Page 65 of Second Chances

“I think I’m going to walk away from dancing for a little while. I’m thirty years old, and I’ve not experienced much because of dance. I want to travel a bit and explore other sides of my artistic nature. I love cooking, and I want to maybe do a course to learn more about it.”

“I can’t say I’m not going to struggle without you, but I’m so happy to hear you say that. You need to find the life you were destined for, not the one that’s been forced upon you.”

“I just hope it’s with Ryan.” I get into the car and buckle my seat belt.

“You don’t have to worry about that. He can’t wait to have you home. I have a feeling you’ll be spending most of the next week flat on your back.” Amy winks at me.

“God, I hope so. I’m so bloody horny at the moment.”

“Once you’ve had a North man, there’s no going back.”

“Hell no.” We both high five each other.

“Before you drive me home, is it possible to take me somewhere else? There’s something I need to do.”

Amy raises a skeptical eyebrow at me. “Where do you want to go?”

“To see my mother.”

* * *

It doesn’t take us long to reach my mother’s home. I don’t even know if she’s in. I’ve not spoken to her since I went into rehab. Ryan told me he’d called her and informed her of what was happening, but he hadn’t received a follow-up call inquiring about my welfare. My mother has her own life now. It doesn’t include me, and I need to deal with that before I can truly move past my addiction.

“You want me to come in with you?” Amy leans over from the driver’s seat and calls out the window as I stand beside her car.

“No, I need to do this on my own. Wait here. I won’t be long.”

“Ok.”

She turns off the engine, pulls out her phone, and begins typing a text message. I’m pretty certain it’s to Ryan. The thought of seeing him again in a few short hours gives me butterflies. I place my hand over my stomach. I really need to see him again.

Taking the steps to my mother’s house two at a time, I use my key to enter.

“Mum,” I call out. “Are you here?”

“Elena.” She appears from the bedroom, her hair half curled. A hairdresser stands behind her with curling irons. “What are you doing here? I’m having lunch with Mrs. French shortly. Will it take long? We have to plan the recital for the women’s association summer show.”

“No, Mother. It won’t take long.”

No, how are you?

No, hug for her daughter who’s just been to hell and back.

“Good. Are you sure it can’t wait until Tuesday? I really don’t want to be late. Mrs. French is terribly precise with her timekeeping.”

“No, it can’t wait.”

My mother shakes her head and turns to the hairdresser. “Children! I’ll just deal with this and be back soon. Why don’t you go and make us a nice cup of tea?”

“Of course, Mrs. Lopez.” The hairdresser disappears into the kitchen.

“Have you finished your little holiday then?” my mother questions and walks back into her room. I follow and watch as she sits at her dressing table and starts to apply make-up.

“It wasn’t a holiday. I was in rehab for painkiller addiction. I could have died from a heart attack. I’ll never be able to take painkillers again because of the risk of my addiction returning.”

“There is no need to be so dramatic, Elena. We wouldn’t want the hairdresser to hear.”

“I don’t give a fuck if she hears. It’s about time everyone heard you’re not the perfect mother you make yourself out to be.”

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