One evening last month, I was FaceTiming with my dad. We don’t talk nearly as much as we should so we were getting caught up on each other’s lives. I was mostly telling him about Winnie and her school — about their field trip to the local fire station where Winnie fell in love; the hand, foot and mouth outbreak (I am gagging just thinking about it); and the dramatic day when she got sent to the “calm down corner” which I still haven’t heard the end of. Baby girl was not happy. My dad claims I was the same way as a small child and retold his favorite story of my own meltdown over a broken cookie. Which I personally don’t buy as I am one of the most reasonable people ever.

I’d just gotten back from the far too short, but incredible trip to Spain that I’d taken with Brendan and his parents so we talked about that too. I spent one full day dying from food poisoning in the hotel room — imagine my freak out when I woke up one morning vomiting. It turned out to be razor clams and nothing else and my dad thought this was hilarious.

Then my dad said, “So your mom has been drinking a lot lately.”

“Oh,” I said. This was nothing new to me — my mom has always been a very big drinker. It’s rare to find her without a drink in her hand. I’ve always naively thought nothing of it – It’s always just been the way it is. I mean, she and I would split bottles of Moscato when I was in high school and it was totally normal.

“She said she wants to slow down because she knows it’s been a little out of hand, but she thinks she might need professional help to do that,” he continued.

I didn’t say anything.

“The other night we went out to dinner and she could barely walk. I practically had to carry her to the car,” my dad said.

I burst into tears then. I don’t really know why. I always thought that yes, my mom drinks excessively, but she could control it. The thought of her not actually being able to and admitting that she needs help was so…sad. I just assumed she had a handle on things. I was thinking back to when I was force-feeding her espresso martinis, not knowing that she was literally fighting an addiction. I guess I should’ve known after the way they behaved the last time I was in Houston. I never thought one of my parents would be an alcoholic. My mother is an alcoholic.

“I know,” my dad said after letting me cry for a bit. “Hopefully she’ll be able to get the help she needs.”

It was so depressing. Every time I spoke to my dad, he just kept repeating the same sentiments. She’d go out with her friends and overdo it and my dad would have to go pick her up because she couldn’t walk. One night, my parents went out to a live show and she got hammered and actually got them kicked out of the venue. My dad was pissed.

Meanwhile, my mom was acting like everything was absolutely normal and perfect when I spoke to her. When I asked her about the concert situation, she downplayed it like my dad was exaggerating.

“You know how he is,” she said, brushing it off. “He loves a dramatic tale.”

She’s not wrong, to be fair, but my dad isn’t just going to make something up. I didn’t bring up all the stuff he told me, obviously, but kept asking her if she had anything new she wanted to share with me and leaving space for her to open up to me if she wanted to. But she never did.

Eventually I decided to take a trip back home to assess the situation myself. My dad was making it sound really bad and I imagined my mom was putting whiskey in her coffee and chugging Sutter Home minis like the people on Intervention. It became the only thing he wanted to talk about and I’d text him like, “How is she?” and my dad would say, “Not good.” But then my mom would talk to me like everything was normal. So I needed to go see how bad it truly was.

My mom was surprised by my impromptu visit, but she was happy nevertheless. She looked cute and put together — with wide leg jeans and fresh Botox. I was expecting a shitshow, especially since I surprised her. She looked absolutely fine to me. She made reservations for us to have dinner downtown, but my dad was preparing for a work conference so he couldn’t come.

We ordered pasta and a glass of wine each and I pretended not to be watching her intake. She wanted to talk about Brady because he’d been posting non-stop on Instagram like he just remembered his password or something. It’s mostly pictures of and with Caroline which my mom was happy to dissect with me.

“So is she Asian? She kind of looks like she could be Asian,” my mom said as we scrolled.

“I don’t know, but don’t forget she’s adopted,” I said.

“So she doesn’t wear much makeup, huh?” my mom pointed out. “She doesn’t need it.”

