Soon You'll Get Better.
"I know delusion when I see it in the mirror."
The morning passed in a mixture of half-filled suitcases and the soft sound of a playlist I barely paid attention to. Turning 21 was supposed to feel different, but so far, it was just another Sunday, except this time, I was knee-deep in figuring out how many outfits I actually needed for Hawaii.
Mallory, in typical fashion, had texted at least ten times, demanding I let her come over and help, but I knew that would turn into her making me try everything on while she judged my choices. So, for now, I ignored her messages and focused on rolling another dress into the corner of my suitcase.
It wasn't exactly how I imagined spending my birthday, but in a way, I didn't mind. Tomorrow, everything would be different, the trip, the new experiences, the fact that I'd officially be able to order a drink. Today, though? Today could just be simple.
After the eleventh text, I finally gave in and told Mallory she could come over. She always knew exactly how to wear me down. I hurried to pack the clothes I knew she wouldn't approve of before she got here.
I continued packing until Mallory walked into my room. My clothes were scattered carelessly everywhere. My hair was disheveled from trying on a million different shirts. She walked into a tornado and her face said that perfectly.
"Auggie, what in the world is going on here?"
I looked up from my half-packed suitcase, a shirt still clutched in my hands. "Packing, obviously."
Mallory gave me a pointed look, stepping over a pile of shorts on the floor. "This looks less like packing and more like a clothing explosion." She picked up a tank top, inspecting it like it personally offended her. "Please tell me you're not bringing this."
I snatched it back. "You're here for moral support, not fashion policing."
"You invited the wrong person, then," she said, plopping onto my bed. "Now, show me what you've got so far. I refuse to let you embarrass yourself or me in Hawaii."
"I would like to set the record straight, I did not invite you! You invited yourself. You're relentless!" I squealed, falling back on a pile of bathing suits from laughing. She tossed a pair of yoga shorts at my face. I couldn't help but laugh more.
"Oh before I forget! I have something else for your birthday!" She stood up from the bed and started searching through her purse. She dug in there for a few seconds before she pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"Here." She said as she handed it to me. I unfolded the paper expecting to see a handwritten note instead it was a hand drawn picture of two flowers.
"Thank you?" I said, making sure I sounded as confused as I looked.
"It's the tattoo we're getting! It's about time we break into your skin. It's a carnation and a morning glory! Our birthday month flowers." She definitely sounded as excited as she looked.
"Mals you know I can't…"
"Just mull it over before you give me a definitive answer. I already have our appointment set and I'm paying for yours. It's going to be on the last day before we leave Hawaii so we need to make sure we take care of our skin!" She gleamed with excitement but I felt the complete opposite. I know my mom wouldn't approve no matter how sentimental this piece may be. I just couldn't say yes.
"I'll think it over. But I can't promise you anything." I said to her as I stood up from the ground to give her a hug.
Mallory squeezed me tight, undeterred. "That's all I ask."
I smiled against her shoulder, but as much as I loved the idea of something permanent between us, the weight of my mother's disapproval settled in my chest.
She pulled back, grinning. "Now, let's get back to packing before I find out you're only bringing sweats!"
We spent the next few hours packing and repacking my suitcase until we finally settled on a mix of outfits we could both agree on. With each folded piece of clothing, the trip started to feel more real. By the time we finished, the clock had crept past 4 p.m., and we decided to go out for an early dinner.
My mom had spent most of my birthday tucked away in her room. She had wished me a happy birthday earlier, but that was the extent of it. I knew not to expect much, she needed to focus on getting better, but a small part of me still wished things were different. I tried not to dwell on it as I finished getting ready, focusing instead on the evening ahead.
"I really want to save my first drink for Hawaii, so please, no expectations of me drinking tonight," I told Mallory as we arrived at one of my favorite spots—a small Italian restaurant near the harbor. The warm glow of the string lights overhead softened the evening chill, and the scent of fresh basil and garlic drifted through the air.
Mallory just laughed, nudging my shoulder playfully as we stepped inside. We were seated right away, and since we'd both been here plenty of times, we placed our order the moment we sat down.
