Protecting You - Complete

Chapter 31 - Christian

As I'd anticipated, Grandma Adele needed little encouragement to host a grill out on Friday night with some of their local friends. If it surprised her that I, usually Mr. Reclusive, was the one to suggest it, she mentioned nothing. She probably knew part of the reason is I wanted to show off my girlfriend.

Thursday during the day, Dad, Elliot, and Gramps went around the property, doing minor maintenance jobs, checking fences, and ensuring the wood store was well stocked for winter. Since I was useless at those things, I stayed behind. Ana was curled up on the sofa editing a minor GEH subsidiary's marketing materials while Mia was with Grams and Mrs. Bridge planning what sides to serve tomorrow and making a shopping list for what they needed to buy. With everyone else occupied, it was the perfect time to talk to Mom.

Wandering the house, I found her in the library curled up on a chaise long, her nose deep in a true-crime novel.

"I don't know how you can read those," I said when she looked up and noticed me. "Surely there's enough bad in the world without having to read about it?"

"A criminal's mind is fascinating," she replied. "At times, incomprehensible, which is what makes it so engaging." Putting down the book, she patted the unoccupied part of the chaise beside her. "What's wrong, Christian?"

I sat, unsurprised Mom knew I had something on my mind. I'd concealed a lot from her over the years—Elena and my practice as a dominant a case in point—but she still had a mother's ability to sense when something was troubling me.

"It's about Mia. I'm worried about her."

"What's going on?"

"I think she drinks too much. I've been monitoring things for a while, and I'm worried she's an alcoholic."

Mom sighed. This didn't seem to be entirely a surprise to her.

"You know how I let her use the owner's suite at The Mile High with her friends? Well, for the last month or so, I've had them report back to me how much she consumes when she is there, and frankly, it's alarming." Mom went to say something, but I held up my hand to continue. "If that were the only time she indulged, I could let it go, but every time I see her, she's drinking. Mimosas, cocktails, wine—she always has a drink in her hand. I have gone over her credit card statement, and there are regular purchases from the Bellevue Wine Shop. Besides her social drinking, she's buying at least one case of wine a week, which I assume she drinks at home. Finally, I have spoken to Gamboa, and he says he can't remember the last day when she hasn't had at least two or three drinks."

Mom nodded, looking weary. "I've had my concerns, too," she admitted. "In fact, that's one reason your father was so determined Mia accompany us on this trip. We wanted to see if she has a problem. From what you're telling me, the answer is clearly yes."

"What do you think we should do about it?" I asked, trying to get a read on how my parents saw things.

"Your father and I aren't on the same page about this. I'd like to talk with her and encourage her to join Alcoholics Anonymous. Your father thinks a rehabilitation program is more appropriate." I nodded, thinking Dad had the right idea.

"Whatever you decide, I'll pay for it. It's partially my fault it's come to this."

"It's not your fault, darling," my mother said, patting my hand with hers. "You and your brother always knew what you wanted to do. Mia's never been that way. Your father and I thought if we gave her a year after high school, she'd find her direction. Well, one year turned into two, then three. I think meeting Ana showed your father and me just how aimless and unfocussed we've allowed Mia to become. Hearing how diligently Ana worked to put herself through college and pursue a career has been eye-opening."