I was particularly annoyed by this comment considering my mom is always telling me that I’m not wearing enough makeup. I guess I’m absolutely hideous. I wonder who I get it from!

“I feel like he really, really likes her,” I said, which kind of pained me. “He won’t stop posting about her.”

“Maybe he’s doing it to get your attention,” my mom said conspiratorially.

Obviously that’s the first thing I thought too, but I said, “I feel like he’s been so much nicer since they started dating. I think he’s a lot happier with her than he was with me.”

“He seems confused,” she said with absolutely no evidence.

“About?”

“Everything, but certainly his relationship with you. He barely knows this Cara and he is probably hoping to get you back.”

I could not disagree more. What was she even talking about? We each ordered one more glass of wine, talked about Brendan (she asked which came as a shock since she doesn’t exactly like him) and how jealous I am about his current lifestyle. He’s not back at his company full time and just pops in whenever he feels like it. He hangs out with his dad a ton and they travel and tour historic NYC buildings and test drive new cars and etc. I want to do that with him! And then randomly, I’ll show up to a job site and Brendan’s Land Rover will be outside because he decided to grace us with his presence. I just want that carefree lifestyle. My mom was less than impressed by this and wanted to know where he gets money since he isn’t “working.” I’m like, I don’t exactly know lady, the same way other people with businesses do — which she in particular should know about since she used to partly own a business.

Anyway, we finished our wine and called an Uber to take us back to the house and I thought: this is fine. We each had the same amount to drink and my mom was able to handle moderation so what the fuck was my dad going on about? But then we got in the SUV to take us home and my mom pulled all these little bottles out of her purse and started mixing them in a bigger water bottle. Like a homemade cocktail kit or something. I have never seen her do that.

“Mom, what the fuck?” I couldn’t help exclaiming.

“Reese, watch your mouth!” she yelled at me, but continued mixing her little drink.

“Do you have a problem?” I asked.

My mom batted her eyelashes at me. “A problem with what, honey?”

“What even is that?” I gestured to the cloudy pink drink that she’d concocted which kind of looked like Pedialyte.

“Just something for the ride home. Is that okay with you?” she snapped.

That’s when I was like, yeah. We’ve got an issue. What’s it called — a “functioning alcoholic?” She’s not even always functioning, according to my dad. The fact that was bringing alcohol and whatever else around with her in her purse was such a major red flag.

I burst into tears in the back of the Uber and my mom didn’t say anything for a while. Then she was like, “What’s this about? Brady? Cara? Brendan?”

Ugh.

“No, this is about you! Dad said you’ve been drinking way too much and now I see what he means,” I said.

“That was months ago,” she explained. “I’ve got it under control now. I don’t know what your dad is talking about.”

“I’m sure he’s talking about this, Mom! This is weird,” I said.

“You’re overreacting,” my mom said calmly. “But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll put it away.”

It didn’t make me feel better, especially when we got back to the house and she transferred her little drink to a martini glass.

So yeah. That’s where my parents are at. After I left Houston, my mom started calling to chat more — possibly to prove to me that she’s fine and sober and doesn’t need help. And I feel bad for my dad for having to deal with her and her issues. My mom said that he’s been staying at work extra late and I’m like, “Wow, I wonder why!” And I feel bad for my mom too because I know addiction is an illness and she is not going to get treatment until she’s good and ready. And that woman is very stubborn. So we’ll see what happens. 

It was only a matter of time before Izzy started joining us for our Thursday-Friday happy hours. It started as a thing Brendan, Miguel and I did (and sometimes Paige, last year) and then Gigi invited herself a few times and now Brendan was out and Izzy was in. She walked in still hitting her vape so I was instantly annoyed by that.

“Is that my shirt, you fucking bitch?” Gigi greeted her.

Izzy looked down at her basic ass cropped white tee and shrugged.

