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The place was packed. The marquee outside advertised it as karaoke night, which had the crowd buzzing. Callie’s was little more than a hole in the wall, but it was one of those places that had always been around. It was close to campus and had become a hangout for many of the college kids, and the older folks who were lifelong barflies.
The bar was the centerpiece of the establishment, a block of glossy wood surrounded by so many black barstools I couldn’t count them all. Both sides of the room were lined with booths, which left just enough space at the very back wall for a small stage and sound system. As I squeezed my way between the occupied barstools and booths, the person currently on that stage came into view.
My mother was belting her heart out to Bon Jovi, her bleached-blonde hair a frizzy mess around her face and sticking to her damp forehead. She wore a long red trench coat and knee-high boots, but I was pretty sure she had a pajama top on underneath.
“What the hell is going on?” I murmured under my breath, breaking through into the crowd gathered in front of the stage.
Someone grabbed my shoulder, startling me. I spun, but calmed as I met Emersyn’s eyes.
“Sorry,” she said, yelling over the blaring music and my mother’s tone-deaf melody. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I waved a hand. “It’s fine. I’m glad you called.”
Emersyn’s lips thinned as both of our gazes flicked to the stage. It was obvious my mother was intoxicated. She could barely stand upright, gripping onto the mic stand for dear life as she swayed on the spot.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. She doesn’t really know me, but I heard people talking and they mentioned her name…I figured you’d want to know. She’s refused to get off the stage for a few songs now.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Great.”
I waded closer to the stage as the song thankfully neared its end. No one clapped as she finished, but my mother let out an excited cackle like she was having the time of her life.
“How about another?” she said, slurring the end of the sentence.
There was an audible groan from the crowd, but I had finally made it to the stage.
“Mom,” I whisper-yelled, trying not to draw too much attention to myself, but also needing her to hear me. It took me at least three more tries to get her eyes to lock on mine.
Her giddy smile instantly faded, as if I’d flipped a switch. Her eyes widened. “Lark?” She blinked down at me. “Is that you?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Come on, let’s get you off there so someone else can have a turn.”
I gestured for her to come toward me, but she continued to stare. The crowd around the stage had gone uncomfortably quiet. To my horror, my mother’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, Lark, baby, I’m so sorry. Don’t be mad at me anymore. Please.”
My face heated as dozens of pairs of eyes locked onto me. I sucked my lips between my teeth, trying to remain calm as the hair on the back of my neck rose. “Mom, please,” I whispered. “Come down so we can talk.”
Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks and soaked into the striped shirt peeking out from beneath her trench coat. “You want to talk?”
I nodded and held a hand out to her. “Yeah, come on. Let’s talk.”
She gulped down a sob, and then nodded. My chest eased as she crouched down and grasped my hand so I could help her off the stage. With her feet back on the floor, my mother leaned into me for support. She smelled like a combination of beer and vodka, and I held my breath as I helped guide her through the crowd. They started to cheer once she relinquished the stage area.
Emersyn was suddenly there again, and she wrapped an arm around Mom’s waist from the other side. “Here, let me help.”
I gave her a grateful smile as I headed toward the exit.
My mother, however, dug in her heels. “Wait, where are we going?” she snapped.
“We need to get you home,” I said. “How much have you had to drink?”
Mom shook her head, and she tried to pull away from the two of us. “No, you said we could talk.”
“We can talk at home,” I gritted out between clenched teeth, trying to keep my grip on her. For someone who was so unsteady on her feet, she was strong.
“No. I want to stay. I want to talk here. I need to talk to you, Lark.”
Mom twisted and pulled, and I panicked, trying to simultaneously keep her from falling on her face and running away.
