Page 74 of Hot and Bothered
“You said your mother will be fine?” I asked, leaving the conversation open for Evan to decide whether or not to answer.
“She’ll start getting better now,” he said. “It’ll take a few days or weeks, but she’ll come back around.”
“How?” I asked. “Why?”
“Because I forced her to take her meds,” he said. “That’s why Christie calls me. I’m the only one who can get through to her. I hate using threats on her, but it’s the only thing Mom responds to. She believes me when I tell her I’ll have her hospitalized. Christie’s too much of a good kid. Threats from her mean nothing.” Evan let out a pained scoff. “I’m the asshole who’ll have her committed.”
Committedsounded like such a cruel word. Like you were locking someone away against their will. But I supposed that was exactly what it was. If a loved one was hurting or in trouble and either couldn’t or wouldn’t do what it took to get better, sometimes you had to take drastic measures.
“Do you think maybe…” I trailed off, wondering if it was even my place to say anything. “Do you think that might be a good thing? To send your mom somewhere? Somewhere she can get better?”
“Shit, Alice,” Evan’s eyes went wide. “I’m not actually going to send my mom to a psych ward.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I’m not that much of an asshole,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that to her.”
“Wouldn’t they be able to help her?” I asked.
“You think sending her to a crazy house is going to help?” he asked, sounding scandalized. “Do you know what those places are like?”
I frowned. “That’s a terrible term to use. Mental health issues have enough of a stigma. Getting someone the help they need isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”
Now it was Evan’s turn to frown.
“You think you know what my mom needs better than I do?” he said. “I’m the one who’s been taking care of her for years.”
“You told me yourself, it’s a vicious cycle,” I said. “She doesn’t get any better, she just goes through better and worse phases. Don’t you want her to get better for good?”
“There is nofor good,” Evan growled, hefting his bag over his shoulder and heading to the front door. “This is how she’s always been.”
“That doesn’t mean it always has to be this way,” I said.
“I can handle it, okay?” Evan snapped. He turned away, not facing me. “You don’t need to try and fix this. It’s not your problem or your family to worry about.”
“Evan…” I reached out a hand to touch his shoulder.
He flinched away from me.
“Just forget about it, okay?” he said shortly. “You’ve got an early shift tomorrow. You should get some sleep.”
He left the apartment, closing the door behind him without another look.
It was shocking, and it hurt. I’d never known Evan to be this stubborn about anything.
I’d thought Evan and I were getting to the point where wewereeach other’s family. His problems were my problems.
But clearly, he didn’t feel the same way.
It hurt that he hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me about his mom before now. He’d only confessed because I refused to let him go without me. How long would he have kept it up, pretending everything was okay? How long would I have been in the dark about this awful situation looming over his head?
He’d gotten mad at me for not asking him immediately who Christie was when I saw her messages. He’d wondered out loud how long I would have kept on pretending everything was fine.
All the while, there he was, doing the same thing to me. Hiding something this important from me, not letting me in, always deflecting when I probed about his past and home life.
I lay in bed, restless and unable to sleep.
Didn’t Evan trust me? Didn’t he want me to be a part of his life?
