Unveiling Chaos Part 19

She gave me a small, grateful smile. "Am I scary?" Naomi asked as she batted her eyelashes dramatically, forcing a laugh from me before both our expressions turned somber once more.

"Of course you are. Anyone is scary when you love them. Alara, your mom, me"-her eyes widened slightly but I kept going-"you're scary because you have the power to destroy the people that love you in ways no one else can." Her expression was shocked and I knew why-I had pretty much said I love you without actually saying it. I opened my mouth to correct myself but realized I couldn't. Because I was so close to being in love with her, that denying it would be a lie. So I settled on noncommittal, and breezed right over it.

"Your mom loves you." I shifted closer. "So yeah, you scare her, sweetheart."

Naomi's gaze drifted over my shoulder. "I haven't seen her in so long. I've shut her out at every opportunity."

"So?"

"So..." She trailed off and when she looked back at me, tears were in her eyes. The first I'd ever seen. "What if she doesn't want me? What if I waited too long? What if-"

"What if she misses you? What if every single night she goes to bed praying tomorrow will be the day you call?" I shrugged. "All you'll have is what ifs unless you talk to her."

She took a deep breath and reined in her tears. And a couple of blinks later, it was like they'd never existed at all. "You're-" She stopped and pursed her lips before her eyes wandered over my face and she smirked. "Okay, yes, that makes sense."

I smiled. "What were you gonna say, sweetheart?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah?" I laughed as I pulled her even closer. "Because it seemed to me you were going to say you're right."

Her smile widened. "Never."

I raised my fist.

I lowered it.

I raised my fist once more.

I lowered it once more.

On the fifth raise, I quickly shoved it forward and pounded out three quick knocks before I could lower it again. Megan's words from two nights ago and Damien's words from yesterday, along with everything Derek had ever said, were all on a constant loop in my head. I only made it through one cla.s.s today before I ditched the rest and came to the address Derek had given me a while back, "just in case."

I held my breath until the door opened a minute later and my mother stood in the threshold. Her mouth formed an "O" and her eyes widened in surprise as she looked me up and down. I did the same. She was wearing cut-off jean shorts and a plain fitted T-shirt. Her hair was washed and her skin looked radiant.

"N-Naomi?"

I cleared my throat, uncharacteristically nervous. "Hi."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, still dumbfounded and unmoving. I ignored her question and examined her more closely. No pin-size pupils. No bags under her eyes or scabs on her forearms. No needle marks. Nothing.

"Are you..." I trailed off and cleared my throat again before finishing. "Are you really clean?" I asked in disbelief.

Her smile widened and pride lit up her face. "Yes, Naomi. I've been clean for eight months." My mom's smile slowly dimmed as I stood there motionless, not giving anything away. I felt everything: joy, sadness, anger, fear, disbelief. Everything.

I crossed my arms and settled on one: disbelief. It seemed too good to be true. That I could be getting her back after everything. "Really?"

She bowed her head until I couldn't see her eyes. When she looked back up they were red-rimmed and there were tears streaming down her face. "I know it's hard for you to believe. But I am. You can check." She held out her arms for a moment before lifting one hand and pointing it over her shoulder. "Or you can search the house. You always could find my hiding spots." My mom's lips lifted in an affectionate smile, like we were reliving the good old days.

Hey, remember when I found you pa.s.sed out in your own puke?

Remember when you asked me to tie off the stocking so you could shoot up?

Remember when I came home to drug dealers looting our house for the money you owed them?

Those were great times.

My fists tightened at my side. "Yeah, I had to be since my mom was a junkie."

Her expression completely fell and the tears came harder. I tried to ignore my guilt as one hand rested on her heaving stomach and the other covered her mouth to contain her sobs.

Closing my eyes, I took five deep breaths before opening my mouth. "I'm sor-"

"What the h.e.l.l?" The man's voice was harsh and loud, and my eyes snapped open. His eyes were blazing with pure rage as he looked me over like my mom had. But instead of concern and admiration, I saw disgust and something close to hatred.

"Who the f.u.c.k are you?" he barked. I flinched and took a step back. Shaking my head, I scolded myself as the guy who was most likely her supplier continued to glare. I knew she was still using. I knew- "Mark, stop." My mom's hand rested gently on his arm, and when his eyes swung to hers they softened considerably. Shifting his whole body toward her, he brought his hands up to cup her cheeks and started wiping her tears away.

"You okay, Jules?" After a quick jerk of her head, Mark leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose before pulling back and wrapping an arm around her. They were both facing me now. His eyes were only slightly less murderous and my mom's were only mildly pink instead of bright red.

