Embrace (Evolve Series #2) (21 page)

Chapter 23

Psychedelic

~Laney~

F
reaking voicemail!

I haven’t heard from Dane since he dropped me off
last night around 11. His phone keeps going to voicemail and all my texts to
him remain unread. So I sit here, forcing myself to finish up my Psych paper,
which started out as your average pain in the ass homework assignment but has
turned into quite the epiphany of self-reflection.

That’s what alone time will get you.

The assignment was to write a ten page paper, double
spaced, where you are both the Psychologist as well as the patient, and portray
one session concerning one prime topic or “issue.” Now if that doesn’t sound
like hella fun, I don’t know what does. Yet here I sit, merely the medium, as
the paper writes itself. It’s suddenly one of my favorite assignments ever.

I was going to write about Evan and my feelings of
guilt, heartache, some regrets, but the imaginary doctor started out asking “about
me” (that seems like something the doctor would do first session, right?).
After softball and Dane, I may have mentioned Disney movies, and then my
family, or lack of…and voila! My paper, “Disney and Mommy Issues,” is written.
I’m thinking it’s pretty brilliant.

Surely it hasn’t escaped everyone’s attention (but
mine) that Disney doesn’t do moms.

Bambi
—mom killed in first ten minutes of
movie.

Cinderella
—mom dead, enter evil stepmother

Snow White
—again with the evil stepmom

The Little Mermaid
—no mom or stepmom

Finding Nemo
—mom eaten in first
five
minutes
of movie

Beauty and the Beast
—you guessed it, just a
dad

Sleeping Beauty
—you see the mom for five seconds,
long enough for her to let three fairies disappear with her newborn for 16
years

Aladdin
—he’s got no one, Jasmine’s got just a
dad

Peter Pan
—no parent or bad parents? Who
knows, but YO—there’s a dude sneaking in your kid’s window every night and flying
away with your daughter!! Red flag!

I think I’ve made my point, and I fear I may be
subconsciously drawn to Disney because I connect with the recurring absence of
mother theme. Too much? Overdramatic? It’s a
Psych
paper…I’m totally
getting an A.

Am I playing it off like my mom thing doesn’t bother
me? Probably.

Am I now gonna actually mail her the letter I wrote
her? Possibly.

The edge of the folder sticks out from the pile on
my desk; I can clearly pick it out of the pile of clutter from here. All the
information Dane gathered on her is in it, the answer to many unanswered
questions just five feet away. Where she’s been, where she’s at, probably even
an address. Does she love me? Okay, that answer probably isn’t in there.

And why is it all of a sudden important to me to
know?

Or has it always been important to me and I’ve just
been kidding myself?

I should have never taken Psych.

If I lay across the bed and stretch this arm…a
little further…got it! Page one, I already know all this; name, birthday, etc.
Page two, yup, right there—address. She’s only about two hours away.

Maybe I should take the chance. Maybe this is an
opportunity to heal, unafraid of any backfire, any more hurt. Maybe it would
help, or at least get rid of this nagging burn in my gut that surfaces out of
nowhere every once in a while. Maybe I should send the letter. Maybe I should
take a road trip.

Can you just show up for a visit at this type of
place? I could call and ask. Yeah, I’ll call and ask, and if they say I can’t
come, then that’s my sign that this is in fact a terrible, Disney, Psych 101-induced
bad, bad idea.

I clutch my phone, staring at it, willing Dane to
call right now and talk me out of this. One more try; surely he’ll answer this
time and save me from doing something rash.

Voicemail again. So done.

Snatching up the paper and slicing one very painful
paper cut into my finger, I dial the number. As it rings, that juicy, extra
saliva in your mouth, tingly jaw, I’m about to puke feeling kicks in, but I
bite it back. I’m a big girl now and I fight my demons like a big girl. By
myself.

“Rosehill, can I help you?”