Dinner passed in a whirlwind of laughter and easy conversation, a welcome distraction from everything still on my to-do list. As much as I wanted to soak in the rest of my birthday, I had loose ends to tie up before tomorrow's painfully early flight.
By the time we left the restaurant, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow over the harbor. Mallory walked me to my car, giving me one last squeeze before we parted ways.
"Get some sleep, birthday girl," she teased. "Tomorrow's gonna be a long day."
I rolled my eyes but smiled, knowing she was right. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
After dinner, I made a quick stop at the pharmacy to grab some last-minute toiletries and pick up my mom's medication. I didn't want her to worry about making the trip while I was gone, so it was the least I could do.
Once inside, I moved quickly, heading straight for what I needed. Time wasn't on my side, and I still had so much to do before the trip. With everything in hand, I made my way to the pharmacy counter, where a young guy in glasses and a white pharmacy coat stood behind the register.
"Hi miss, how can I help you today?" He had a warm smile across his face.
"Hi, I'm here to pick up my moms medication. Her name is Susan Evans." I offered him the same smile.
"Okay give me a sec to look her up really quick." He started typing away on the keyboard. Minutes passed and his facial expression changed from warmth to confusion. Finally he looked away from his screen and over to me.
"Is there any chance it's under a different name?" He asked.
"Uhm…I don't think so. Maybe Susan Lynn Evans?" I responded. He went back to typing away with the same confused look on his face.
"Maybe an address?" He asked.
"9183 Hollow Lane, Gig Harbor." I replied.
"That's weird, nothing is popping up. And you're sure this is the pharmacy she uses?" He looked more concerned than before.
"Yeah, I've brought her to this one many times before. Here I have her old bottle in my bag."
I rummaged through my bag, fingers shaking slightly as I dug past my wallet and keys. Finally, my hand closed around the small orange bottle. I pulled it out and placed it on the counter.
"Here," I said, sliding it toward him.
The pharmacist picked it up, adjusting his glasses as he examined the label. His brow furrowed deeper.
His hesitation made my stomach twist.
"This… doesn't look like one of our bottles," he said slowly, turning it in his hand. "The color is off and the label isn't formatted like ours, that's weird the address does match though."
I frowned. "What do you mean? This is the only place my mom gets all of her prescriptions."
He glanced back at his screen, typing again, his eyes scanning for something…anything…that might explain it. But after a few more seconds, he exhaled sharply and shook his head.
"I'm really sorry, but there's no record of any active or even old prescriptions for Susan Evans. Not here, not in our system at all."
My stomach dropped. "That's not possible. I've definitely brought her here before—."
He hesitated, then shook his head again. "I don't know what to tell you, but there's nothing under her name or address. If she was filling something with us, I would see it even if it was a different location."
The air in the pharmacy suddenly felt stifling. How is this even possible? We've been coming here for months for this vital medicine. The one that's supposed to be helping her, saving her, healing her...
"Mind if I take a look at the contents?" he asked, shaking the pill bottle lightly.
I nodded, my pulse hammering in my ears as he twisted off the cap and poured a few pills into his palm. His eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers carefully rolling one of them between his thumb and forefinger. He stayed silent, occasionally glancing between the bottle and the computer screen as he typed something in.
His frown deepened.
"Your mom has breast cancer, right?" His voice was quieter now, more cautious. He still didn't look at me, just kept staring at the pill in his hand.
I swallowed hard. "Yeah… stage two." My voice barely came out. The walls of the pharmacy seemed to be closing in on me.
Without another word, he set the bottle down and turned away from the counter. My stomach twisted as I watched him walk down an aisle, scanning the shelves like he knew exactly what he was looking for. A moment later, he returned with a small box in hand.
He opened it, pulled out a pill bottle, and carefully tipped one of the pills into his palm. Then, side by side, he compared it to the one from my mom's bottle.
His jaw tightened. Something was wrong. Really wrong.
The pharmacist's voice rang in my ears, but I couldn't process the words. My stomach twisted. My hands shook. This couldn't be possible.
