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I didn't get home that evening until almost midnight. Of course, when I did get home, I got to jump straight back into the drama because my dad was waiting up for me. It was a Friday, so it wasn't unheard for for a 17 year old girl to be getting back this late, but then again, I wasn't just any 17 year old girl. I happened to be a pretty lame one that didn't have a social life.
"I texted you," Dad said as I walked in the door.
"I know," I replied. "I told you I was alive and well and that I'd be home soon."
"SO who is he?"
"What makes you say that?" I replied, my skin flushing hard.
"Well, your face is about three shades of red right now, so I know it's a guy. Good for you," Dad said, with a smile on his face. He was happy to see me happy, and then his expression changed and he shot me a serious look. "Your mom is gone."
"What do you mean gone?" I asked.
"Well, the Sheriff came today and served her divorce papers. She flipped out, barricaded herself in her room, and refused to take them. When the sheriff was able to get into the room, she was collapsed on the floor. She took a handful of medications. She's on life support," my dad told me, getting pretty emotional about it. "I'm sorry, Adina. I didn't think she would react this way. I just wanted to get you and get out."
My dad sat there with his face buried in his hands and he started to sob. After all the years of emotional torment my mother has inflicted on him, he was blaming himself for her latest mistake.
"Dad, this isn't your fault. You didn't shove the pills down her throat. You didn't make her take them," I told him, trying to comfort him.
He started to sob harder. "I was being selfish. I wanted out. I didn't want to be married to a drug addict anymore. I was so happy that the papers were coming today," he choked.
"Dad, you can't blame yourself. Have you called anyone?" I asked.
"Just Uncle Terry. He called everyone for me. They'll all be here in the morning before I have to go to the hospital for an update."
I sat on the couch in shock at what my dad was telling me. There were so many times that I wished my mother would just die - the time that she took the jewelry my Gram gave to my dad to pass down to me and pawned it, the time she emptied my savings account to pay for her drugs, or the time she tried to enroll me in public school so she could snort the tuition money up her nose instead. I don't ever recall one time my mother put me before herself all of my life. I spent huge chunks of my life at my grandparent's house and with my Uncle Terry because she was in rehab again or otherwise checked out and my dad had to work and couldn't be home to care for me. My mom never once met me at the bus stop as a kid that I could remember, never helped me with my homework, and never went to any of my games when I tried sports.
And still, I didn't know how to feel. My hands started shaking; even after all the years of her being the shittiest mother on the face of the earth, I didn't want her to die.
"What have the doctors told you so far?" I asked, not knowing if I really wanted to know the answer.
"They told me that the chances of her pulling through are very small, and not to get my hopes up. They ran tests and said that in her system was a high-dose of Oxycontin and that even if she does survive, her liver is severely damaged and that she will need a transplant to live longterm," he sobbed.
"I'm so sorry, dad. I'm sorry," I said, still in shock. I walked over to the recliner my dad was sitting in and gave him a long hug. After he released me, he started to compose himself again.
"I'm sorry, Adina. I didn't mean to take your mother away from you."
"She wasn't much of a mother, dad," I stated.
As cold as it sounded out loud, it was the truth.
Where do you want to see Adina go next? Let me know in the comments.
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