “Putting you both through this with me.”
“Don’t be silly,” Jameson replies instantly. Eliza shakes her head and gives me a little push at the same time.
“Exactly. Don’t be stupid. We’re both here for you. Just like I know you’ll be here for me when Josh tries to fire me for being too sexy and getting all the other girls jealous and pissed off.”
I’m so glad Eliza’s here with me. I have to laugh.
“Come on, we know you won’t be working at Jaguars that much longer,” I reply. “You’ll be opening your hair salon in no time.”
“You want to open a hair salon?” Jameson asks. “Cause I could use someone who knows how to cut hair up here.”
“Oh, Eliza’s the best,” I reply. “She’ll hook you right up.”
For the first time in my life, when I look back at Eliza, I actually see her blushing. She shakes her head and waves a hand in the air. “Stop, stop, stop. This isn’t about me right now. This is about Iris. Come on, girl. Let’s go get this done. You ready?”