The world around me blurred, my grip tightening around the pill bottle as reality shifted beneath me. I barely remember leaving the pharmacy, barely remember the drive home. But the second I stepped through the door and saw her sitting there so calm, composed, as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't hurt me in the worst way. Something inside me snapped.
"How long were you planning on lying to me?" My voice came out steadier than I felt, but my mom didn't even flinch.
"I don't know what you're talking about." She peered at me over the top of her glasses, annoyance filled her eyes.
"I'm talking about you lying to me…lying about being sick. MOM." My voice rose, the blood rushing to my face, anger simmering beneath the surface.
"August, you're being ridiculous. What is this nonsense? And you better watch your tone with me. I will not be disrespected in my own house."
"I went to the pharmacy you know the same one I've been taking you to for a year to pick up your meds." I shook the pill bottle in front of her, letting the rattle of the bottle echo through the silence. "I thought I was being a good daughter, trying to spare you the trouble while I'm gone."
Her eyes narrowed as I kept shaking it. I paused, giving her the chance to feel the weight of what I was saying. Then, I dropped the bomb.
"Do you know what's in here, Mom? Sugar pills."
Her face twisted with disbelief. "That's ridiculous. That's not possible."
"I've seen the actual prescription bottles. I know what the real meds look like." I stood there, watching her closely, trying to gauge her reaction. "You can keep lying, but I'm done. You've ruined my life. My entire future. And for what? What did you even gain from this?"
I thought I had seen my mom angry before, but something shifted in her. Her eyes widened, and her face turned a deep shade of red. Now she snapped.
"You want to talk about ruining someone's life, August? You want to talk about what an extremely ungrateful little bitch you have been?" Her voice trembled with fury. "Let me remind you of something. I didn't ask you to drop everything to play the martyr! You think I wanted you here, suffocating me every damn day? You think I wanted your pathetic little pity, always hovering, pretending to be the perfect daughter you could never be?"
Her eyes burned with disdain. "You were supposed to listen to me, August. You were never supposed to go away to college. But you just had to leave, to start your own life. I've always known what was best for you. You needed me. You needed me to keep you in line. You think I wanted you out there, living your life, making your own decisions, finding your own way? No. That was never an option. You were always mine to control, always mine to mold into something that didn't abandon me, that didn't think for itself. You think you're some martyr? You're a pitiful fool. I had to keep you weak, keep you here, so you'd never leave me behind. But what do I get in return?"
Her words struck like daggers, and with every syllable, something inside me cracked. Her face twisted, her mouth spewing venom, but it all felt like it was coming from a place so deep I couldn't reach it. I couldn't reach her.
"You don't get it, do you?" she hissed. "You still don't understand why I did what I did. I didn't want to let you go. I was saving you from your own stupidity, saving you from having a life without me. I made you who you are, August. Without me, you'd be nothing. Everything I've ever done is to protect you from yourself. I did it to save you for eternal salvation."
Her words kept coming, but they were fading into white noise. My chest felt tight, like something was suffocating me from the inside. I could feel my knees starting to buckle under the weight of her words, the sting of her betrayal sinking deep into my skin, spreading through my veins. I didn't have the energy to fight back, didn't have the strength to scream at her for all the lies, for all the years she held me prisoner in this warped version of love.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and it felt like I was exhaling every ounce of hope I had left for her. "You didn't do it to protect me," I whispered, my voice shaky from holding tears that I refused to let fall. "You did it because you were losing control of me."
I turned away, unable to meet her eyes anymore, the pain too much to bear. It wasn't anger that swelled in me now it was just this… overwhelming sadness, the crushing weight of a truth I couldn't unhear.
"Mom," I whispered again, but this time, it felt like I was speaking to someone I no longer knew. "I don't even know who you are anymore."
"You're worthless to me now, August. Get out of my face."
Everything I had ever believed in, everything I had been taught to value, crumbled before my eyes. It shattered into a million jagged pieces tearing up every part of me. The tears came relentlessly, and I knew they weren't going to stop anytime soon.
I looked at her one last time, clinging to some fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a part of her that cared. But when our eyes met, I saw nothing. Nothing but the cold, empty gaze of someone I didn't know.
