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Arms crossed, I lean against the counter next to where she’s making the pancakes. She’s burned nearly all of them, and I’m going to take over if she burns any more.
“Jade! Your boyfriend is so cute,” she says, nudging me with her elbow.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Well, he’s a cutie.”
“Okay.”
“It was nice of him to drive you here.” She flips the pancakes, but again, she waited too long and they’re too dark. If I take over now, she might leave and go for some alcohol, so I squeeze my fingernails into my palm and restrain myself.
“Yep.”
I know she wants me to tell her everything about Ian, spill the tea, but I don’t talk to her about my relationships if I can help it. I had a high school relationship that she got really invested in. She and the girl I was dating got close, and when I broke up with her, my mom had a mini episode and didn’t speak to me for three days. The last thing she needs right now is to get invested in the nonexistent relationship Ian and I have. Or don’t have.
“Listen, can we talk about last night? You really scared me.”
My mom doesn’t say anything—she just starts pouring the next round of pancakes onto the griddle. Her silence is her way of letting me know she’s willing to hear me out at least. If she didn’t want to talk about it, she’d just run away.
“I don’t know if you know, but I found you in the bathtub when I got home. Passed out drunk. In an overflowing tub. The bathroom was flooded. The bedroom was half-flooded. You need to buy a dehumidifier?—”
“Why don’t you take my card and get Ian to take you to Walmart to get one?”
Like hell I’m going to leave her by herself today. She knows I won’t let her drink if I’m around, and she probably wants me out of the house so she can start on another bender. I ignore her suggestion. She’s skirting what I’m saying.
“That’s not the point. What you did last night was really dangerous, Mom. If I hadn’t gotten here when I did . . .” I trail off, not brave enough to finish the sentence, but she knows what I’m getting at.
Her body is angled away from mine, her shoulders hunched with shame.
“I can’t keep doing this forever,” I say quietly. “After I graduate, I?—”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” she says, and I roll my eyes. She always says this, like she’s not a danger to herself.
“I’d like to be able to travel after?—”
“Then travel, Jadey! You don’t need to?—”
“I’d feel a lot better if you started going to AA meetings.”
“Oh, pfft. I don’t need that,” she says and waves her hand at me while pouring more batter onto the griddle.
“You do. You always do this after a?—”
“You know what, Jade-bear, I just remembered I left my phone upstairs. Can you watch my pancakes?” my mom asks inher sweetest voice, interrupting me and handing me the spatula. She drops the scoop back into the batter bowl, and without a second glance at me, she slips out of the kitchen.
My teeth grind together, and it vibrates my skull. This is what happens every time I try to bring up AA. Every time I try to talk about her drinking.
If my grandma were here, she’d probably remind me I can let my mom make her own decisions, and that managing and mothering her isn’t my job.
But itfeelslike my responsibility. And that is very hard to let go of.
“Jade-bear?” Ian asks, appearing in the doorway again.
“Oh, you heard that, huh?”
“Sorry, one sec, I’m just changing your name in my phone to Jade-bear.”
I shake my head, fighting a smile, and pick up the spatula. I flip the pancakes Mom just poured, turning down the heat. They’re a golden brown and near perfect.