She cleared her throat as she squeezed the hand on her shoulder. "Mark, this is my daughter, Naomi." His eyes widened and when he looked at me again, there was understanding and sorrow in his eyes. "And Naomi, this is my boyfriend, Mark. I've been seeing him for about a year."

Mark's arm unwound from her neck and he held out his hand. "Sorry about before, I just... I don't like seeing her upset." He jerked his head in my mom's direction as his hand hovered in the air. I hesitated for only a moment before I shook it.

"It's okay. I shouldn't have-"

"No, you have every right to feel the way you do," my mom interjected.

Come. That was how I was going to finish that sentence, but my mother a.s.sumed I was apologizing for my words. I gave her a tight smile, not admitting it one way or another. We all stood around awkwardly for a minute or two before my mom clapped and threw on a bright smile. "Do you want to come in? I could make us some dinner? Or we could just talk, I have-"

I held up my hands to halt her words. "I think I should probably leave." My mom's smile dropped but she tried so hard to look like she was fine. It was painful and honestly useless, like watching a candle trying to illuminate a large dark room. It flickered and fought to be seen, but ultimately it only provided enough light to show a little bit of what the dark was hiding. Only enough light to show the pain.

"Of course. I understand." Her voice was just as painful and I couldn't stand there a second longer. "Maybe, we could-" she tried once more, but I was already walking backward.

"I'll call you. See ya." I waved once before quickly bolting down the stairs. But I didn't move fast enough. As I leapt off the last step, I heard the cries of a woman on the verge of breaking.

And to my shame, I kept walking.

I brought the pencil to the paper, making slow and even strokes as I sketched her hair fanning out from her face. My black-and-white portrait was almost complete, and I lost my breath every time I looked at it. Naomi was beautiful. In every form. Whether she was standing in front of me, staring back at me from a picture on my phone, or coming to life as I drew her, she was always beautiful. And she was mine.

Interrupting my thoughts, three quick knocks sounded from the front door. I was halfway there when more knocks rattled the frame. Frowning, I picked up the pace. It was late Tuesday afternoon, one of my days off. Ellie was having lunch with an old friend, one of her few clean and sober friends that she had lost touch with when she started drinking, Grayson was working, and Naomi had cla.s.s, so I had no clue who it could be.

I had just opened the door when Naomi lifted her fist once more. She looked terrible. Nowhere near the bright, happy, smiling girl I'd left on my drawing table.

"Are you okay? What happened?" I gently gripped her shoulders and appraised her for any physical harm. Naomi brought her hands up to rest on mine and gave them a squeeze.

"Hi," she responded softly. "I'm fine." She tried to sound rea.s.suring, but the catch in her voice pretty much did the opposite.

"You don't sound fine, sweetheart."

She nodded before shuffling forward and falling against my chest. I easily caught her, wrapping my arms around her and leading us into the apartment. I sat her down on the couch before backtracking to close and lock the door. When I rejoined her she was leaning back and her eyes were closed. Brushing some of her hair out of the way, I placed a soft kiss on her temple.

"Talk to me," I whispered in her ear. I felt her shudder before her eyes fluttered open and she focused on me.

"I went to see my mom."

I froze. Even though the answer was obvious, given her state, I still asked, "How'd it go?"

She shrugged. "When I talk to you or Derek or Alara, I think maybe I can forgive her. But when I got there, when I saw her... all the anger just rushed back. I'm not like you and Derek. I don't know how to forget it all." I could feel her frustration as she tried to explain everything she was feeling. Her hair tickled my chin as she turned her head and placed a soft kiss over my heart.

"Maybe just start by getting to know her. You'll never be able to see past the bad if you don't allow yourself to see the good." I paused. "Why do you suppose it's different with Ellie?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have no problem talking to her. You came over to give her a job. You took her to her doctor's appointment. h.e.l.l, you're knitting her a baby blanket. Yeah, I saw that, sweetheart," I finished as I affectionately squeezed her hip. "But my point is... you're doing all these things for Ellie, acting like her addiction doesn't exist. Like it has no bearing on who she is. Why can't you do that with your mother?"

She lifted her head and twisted so she was fully facing me. "It's different. You don't know the things my mom did. The way she let us down, the-"

"You think Ellie's never f.u.c.ked up? You think she never disappointed me or p.i.s.sed me off? You think she never stole from me? Or never put herself or me in physical danger because I had to go drag her off of whatever sc.u.mbag's floor she was pa.s.sed out on that week? You think-?"

"Okay, I get it."

"No, you don't." I softened my voice. "She'll always be an addict. And, unfortunately, addiction is a family disease. It's never going to go away just because you ignore it. And it's never going to hurt less."

"How do you live with it?"

I smiled and pulled her into my lap. "I look at all the ways Ellie makes my life better, not the single way she makes it difficult."

