Page 73 of Running from Drac
She shakes her head, but then her focus moves to her sister, and she gasps. “You little whore! You fucking took the happy ending, didn’t you?”
Poppy shrugs. “Maybe I did… maybe I didn’t.”
“Oh, you did. Wait! You fucked him? Which one? Tell me,” Pippa screams, shaking her sister’s shoulders violently. I wanna live vicariously through you.”
“The bald one,” she replies quickly. “But shh, keep your voice down. I don’t want to get him in trouble.”
Pippa slaps her shoulder. “Holy shit. That’s amazing.” She then looks around. “Hey, wait. Where’d your mom go, Amber?”
My mother is weirdly absent. I haven’t seen her since we put on our robes and got out of the clay baths. As if on cue, Tula appears, handing me a note.
“Your mother wanted me to give you this.”
My friends all stare at me with pity.
Reluctantly, I open the piece of paper.
My Dearest Amber,
I’m sorry I didn’t stay for the rest of your bachelorette party, but I didn’t feel like I belonged. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure what to say. Our relationship has been so strained since your father died, and I know that’s mostly my fault. I’m not okay, and spending time with you today only solidified that.
I’m going to be checking myself into a rehab center. I’m not even sure if I’ll make your wedding, so I’m sorry for that too. But it’s probably better if I don’t go. You deserve happiness—a happiness I can’t give you without your father here. I saw the way you looked at me and heard what your friend said about me. I’m thankful you stuck up for me when you did, but I shouldn’t have to rely on my daughter to fight my battles for me.
I hope everything goes well at your wedding. If I can make it, I’ll be there. But if not, I hope you don’t hate me forever. We both know I need this.
I need to get better for you, for myself, and everyone else that I’ve brought down over the years. Hell, I couldn’t even hug you or tell you congratulations like I should have. What kind of mother does that make me? A shitty one. One that doesn’t deserve to even orbit your Earth. Please give my regards to Eddie and his family. We both know that Joe and Bunny have been far better parents to you than I ever was.
I’ve realized that without your father, I’m nothing, and that’s not okay. I need to figure out who I am without him. And right now, that means I need to be selfish, so selfish I can’t even look at myself in the mirror.
You’re my daughter, and I love you dearly, but this needs to happen. If I have any hope of becoming the mother you need, I have to fix myself first.
Please don’t hate me.
And if you do. I understand why.
Right now, I hate myself for doing this to you.
I love you, my little Ambee, and I wish you all the happiness in the world. Happiness you can only achieve without this me in it.
Love always,
Mom.
The paper feels like acid in my hands as I crumple it up, desperate to shred it into tiny little pieces. Instead, I stuff itinto the pocket of my robe, fighting the tears that are already falling without warning.
“I fucking hate her,” I breathe out, on the verge of collapsing.
My friends surround me, all of them—even Pippa. They give me a strong group hug, one that can barely contain the sobs that are already shaking me apart inside.
“What she say?” Pippa asks, pulling away to look at me.
“She said she’s checking herself into a rehab center, and that she’s a shitty mom. At least she got that part right.” Pulling away, I start walking toward the salon, doing my best to stay strong even though I’m unraveling like frayed yarn. “Oh, and she’s not coming to my wedding,” I announce out of spite. “So, thanks for inviting her, Pippa. That shit worked out great.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Eddie
My phone rings just as I get off the Moana exit, minutes away from meeting the guy with all the bikes for sale. It’s been a week since Wesley got locked up, and every day since has felt heavier. The last time I saw him; he looked more tired than I’d ever seen him. He said they were throwing the book at him. His useless-ass lawyer managed to argue down the intent to maim charge, but everything else stuck. He’s staring down three years. Three fucking years!
