Upstander by James Preller (free ereaders .TXT) 📕

“Mom,” Jonny began.

“I’m not finished,” she stated, cutting him off. “I’ve learned that all my worrying hasn’t helped you. It’s only hurt. It’s hurt this family, it’s hurt your sister, it’s hurt my relationships, and it’s hurt me.”

She rose to her feet, smiled tightly. “I do not approve of the choices you make. I will help you if you sincerely seek help: a program, a therapist, inpatient, outpatient, medication, whatever it takes. If you want to walk that road, if you are ready, I will walk by your side.”

For a moment, Mary could see her mother almost lose it. She looked down, blinked back the tears, her entire body trembling with emotion, and then miraculously pulled herself together again. All Mary could think during those painful, awful moments, was this:

Go, Mom.

“I hope you will come to see that you are harming yourself,” she said. “But what you choose with your life is up to you. I will do nothing that contributes to your substance use disorder. I won’t cook you dinner, I won’t do your laundry, I won’t pay your rent. You must listen to me, Jonny. Because listening to yourself is not working. Nothing changes if nothing changes. If you stay on this path, you will die.”

Jonny absorbed every word, pale and subdued. He looked exhausted. Mrs. O’Malley picked up her cup and saucer. She walked out of the room in an act that took courage and supreme concentration. And she was gone, leaving behind only an echo. Mary heard her mother’s footsteps stop in the hallway, then turn around and march back. Standing at the archway, she pointed a shaking finger at her son. “To be clear, Jonny, so there is no mistaking this conversation. I want you out of this house. You will find a place. You will get a job. Yes, I will help you make this transition. But that’s where it stops. The rest is up to you. By the end of the month, I want you gone, or I will personally throw all your things out into the street for all the neighborhood to see.”

17[griff]

Griff rolled up to Mary’s house on a silver, fat-wheeled bike. Mary knew he was coming and waited out front with his borrowed bike leaning against a tree.

Mary gestured to the bike, “I thought you were coming to pick up—”

“Nah, you keep it. I’ve got this one now.” Griff stepped off his bike and carelessly let it drop to the ground. “You cut your hair.”

It was true. Mary had cut her hair. Just grabbed a pair of scissors and did it herself last night. She didn’t have complicated hair, long and straight, and now it wasn’t as long—by about six uneven inches. It barely reached her shoulders. “Is it okay?” she asked. “I just felt like doing it.”

“Wait, you cut it yourself?” Amusement played in Griff’s voice. He mimed frantically snipping at his own hair.

“So?”

“It’s awesome—good for you. It’s cool to have the confidence to, you know,” Griff paused, smiling, “not care if your head looks like a mangled bush.”

“Yeah, I used garden shears,” Mary quipped. “Is it really bad?”

“You look great,” Griff replied. And the way he said it, there was something there, as if he’d accidentally stumbled into a genuine compliment. He raised his chin, gestured to the house. “How’s your brother? All good?”

“Sleeping,” Mary said.

They had texted during the previous night, puzzling together a rough outline of Jonny’s whereabouts. It all centered around him hanging out with Vivvy, Griff’s sister, along with a bunch of their friends at her downtown apartment. Generally speaking, Mary wasn’t eager to share the family secrets—substance use, addiction, a brother thrown out of the house—with friends and neighbors. That stuff was their family’s business, a story they didn’t want to tell. Still, it felt good to have someone to confide in, someone who understood, someone she could trust.

“Do you think they’re a thing?” Mary asked. “My brother and Vivvy? That’s so weird.”

“I doubt they define themselves that way,” Griff said, shrugging innocently. “What’s weird about it?”

Mary blushed, didn’t answer. It was obvious what was weird about it. Griff seemed to enjoy making Mary uncomfortable.

“Come on, let’s go,” Griff said. “And don’t tell me you don’t have a bicycle, because I know you do.”

Mary looked back at the house. She should tell someone. “Where do you want to go?”

“I thought we’d ride around until we find trouble. Old Mill Pond? There’s a decent bike trail that loops around. Go to a deli, grab subs. I have money. That okay with you?”

They pedaled for twenty minutes, Griffin weaving and chattering and performing minor stunts. Mary enjoyed the ache in her quads, working the pedals, keeping up, the physical freedom of the breeze in her face. Once they arrived at the pond, they pulled off under a great old oak. There weren’t many people around. Griff got up to harass some geese, chasing them around, arms flailing like wings.

“Griff, don’t,” Mary said. “You’re scaring them.”

Griff widened his eyes, hands on his chest. “Moi? Seriously? These geese are nasty. Look at the ground, there’s mounds of green poop everywhere. Besides, they will attack. I’m actually risking my life here.”

But rather than prolong bickering about the wildlife, Griff plopped down beside Mary on the grass.

“I don’t understand why he won’t stop,” Mary said. “I miss him but can’t stand to be near him. I love him, but I don’t like him. Maybe it’s good he moves out.”

Griff looked at her, tossed a stone into the water. “You need to start thinking about other things,” he said. “It can’t be Jonny-Jonny all the time.”

Mary knew he was right.

But it annoyed her just the same.

18[favor]

A week later, Jonny was ready to move out. An older guy Jonny knew, Dez Ramirez, had a place in town and for some reason was glad to take Jonny in—provided he paid the first two months’ rent in advance. Maybe Dez wasn’t a dummy after all. Once