Naomi seemed exhausted as she nodded and rested her cheek against my chest.

"Tell me something good," I said after a couple of minutes.

"Good?" she questioned as she lifted her head.

"Yeah, sweetheart. Something positive you remember about your mom."

She paused and licked her lips as she thought it over. "When I was younger, before she started using heavily, she would throw these amazing birthday parties for me. Like completely crazy, over the top." Naomi shrugged and a small smile graced her lips. "That's just how she was, crazy and over the top."

"Like mother, like daughter." My girlfriend's eyes jumped to mine and widened slightly. She started shaking her head, wanting to deny it but unable to. "Tell me more," I urged softly.

And she did. She told me a lot of wonderful things about her mother. She told me about multiple "epic" birthday parties, she told me about her mom making her elaborate Halloween costumes, about the projects she helped her with, and all the thoughtful gifts she gave her. And despite knowing her struggles and seeing the pain on Naomi's face whenever she talked about her mother's addiction, I couldn't help but be envious. How nice it must have been to have a mother, or any parent, care about you that much and take care of you with such attention. I didn't say this to Naomi because I knew the response I'd get. But I would take it. I'd take her caring, dedicated, drug-addicted mother over my cold, heartless, clean mother any day.

We'd moved around and were now lying on the couch, facing one another. My arms were wrapped tightly around her, and she was tracing her fingers from my shoulder to wrist.

"One day," she began softly, her eyes focused on me. "My mom pulled me out of school earlier. At first, I panicked, thinking something was wrong. I think I was about twelve. I'd just started to understand what having an addiction meant. But that wasn't why she was there." I stayed quiet until she was ready to go on. "She wanted to have a mother-daughter day. We went ice skating, saw a movie, had lunch-I remembered feeling so large. I felt so grown-up and that entire day I followed everything she did. I ordered the same thing at lunch, I repeated everything she said, I wanted to be just like her. She was... she was my hero." Naomi's sad eyes were still locked on mine. Her heart was breaking, even if she couldn't feel it yet. "I know what everyone thinks."

My brows furrowed. "What do they think?"

"That I'm heartless. That I don't care."

"I don't think that, sweetheart."

She gave me a sad smile. "It's a horrible thing. Not to be able to trust your own mother. It hurts... it hurts me to admit I don't trust her. I wish I could, but how can I after everything?"

"I understand that. But you'll also never know the truth if you keep pushing her away. I'll stand by you, whatever you decide, but I think it will do you good if you reach out to her. Don't you want to stop being angry? Don't you want it to stop hurting?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"Try thinking about it this way... think of one thing you absolutely love having. One thing you don't think you can live without." She was already shaking her head and opening her mouth. "Please, just do it," I interrupted before she could.

"My friends."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Could you give them up?"

"It's not the same thing."

"No, it's not. Having friends isn't harmful, it doesn't cause you to steal, lie, cheat, hurt people-"

"Exactly," she said with a proud nod.

I kissed her softly on the head. "But there's also no one telling you to give them up."

"But she should give it up. You just said so. Having friends is not the same thing, it doesn't hurt anybody. Hers does. There's no positive thing she gets from it. End of story." Naomi made a slashing movement through the air.

"I agree."

She made a frustrated grunt. "Then why are we having this conversation?"

"Because despite all that, you never told me you could give them up." Frowning, she tried to speak again but I cut her off. "I'm not talking about shoulds and should nots anymore. I'm talking about the physical ability to give up something you love, and I'm asking you to imagine how hard it must be for your mom. That's what I do with Ellie. And I'm not condoning it, not one d.a.m.n bit. Do I get frustrated? Absolutely. I get angry, sad, scared, and everything in between. I feel everything you do. I just try to make my empathy matter more. At the end of the day, it has to."

Naomi worried her bottom lip. "And if she screws up again?"

"Then you can rest a.s.sured that her body wasn't taken over by aliens or robots, because she's still human."

She gave me a light laugh but it quickly dropped into a look of fear. "I'm scared."

"Good." I smiled and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "Then you're still human, too."

The next morning I left Naomi lying in bed and went to meet Grayson for breakfast. It shocked me to realize how we spent more time talking about random things than we did talking about Ellie. We had become friends, it wasn't a lie anymore. And much to my dismay, apparently he and Ellie had as well.

After we placed our orders, Grayson checked his phone, even though he had it sitting faceup on the table and no kind of signal had come through. He set it back down, carefully poking at it until it was even with everything else on his side of the table.

"Grayson."

"Yes?" He looked straight into my eyes and, like usual, I had no idea what he was thinking. And I didn't know if it was because he was a cop or because of who he was as a person, but he was the hardest d.a.m.n person to read.

"Does she know who you are? Why you're in our lives?"