And then, just as I turned to leave, her voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Your father should've never been the one to die."
The words struck like a physical blow, knocking the breath from my lungs. My body went numb, but the pain, God, the pain—was unbearable. I wanted to scream, to cry, to disappear. But all I could do was stand there, frozen in place, as the final piece of my world collapsed around me.
My next few moves were done in a haze. I don't remember much of anything, just a blur of actions and noises, a sense of being detached from my own body. My hands moved mechanically, packing and grabbing at anything within reach. My thoughts were a scattered mess, too raw to comprehend. The world around me felt distant, like I was watching myself from the outside, unable to connect with what was happening in front of me.
Then Mallory appeared. Her presence was a small anchor in my chaos. She didn't ask any questions—she just helped, quietly and efficiently, gathering my things and loading them into our cars. I remember the steady rhythm of her movements, the softness of her voice as she tried to reassure me with simple words that barely registered. Her calm was the only thing that cut through the storm of confusion in my mind.
I couldn't even look at her, too consumed by the overwhelming numbness inside me. All I could do was let her guide me, trusting her to take over the parts of me that felt broken.
I don't know how a day that was supposed to be filled with excitement of finally turning 21, packing for the trip of a lifetime, turned into something so rotten. Riddled with hatred, manipulation, deceit. From the one person I was supposed to trust the most. How could someone be so cruel? Everything I thought I knew about love, about family, felt like a lie now. I'm in a new hell, a place I never thought I'd be, and it feels suffocating.
We finished packing both of our cars, the quiet almost was unbearable, the burden of it all pressing down on me with every movement. I don't even remember the drive. My brain was on autopilot, going through the motions, hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, while my soul felt completely detached, shredded, and lost. It was like I was no longer a part of my body. I was just… moving.
Every breath felt too heavy. Every thought felt too loud. The anger, the betrayal…it kept building and building, a pressure I couldn't release. I wanted to scream, to make sense of it all, but all I could do was drive. I felt empty, like I was being dragged through the motions of life while everything I thought I knew crumbled behind me.
When we finally made it to Mallory's parents' house, I felt the weight of everything that had happened crash down on me. The exhaustion, both physical and emotional, hit me all at once. I could feel every ounce of energy drain from my body, and before I even had a chance to process, my head fell onto the steering wheel. The sobs came first—a deep, raw cry that seemed to rip through me. Then the screams followed, intense and painful, as if they were the only way to expel everything I had been holding since I found out the truth.
I couldn't breathe. The tears flowed freely, mixing with the anger and confusion. I was trapped in this whirlwind of hurt and betrayal. I don't even remember how I ended up in Mallory's room or how I lay on her bed, curled up and broken. It felt like my world had flipped upside down in a matter of seconds.
My life, my sense of safety, my trust…they all flashed before me.
It was like watching everything slip through my fingers, each moment slithered away faster than I could hold on, all the while, my heart was being shredded with every passing second.
Mallory just held me through it all, letting me feel everything I needed to feel. At this point, she still didn't know everything that had happened, only what I'd managed to tell her between breathless sobs. But eventually, I started to regain some sense of clarity. We spent the next few hours dissecting everything…everything my mom could've lied about, every opportunity she'd taken to control me, every time I'd let her.
I had finally calmed down when we realized it was already late, and we'd have to wake up in three hours. Mallory offered me the option to stay behind, but in reality, I had nowhere else to go. My life had been burned to the ground, and all I wanted was to escape the ashes.
I closed my eyes, hoping for even a moment of peace, but it never came. The alarms blared through our phones too soon. My eyes, bloodshot and swollen, stung as I forced them open. I felt hollow, drained of everything I had left to give.
The shower was supposed to wake me up, to wash away the heaviness of last night, but nothing could touch the ache sitting in my chest. I told myself this wasn't real. It couldn't be real. There was no possible way my own mother had faked having cancer just to keep me under her control, to stop me from living my own life. The thought alone was too sick, too twisted—something straight out of a Ryan Murphy show. If everything she said was a lie then…then what was the truth? There was just no way my entire life was built on lies.
