Page 57 of Synced to Us

She gives me the standard May Rothlessberger side-eye, but thankfully keeps her thoughts on sibling relationships to herself. She’s had enough emotion tonight, too.

“I’ll see you in the morning, dear.”

“Love you, Ma.”

Ma blows me a kiss before ascending the stairs.

I take note of her every, unsteady step.

* * *

Dee is under the covers by the time I creep into our bedroom, and I shut the door quietly.

A shaft of moonlight from the window illuminates her dark hair and shoulders, but her eyes and mouth are eclipsed in shadow.

“Hey,” she says, propping herself up on one elbow.

I run a hand through my hair, massaging my scalp briefly before dropping it back to my side.

She sits up, drawing her legs to her chest. It’s a young, vulnerable position I don’t think she even knows she does. “Want to talk about it?”

I stare down at her from the foot of the bed. “I didn’t tell you everything about my past.”

Dee props her chin on her knees, her eyes wide and white as the moon. “I’m the last person to judge.”

Rubbing my chin, I confess, “Ma’s an alcoholic.”

Dee nods as if it doesn’t come as a surprise.

“Dad’s death, and losing all our money, broke her in a way I’m not confident she’ll ever come back from. She’s been in rehab five times. The best of the best—places in California, New York, private farmlands in Montana where she participated in fucking equine therapy. Everything you can think of, I’ve tried to give her. But it’s just…not taking. She’s functioning, I’ll give her that much, but I worry that alcohol is the only way she can function, otherwise she’d choose bed all day.”

The side of the mattress dips under my weight as I take a seat. Dee’s touch is comforting as she rubs my back.

“Addicts are complicated,” Dee says. “And frightening. And incurable. It’s a battle they have to fight every day, but it is something they can overcome. I haven’t known your mother long, but from what I do know, I’m sure she’s trying.”

“She is.” I bring my hands to my face, digging my fingers into my temples. “God knows she is, but it’s so painful to watch. To worry. And Brad…I have no idea what the hell he’s doing to help, if he’s even doing it. I’ve been sending money to him, not wanting to stress Ma out, but I don’t think it’s going to her. He doesn’t seem to be watching her at all, instead just mooching. After tonight, I’m about to toss his head through a window. What the fuck is my brother doing? He’s not spending it on himself, right? Why’d he be living with Ma, then? Why keep bitching about how poor he is, then? What the fuck is his endgame?”

“We’ll find out. Do you have access to your mom’s bank statements?”

My muscles contract under her touch.

“I don’t intend to manage the cash.” She rubs my back in a gentle circle. “I’ll only take a look. Tell you what I see and where the money might be going. Are you sending it directly to her account and Brad manages it?”

“Yeah.” My hands fall to my lap. “But I’ve been so stressed out, and neither of them have said anything to me, so I assumed everything’s been fine until recently, when she called asking for more.”

“A proper assumption in your circumstance. You have your own problems to deal with, too. This doesn’t all fall on you.”

“But it does.”

“They’re adults, Wyn. Just like you.”

“My mom’s vulnerable. I don’t…I can’t—”

“Shh.” Dee’s arms come around my front, her breasts pressing into my back as she dips her head and kisses my neck. “I’ll help in any way we can. We can figure this out.”

“I can’t afford to send Ma to another rehab. Not if I don’t find something soon and someone buys my music…”

“Play me something.”

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