Thirty minutes and four seconds later, my mother waltzes through the automatic doors. Her stilettos clack loudly on the tile floor. I look up from my book to see she's carrying two coffees. She sets one on the desk as she passes by. Darcy reaches up and takes it without looking away from her computer. I shake my head.
"Sorry I'm late," she stops in front of me and exhales a sigh. "Ready to go?"
I cap my pen. "I was ready at noon."
"Well, grab your stuff. Let's go." She turns away, completely ignoring my tone. "Dad and Sawyer are waiting. I have to get dinner started."
She strolls away before I can even put my feet on the floor. She returns to the front desk, engaging in conversation with a nervous-looking Darcy.
My mother is the type of woman people move out of the way for. She holds herself proudly – shoulders back, chin up, eyes filled with determination. I feel sorry for whoever dares to get in her way or on her wrong side. But, unfortunately, I seem to be on that side often.
Her usual black pencil skirt is crisply ironed, and her lilac blouse still looks new. She never leaves the house without full makeup or her hair done. And God forbid she goes without her bi-weekly manicure. She's the definition of immaculate.
She pauses her conversation with Darcy and glances over her shoulder at me. "Waiting on you now."
I stuff my Sudoku book into my backpack and gather my things, consisting of a tiny duffle bag and Sawyer's old backpack. I sling the backpack over my shoulder.
"Okay," I say quietly. "I'm ready for my discharge photo."
Mom looks at her watch. "Avery, we don't have time. We have to get home before rush hour."
Darcy raises her eyebrows. "It'll only take me a moment; the camera is –"
"It's been lovely chatting with you, Darcy, but we've got to run."
Darcy opens her mouth to reply, but my mother walks away, lowering her sunglasses back to her eyes.
When the automatic doors close behind her, I curse under my breath. Darcy shakes her head.
"We can do the photo real quick." She says as she stands.
I shake my head. "No, it's okay." Darcy lowers back into her chair, her eyes holding that look of pity again.
"Well," she sighs. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope I never see you again."
I can't stop my smile. I reach into my bag and pull out my Sudoku book, setting it on the counter. "To remember me by."
Darcy smiles widely and takes the book, tears rimming her eyes. She thumbs through a few pages. Her expression saddens as she skims over the notes I leave myself in the margins and spaces between puzzles. My tiny doodles decorate every page. A sad sigh slips from her lips.
"Please take care of yourself, Avery Parks."
"I will."
I wave goodbye – hopefully for the last time – and walk out of Second Course Recovery.
And back into reality.
~
The car ride home is fourteen minutes of pure hell. And yes, I counted. It was the only thing I could do to stop myself from diving out of the moving car or strangling myself with my seatbelt.
The moment I shut my door, Mom dives right into her regimented speech – the same speech she delivered the first three times I was discharged.
She casually weaves through traffic as she talks.
"Honey, you know Dad, and I are here if you need to talk." I roll my eyes at that. "Doctor Miller has been great for you, but she's not family. We're more than capable of listening."
I shift in my seat, waiting patiently for this pointless conversation to end.
"We thought things were going to be different." She continues. "That's what you said. You were doing great, keeping yourself busy and holding down a job. You even had a plan! Dad and I work hard to afford all these treatments and sessions with Doctor Miller. Insurance doesn't cover it all, you know. It would be nice if you chipped in every once in a while, but we can talk about that later."
I bite my tongue. It's better if I don't say anything.
She sighs heavily. "We thought you would be fine by now. It's been almost five years, and you've barely improved. I don't understand. It's not as if your life is difficult. You've never gone without. Dad and I made sure of that. I might add that you live in a nice, rent–free house and have everything you want. I just don't get it."
I watch the scenery pass, counting the minutes until I can get out of the car and away from her. It's no use trying to explain everything to her. She wouldn't understand. I've tried in the past, and she just brushed it off as me being dramatic. Doctor Miller insists that I must sit my mother down and force her to listen to every word I have to say, but it's easier this way. So she does her thing, and I do mine.
I nearly sigh with relief as we round the corner onto my street. I can see Sawyer's beat-up SUV parked on the street in front of our house. I smile at the Equal Rights sticker on his rear bumper. My smile grows when we pull into the driveway and Sawyer and Dad are waiting on the porch.
Sawyer moves first, bounding down the steps, his arms wide open for a hug. His smile stretches across his stubbly cheeks as he opens my door. I can't help but smile back as my not-so-little little brother envelopes me in a tight hug.
"Hey, big sis," he says softly. "I missed you."
"I'm not so much of a big sister anymore, am I?" I laugh into his shoulder. He steps back, allowing me to see just how tall he is. "Seriously, S, how much did you grow in the last few months?"
He waves my words away and grabs my bags from the back seat.