But the moment denial gave way, rage took its place. A nasty, venomous anger boiled beneath my skin. How dare she? How dare she manipulate me, make me sacrifice everything for her? How dare she rip apart my future and toss it aside like it was nothing? I clenched my fists under the water, my body trembling, my breath ragged. How dare she? I asked myself one more time but I couldn't come up with an answer. If not how, then why?
Why did she do this? There had to be a reason. A real reason. Maybe she thought she was protecting me. Maybe there was something I wasn't seeing, something only she could see.
Was I too naive? Too incapable of making my own choices? Had I given her a reason to think I needed to be controlled? Maybe if I had been stronger, more independent, she wouldn't have felt the need to intervene.
A fresh wave of nausea hit me. No. That wasn't it. That couldn't be it.
She wanted me to be dependent. She needed me to be weak, so I would never leave her.
The truth settled over me like a haunting I couldn't shake. No matter how I turned it over in my head, no matter how I tried to soften the edges, there was no justifying what she did. And if there was, she never gave me the chance to understand it.
I never knew she was capable of something so vile—to her own flesh and blood.
Her words echoed in my mind, poisoning every thought as I scrubbed my skin raw.
"Your father should've never been the one to die."
The stain of it clung to me, unrelenting and unforgiving.
I didn't know how to move on from this. I didn't know how to exist knowing my own mother wished me dead.
And maybe she was right. Maybe it shouldn't have been him. The sadness ripped through me, hollowing me out, leaving me bereft and reeling. The knot in my throat threatened to untangle, but the tears wouldn't come. I had nothing left to give. Only the wreckage of my life.
I sank onto the shower floor, the final stage of grief creeping in—acceptance. I couldn't change what had happened, but I could change what would.
I would never see her again. Not in this life. Not in the next.
Her unforgivable act could never be rectified, never excused. In a matter of moments, she had stolen everything from me. What my life could have been. What it should have been. My future, gone in an instant.
There was no going back. Only forward.
Hawaii was my fresh start, my escape into a future where she didn't exist. Where I no longer had to follow her twisted rules or suffocating beliefs. Where I never had to listen to the lies disguised as truths.
But if she raised me based on lies, then who actually am I?
The thought clawed at me, threatening to pull me under again. I could already feel myself starting to spiral, the weight of it pressing down on my chest. But I couldn't let it consume me, not now. Not when I was this close to leaving it all behind.
I took a deep breath, forcing the thought aside as I lifted myself off the shower floor. My body felt heavy, sluggish, but I pushed through, rinsing off the last remnants of my breakdown before stepping out.
Dressed in the comfiest clothes I could find, I barely had the energy to care about my appearance. I was about to spend an entire day traveling; comfort was all that mattered. As I opened the bathroom door, Mallory was waiting for me.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure everything was alright," she said softly, her lips forming a perfect pout, her brows knitting together in concern.
I gave her a weak nod. I didn't know when I would be okay, but for now, I would pretend.
Hawaii would be the beginning of a new chapter, a chapter I was forced into, but maybe, just maybe, it was a blessing in disguise. I wanted to leave all my problems here in Gig Harbor. Though I knew, deep down, it wouldn't be that easy.
When the car to the airport finally arrived, Mallory and I piled into the black SUV, as the driver loaded our luggage into the trunk. The engine hummed to life, and as we pulled away, I stared out the window, watching my old life disappear behind me.
We had one pit stop before the airport—to pick up Hunter, one of our coworkers from the design team. As we pulled up to his place, he was already outside, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, rocking back on his heels. Even though he was always dressed appropriately for work, something about him made it obvious that, left to his own devices, he'd be in baggy pants and a random graphic tee. Outside of work he looks exactly as I pictured him. His dirty blond hair, verging on brown, stuck out from under his cap, and a hint of peach fuzz lined his jaw. He had that effortless skater-bro persona very laid-back, always a little disheveled, but somehow pulling it off.
He spotted us and jogged over, tapping on the window before throwing his stuff into the trunk and then sliding into the car.
"Guess we're really doing this, huh?" Hunter said, flashing a lazy grin.
