Loving You Differently

Three

A/N: graphic details regarding drug abuse mentioned in this chapter. might not be suitable for some.

Aria Adkins

"What do you mean she's gone?!" I screech.

Savannah wrings her hands together and shifts nervously, refusing to meet my eyes. When she doesn't answer I slam my palm down onto the sticky restaurant countertop.

She flinches, takes a deep breath, and says, "She's gone, Aria. Mom didn't come home last night."

I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. "She's not a goddamn dog, Sav. Have you tried calling Dina?"

"Obviously! I've called her a dozen times and she never answered, so I came here," she retorts, gesturing to the booths around her.

"Oh my god." I mutter. This cannot be happening.

Wait, let me rephrase that. This cannot be happening again.

I step away from the counter, begin untying my apron, and look around for RJ. Sidney notices and tips her chin towards the direction of his office. I tell Savannah to call a cab for us and then set off to inform my boss about my current family emergency.

Not only did I clock in late for my shift today, (thank you alarm clock and emotional exhaustion), but now I have to leave two hours early because Savannah came bustling through the front doors, backpack still slung across her shoulder, to inform me that our mother is missing.

Which honestly isn't unusual for her, but still. It's unsettling knowing that she's on another bender while we have absolutely no clue where she is or what she's doing.

Not to mention the fact that I feel somewhat guilty for not knowing she was even missing in the first place. In my defense, I assumed she was sleeping. I was exhausted after my afternoon job search yesterday (still no luck, by the way), and I crashed as soon as I got home.

Life feels like a blur lately and no matter how hard I try, I just can't keep up.

RJ takes pity on my situation and allows me to leave early. I agree to pick up an extra shift, which honestly I'm not complaining about, and after clocking out and grabbing my purse, Savannah and I step outside of the diner and wait on the corner for our cab.

The September air is stifling and the blazing sun warms my scalp and back as we wait. Savannah fidgets nervously with the strap of her backpack and blurts, "I'm sorry."

I rear my head back and shoot her a confused look. "For what? Mom does this all the time. It's not your fault, and I'm sorry if the way I acted made you think it was. It's all just so frustrating and stressful."

Sav shakes her head, "No, I know. I just.. I know that it's stressful for you. And I didn't want you to have to leave work and track her down. I'm sorry for the way mom acts towards you. I'm sorry that you have to deal with her shit... with everyone's shit. I'm just sorry."

I swallow harshly at her proclamation and throw my arm across her shoulders, "That's just the way it is. It sucks. But I'm used to it."

She opens her mouth to respond, but the screeching sound of tires cuts her off. I lead us to the cab, shuffle her inside, and give the driver Aunt Dina's address.