“Y-yes, I was wondering if I could just come visit
my, uh, someone?”

“A patient here?”

No, the janitor; I really need to see him.

“Yes, a patient there.”

“Are you a family member?”

“Um, yes, she’s my…” I clear my throat, swallowing
down the pool of nervous fluid in my mouth. “She’s my mother.”

“What’s the patient’s name?”

“Tricia. Trish. Tricia Walker.” She probably thinks
I’m guessing since I’m stammering like a skittish schoolgirl.

“And your name?”

“Laney. Laney Walker. I’m, well, I’m her daughter.”

“I need to place you on hold for a moment, all right?”

“All right.” Oh my God, is she going to ask my mother
if she wants to see me? What if she says no? I am such an idiot, just laying
myself out there for more fucking rejection. I should hang up. Shit! I gave her
my name!
Breathe, in and out, breathe
.
She can’t eat you through the
phone.

“Miss Walker?” the woman’s voice comes back on the
line, surprisingly stalling my panic attack.

“Yes?”

“I’ve put a call in to your mother’s doctor as well
as her guardian. As soon as I talk to them both, I can give you a call back.
When were you wanting to visit?”

“I guess, I mean today is fine, if that’s all right.”

“I’ll ask. What number can I call you back at?”

I give her my number and hang up, nervous she’ll
never call back, scared she’ll call back and say no, terrified she’ll call back
and say yes.

I want to talk to Dane. Obviously I can’t be left to
my own devices—look at the catastrophic mess I stirred up. For years I’ve
tucked it away, but left alone for one harmless Sunday morning and I’m planning
reunion road trips and digging up bones with a big ass shovel.

And where the hell is he??? Lemme guess, he lost his
phone and didn’t memorize my number to call me from another one. Been there,
done that; he better not even try and go there. He owns planes, he can get to a
fucking phone. Or here’s a thought…your brother dates my roommate—phone a
friend! Use your 50/50!

Okay, so I’m losing it. Calling my other man.

“Hello?”

I feign cheerfulness. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Slugger, how are you?”

“Fine, just thought I’d call and see how you were.”

“I’m the same as when you called me yesterday,” he goads,
“what’s new with you? I know your life has to be more exciting than mine.”

“Nothing’s new.”
LIAR!
“Just missed you.”

“Uh huh.”

I know that tone…the jig is up.

“What’s really going on, Laney? Out with it.”

Deep breath, and go,
“IcalledtogovisitmymotherandnowI’mfreakingout.”

“Did you go?”

“I just called a second ago. I wrote a paper, and
Dane’s busy, so I got crazy. Did you know Walt Disney’s mother died of
asphyxiation in the house he bought her?”

Perhaps I should be checked for PMDD. It’s different
than PMS, worse, in fact, and I’m almost positive the commercial I saw was
scripted specifically to my current symptoms. Is the P before or after your
time of the month? Either way, pretty sure I have it.

I take a minute and google it…that’s how sure I am.
Jesus
,
the list of side effects from suggested medication is longer than the symptoms!
I think I saw everything from blurred vision to run out of gas in your car to give
off a scent attractive to werewolves to ingrown nose hairs on there.
No,
thank you
, I’ll deal with this on my own…

“So, what’d they say?” His voice is as calm as ever,
monotone and infuriating. Also, he seems to care nothing about the horrible
news of Walt’s mother, which is kinda harsh.

“They’ll calling her doctor and her guardian and
gonna call me back. She might not want to see me. And who is her guardian?
Shouldn’t that be, like, you?”

He may seem cool and collected, but once in a great
while, like now, the slightest shift in his voice betrays him. “I have no idea
who it is; I quit getting information or options years ago, Laney. Can’t guard
somebody who doesn’t want me to. And she’ll want to see you.”

“You don’t know that for sure, Daddy.”

“It’s the
only
thing I know for sure, kiddo,”
his voice doesn’t exactly crack, but it’s strained, “is that she’s your mama,
Laney. She loves you. Always did, always will.”