Before I left, his hair fell into a shaggy mess. Now, it's cut clean and close to his head. The stubble on his chin makes him look so much older than eighteen.
"Oh shit," My eyes widen. "I missed your birthday!"
He shrugs. "Don't worry about it. It was nothing big. Mark and Tim came over, and we just hung out."
I glance to the porch where Mom and Dad murmur to one another. "What about Mom and Dad?"
He shrugs again. "I think Mom was working. And Dad, well, you know him."
I chew my lip.
"Hey," he nudges me as he walks past me toward the house. "No biggie, A. The great thing about birthdays is they come every year."
"True," I follow him up the steps to the porch. "But we'll have to do something to celebrate."
"Just trade bedrooms with me, and we'll call it even."
I give a short laugh. "Yeah, right. That room has the best natural light. There's no way I'm giving it up. Plus, your room doesn't have nearly enough room for my books."
"You don't even touch half those books, Avery," Mom says as she steps inside. "Sawyer could use the space."
I roll my eyes and hug Dad. He squeezes me tightly.
"Good to have you home, Button."
I smile at my childhood nickname. "Good to be home."
We step into the foyer together, Sawyer shutting the door behind us. He continues up the stairs with my bags, mumbling about putting them in my room. Dad pats me on the head and leaves my side to resume his spot on the couch. He settles into his usual sunken cushion and grabs the remote, flipping the channel to a 90s action movie. I can hear Mom rummaging around in the kitchen.
I stand awkwardly in the foyer, unsure what to do in my home.
"Wait," I look around. "Where's Max?"
No one answers me.
I rush to the couch and tap Dad's shoulder until he looks at me. "Max?" I ask again.
"Oh," he clears his throat and readjusts. "We had to put him down a few weeks ago."
"What?!"
My heart takes a nosedive into my stomach. Heavy tears immediately well up in my eyes. "Why? Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Dad glances nervously at the kitchen. "We didn't want to stress you."
I look to the corner by the fireplace. Max's bed is gone. His basket of toys no longer sits on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. I move through the dining room to the kitchen, my eyes searching for his food and water dishes. They're also gone. It's as if he never existed.
Mom rushes around the kitchen, carrying a cutting board and a bundle of carrots. "You know how you get when you're stressed, honey." She tries to reason with me. "You were the only person who could handle Max."
"What happened," I demand.
She hesitates. "He escaped from the yard and bit the Ramsay boy."
"Julian Ramsay?" My face heats with anger.
"Max put him in the hospital with seven stitches. We had no choice but to put him down."
I slam my fist on the kitchen island. "My dog died over Julain Ramsay?! That pompous, little ASSHOLE!" My voice breaks.
"Avery Elizabeth!" Mom shouts back. "He's only ten!"
"Still an asshole!" I throw my hands up in frustration. "He was always torturing Max through the fence. I can't believe no one told me."
Sawyer comes down the back stairs into the kitchen. He settles onto one of the barstools. "Told you what?"
"Oh, nothing, just that our dog died!" I exclaim with a shrug.
"Oh, shit."
"Sawyer Thomas!" Mom scolds.
"You guys didn't tell her?" His eyes bounce back and forth between Mom and me.
"They thought I was too fragile to handle it." I huff. "Max was MY dog! I should've been able to say goodbye!"
Mom sighs. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but what's done is done."
I shake my head in disbelief. I clench and unclench my fists to resist the urge to throw something. But instead, Sawyer gently catches my wrist and pulls me down onto a barstool. He keeps his grip on me as I suppress a groan and bounce my leg.
"Dinner will be ready in half an hour." Mom rhythmically chops vegetables as if they didn't just tell me the dog died. "It's your favorite, Sawyer."
I look at him, my eyes wide. Sawyer's favorite is Sloppy Joe's. Mom knows I can't eat those. I won't eat them.
"I have some fries in the oven too."
I swallow hard. I can't. I can't.
"Mom, I thought we were having something else." Sawyers' knuckles start to turn white.
I can't. I pull against his grip, but he's too strong.
"No, I decided to make this," Mom says calmly. "Avery, can you set the table, please?"
"I can't." I rip my arm out of Sawyer's hand. He reaches for me again, but I jump to my feet, knocking the stool to the floor. Its metal legs clang against the tiles.
"Avery Elizabeth!" Mom gasps, knife suspended above the cutting board. "Fix that stool and set the table."
"I've got it, Mom." Sawyer grabs the stool and sets it back on its feet. His eyes catch mine, and he nods slightly. "Avery, go sit with Dad."
"I . . ." My words fail me. "I'm going to take a shower."
"Don't take too long. This is our first family dinner in a while." Mom turns her back to us to tend to the pan on the stove. "It's going to be delicious."
My body tenses at the smell of the seasoned meat sizzling. Sawyer nods again, and I dash up the stairs to my bedroom.
'I can't' echoes in my head with every step.