"Yes, we are!" Mallory beamed back at him, her million-dollar smile in full effect. I caught the way Hunter's posture shifted, just slightly, like he was trying not to look too obvious about how much he liked it. This was going to make for an interesting dynamic. I thought.
We made small talk on the way to the airport, Mallory effortlessly carrying the conversation while Hunter matched her energy. I chimed in when necessary, forcing out a laugh here and there, but my mind felt miles away. I tried to stay present, to focus on anything but my reality, but every time silence settled, even for a second, I felt the sting of tears threatening to spill. So I kept talking, kept nodding, kept pretending, anything to keep from falling apart again.
We finally arrived at the airport, the driver helping us unload our luggage before driving off. The cool very early morning air was crisp against my skin as we hauled our bags inside, stepping into the chaos of check-ins and security lines. The bright, artificial lights felt almost too harsh, the sounds of rolling suitcases and distant announcements blending into a dull hum around me.
Getting through TSA was its usual nightmare, shoes off, laptops out, liquids less than 3oz only, but somehow, we made it through without too much of a hassle. By the time we reached the first-class lounge, exhaustion was already pulling at me. The plush seating and quiet atmosphere were a stark contrast to the rest of the airport, and for the first time since waking up, I felt like I could breathe.
I set my stuff beside me, volunteering to watch our bags while Mallory and Hunter made their way to the bar. I could hear their voices in the distance, ordering drinks and laughing about something I couldn't bring myself to tune into. The idea of alcohol so early let alone my first drink ever, made my stomach twist. I wasn't sure I wanted to break that milestone here, in the middle of an airport, when my entire life had just been turned upside down.
With thoughts of my mom shoved so far down they barely registered, a different fear began to creep in…the flight. The anxiety of flying gnawed at me more than the words my mom had thrown at me the night before. It was irrational, I knew that, but the fear was rooted deep. And knowing Mallory wouldn't be sitting next to me only made it worse.
I glanced around, searching for a distraction, hoping to spot a familiar face, but the lounge was nearly empty except for us and the staff. I wasn't sure who else would be flying out with us besides Mallory and Hunter, since Dani and Marshall were already in Hawaii. Others were arriving Wednesday, and Erik would be flying in on Friday.
After I had finally calmed down last night, I called Erik to fill him in as best as I could without divulging too much. Truthfully, I didn't even know why I told him. Maybe I was just desperate for an extra anchor, clinging to whatever support I could find. And that's exactly what he gave me. He listened as I sobbed, offered quiet words of encouragement, and reassured me that, somehow, everything would work itself out. Whether I actually believed that… was another story.
But as I sat there, watching planes lift off and disappear into the sky, something inside me shifted. It wasn't fear. It wasn't anger. It wasn't sadness. It was something quieter, calm. A fragile, unfamiliar sense of peace settling inside me. I promised myself I would soak up every moment of this trip, take in everything it had to offer. My mother had stolen so much from me already. I wouldn't let her take this too. Not anymore.
Time seemed to slow as we waited for our boarding call. Mallory and Hunter were still at the bar, laughing and lost in conversation. Occasionally, I'd catch Mallory glancing at me, checking in without words. Each time, I offered her a small thumbs-up, just enough to ease her worry before she turned back to whatever nonsense Hunter was spinning.
Finally, our 5 a.m. boarding was called. Being in first class, we boarded first. Mallory and Hunter stepped onto the plane ahead of me, their energy light and easy, a stark contrast to the weight pressing down on my chest. I followed them, stepping into the dimly lit cabin where first-class seating was arranged in a two-seat configuration. It was spacious, almost like reclining couches. At least, if nothing else, I'd be comfortable for the next several hours, no matter who ended up beside me.
As people lined up behind me, I tucked my things into the overhead bin and sank into my seat, turning toward the window. In the quiet, with nothing left to distract me, my mother's voice slipped back in. But this time, it wasn't anger or betrayal that clenched my heart.
It was sadness.
Sadness for the woman who had so much hate inside her. Sadness that she would never see me thrive. Sadness that she could hurt me in a way I would never recover from.
The tears were inevitable.