My dad is a very “B comes after A” kind of guy, so
he won’t speak again until I do; it’s simply my turn now in his eyes, but damn
if I know what to say to that. We may just sit here in silent standoff for
hours.

Finally, I croak out a “well—”

Must have been enough, ‘cause he jumps in. “I’m
proud of you, Laney. Real big thing you’re doing. Praying it works out for you
the way you want it to.”

“Thanks, Daddy. Do you, uh, do you want to go with
me?”

“Better not. I think this needs to be your thing.
You understand?”

I nod even though he can’t see it. “Yeah, I
understand. Anyway, they may not call back or even let me come, so we’ll see.”

My phone beeps then and I’m not sure if I want it to
be Dane or Rosehill more. “Daddy, I have a call. I’ll let you know how it all
goes.”

“Love you, Slugger. Good luck.”

I glance at the screen as I quickly flip the call
over. It’s not Dane.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Laney?”

“It is.” my answer anxious and wispy.

“Laney, this is Joan, calling you back from
Rosehill.”

“Yes.”

“I spoke with both parties, and everyone is in
agreement it would be fine if you came for a visit. You are over 18, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All right, then it is fine for you to come by
yourself, which is the preferred plan as of right now. Your mother’s guardian
would also like to be present, so can you tell me what time you’ll be here?”

“Um…” I look at the time on my phone; it’s almost
noon and I haven’t showered. “Is around three o’clock all right?”

“Should be fine. I’ll let her know and we’ll see you
then. Press the buzzer by the front doors and ask for Joan. I’ll come up and
see you back.”

“All right, thank you.”

I’m going to see my mother. In mere hours. What do I
wear? Do I bring anything? I can look directions up on my phone. Do I have gas
in my truck? I need a shower. I need to throw up. I need to calm the hell down.

Decided for me, I run to the bathroom, emptying all
I had in my stomach and then some. When the dry heaves stop, I rise, brushing
my teeth immediately. I use my left hand to hold the right one for the task,
since just one alone isn’t stable enough to do the job. Next I turn on the
shower, going to grab my phone while the water heats up, trying Dane again.
Even though I said I was going to.

All previous plans are obviously out the window; I
can’t even brush my own teeth functionally. I am officially a hot mess.

And his voicemail is now the most annoying fucking
sound on the planet.

This time, I leave one in return.

“It’s me. Not sure where you are, but when you get
this, call me, please, kinda a big day here. I love you, Dane, I really hope
everything’s okay.”

“
W
here we going?”

Oh, look, I invited Sawyer to go with me…except I
didn’t.

“Hello to you too, Sawyer.” I laugh at the big teddy
bear who just hopped in my truck out of nowhere. “
I
am going to see
someone. Not sure where you think you’re going.”

“Someone who? Where? Where’s Dane?” His eyes squint,
grumpy scowl aimed right at me.

“Someone personal, a couple hours away, and your
guess is as good as mine. He hasn’t answered his phone or texts all morning.
Now jump out, stowaway, I gotta go.”

“No can do, Gidge, no way you’re going on a couple
hour mystery trip alone. P.S. though, I’m excellent company. You just hit the
fucking travel buddy jackpot. You need to recognize.”

“You’re pumping the gas every time.”

“Done.”

“And don’t touch the music.”

“Now hold on a damn minute,” he growl-whines, “I
said travel buddy as in buddy system, not dictatorship.”

My lips purse as my eyes cut to him, my fingertips
drumming the steering wheel. I’m actually very happy to have this silly man’s
company, he will no doubt lighten the stress of the trip, but no way am I
showing my cards and listening to Metallica the whole way.

“How about every other song I get to pick?” How
cute, Sawyer has a pweeeeaseeee face.

“How about you buckle your seatbelt and zip that lip
right after you tuck the bottom one back in.”