Page 63 of Doctor Hot Mess

“That’s not fair,” she protests, though there’s little heat in her voice. “I’ve always wanted to help, Jonah. We just didn’t know how.”

“Funny how that worked out,” I snap. “You didn’t know how, so you just... didn’t.”

She’s quiet on the other end, and I know my words landed harder than I intended. But I can’t take them back. And deep down, I’m not sure I want to.

“I don’t understand,” she says, her voice tinged with frustration. “How did it get this far?”

I let out a slow breath, gripping the counter. “Because we weren’t there for her, Mom. She didn’t think she could call any of us for help. And, honestly? I don’t blame her.”

Her silence on the other end feels heavy, weighted with unspoken guilt. “I keep thinking about how we handled things back then,” she says quietly. “Or how we didn’t. Maybe if we’d done things differently…”

“Don’t,” I cut her off, sharper than I mean to. “There’s no point rehashing all that now.”

“But I’ve failed all of you,” she presses, her voice trembling. “We practically pushed her out when she needed us the most. And you?—”

“Let’s not do this,” I interrupt, my jaw tightening. “We all made choices, Mom. Lila included.”

She exhales shakily, and I can tell she’s holding back tears. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, Jonah. But I’ve been thinking a lot about Dell, even before Lila called me.”

The name slams into me like a fist. My grip on the counter tightens. “That was a long time ago,” I say, my voice quieter now.

“I know,” she says gently. “But it broke us, Jonah. All of us. You, Eddie, Lila, your dad, and me. We all fell apart in different ways, and I don’t think any of us ever really put the pieces back together. And that falls on us as parents, not you kids.”

Her words stir memories I’ve spent years burying. Dell’s laugh. The fear in his voice when he slipped. The silence that followed.

“I shouldn’t have made him come,” I say before I can stop myself. The words feel foreign, as if they belong to someone else. But I've never admitted that out loud, and for some reason, I feel compelled to say it.

“Jonah,” she says firmly, “you were a kid. It wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s not how it felt,” I reply, my throat tight. “Not then. Not now. The whole town blamed me, and maybe they were right. He died. I lived.”

“You survived, but barely,” she says softly. “You were broken, Jonah. We all were.”

I don’t respond. The silence stretches between us, heavy with the weight of the past.

“Eddie moved away to escape it,” she continues, her voice gentler now. “You went to Alabama to try to put it behind you. And Lila… she was just a kid, Jonah. She lost you and Eddie, and she was left alone to navigate it all. I wish I had seen that then.”

I rub the back of my neck. The familiar pang of guilt sinks deeper. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“Because I don’t want to keep making the same mistakes,” she says, her tone resolute. “I know I can’t undo the past, but I can do better now. I want to show up for Lila. She deserves that. You all do.”

Her words catch me off guard. I lean against the counter, trying to process the shift. “This isn’t going to be a simple fix, Mom,” I warn. “Lila’s got a lot to work through. Financially, emotionally, and possibly legally. It’s not just about showing up this time. She needs solutions.”

“I know,” she says, her voice steady. “But I’m ready to do whatever it takes. Your dad is, too.”

A lump forms in my throat, but I push it down. I’m not ready to let hope creep in—not yet.

We fall into silence, but it feels less strained than usual. Almost... familiar.

I give her the details about Lila’s medical stuff and what I know, which isn't much. She says they’re driving down today and will see me later. I don’t know if they’ll follow through, but for once, it feels like they might.

Her unexpected ownership of all the shit we went through because they didn't know how to parent through a crisis is new, so maybe she means it. That remains to be seen.

The truth is, the damage was done long before now. When everyone in our town turned on me, when they whispered behind my back and acted like I pushed Dell off that tower, my parents should’ve been the ones standing up for me and beside me. They weren’t.

They didn’t wrap us in a cocoon or try to shield us from the fallout. They held their heads down like they had something to be ashamed of. They didn't have to say it, I knew they felt the same as everyone else. They blamed me.

In the process, everyone in our family was neglected, and we eventually all fell apart.

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