Is that how y’all talk to your sisters/siblings? A few years ago, my friend Kendra lectured me because I playfully called her a bitch over text message. She was like, “I can’t believe you still speak like this. It’s so disrespectful and unnecessary — grow up.”

I was like, huh??? We’ve always jokingly called each other names in our 20+ year friendship, like it was completely normal? She’s always adulted differently than me and I thought she was once again being uptight and ridiculous. But hearing the derogatory way Gigi and Izzy speak to each other is so jarring and…perhaps I’m getting old but I can totally see what Kendra meant. If even I am clutching my pearls then it must be extreme.

I had every intention of grabbing my things and dipping out (there’s only so much of Gigi and Izzy’s squawking one can take), but Miguel begged me to stay for one more drink. I agreed — mainly because I felt bad about leaving Miguel alone with them knowing how annoying and exhausting they are. He’s the one who hired them both so he really shouldn’t be annoyed, but I still felt bad.

Several hours later, I was still sitting there with a spicy margarita in front of me. Admittedly, Gigi and Izzy were annoying me a lot less than expected and I was kind of entertained hearing about bad decisions other than my own. Most of Izzy’s stories involved recreational drug use and sex that didn’t sound 100% consensual. Total pick-me energy. 

She said, “So yeah, we were in LA and tripping bad on molly. I had been hanging out with this producer guy and we all went back to his mansion. He had been telling me he wanted to fuck me all night so I was down for it. And I was pretty much blacked out at that point. We started fucking in his bedroom and his friend came in and put his dick in my mouth. He was hot so I didn’t care, but I was like ‘what is happening??’”

I was like, “Oh. That’s not…great.”

I’m not sheltered at all or anything but I’m always so surprised by people’s casual drug use. It’s just not something my friends and I were ever into. I remember finding out that Brady is a stoner and being so surprised by that because I’ve never even properly smoked weed — not even in high school (nope, too busy giving out hand jobs at football games). There’s no real reason why either — I think I’ve always just been afraid of not having control of my body or actions. Which is crazy considering I drink like a fish which I’m sure some would argue is just as bad.

At this point in the evening, Izzy was standing up next to Miguel in his chair and she was reaching over him to eat the French fries and wings off the plate in front of him. And Miguel had his arm around her waist (which is the move he does right before exchanging numbers/Instagram names with some random happy hour whore). They started going back and forth about Izzy tagging along with Miguel to Queens for something. And I know this is petty, but Miguel said I’m not his type, but Izzy is? Don’t get me wrong, she’s a cute girl but she’s so loud and usually always wrong. And she’s 23. And her lips are overfilled. And her false eyelashes make her look trashy.

“If you want to come with me, you have to finish your drink,” Miguel said.

“I am, I am!” Izzy said.

She still had an almost full glass of some basic girl cocktail (vodka soda with lemon I think) and then when the server came by, Miguel ordered another round for the table.

“Not me, I’m leaving,” I said.

“Already? But whyyyy?” Izzy whined.

“Because I have a child,” I said, which always gets me out of situations with these people.

“K!” Gigi and Izzy exclaimed.

“I think I owe you an email, Reese,” Miguel said. At this point Izzy was glued to his side and had an arm wrapped around his neck. “So if I don’t get it to you tonight, I’ll send it in the morning.”

I was thinking, “Wow, he’s gonna fuck her, isn’t he?” How messy. Don’t shit where you eat! Couldn’t he at least wait until she’d been working there for longer than a few weeks?

“I’m going to need it tonight,” I said, even though I didn’t.

Miguel and Jasmine can do whatever they want in their relationship, I honestly don’t really care, but after all the troublesome stories Izzy had been telling us, Miguel hooking up with her felt particularly gross.

On my way out I texted Jasmine, “Miguel is not behaving!” I had to do something.

Jasmine replied, “Ugh!” but didn’t ask for any details or for me to elaborate. So I didn’t. I was like, this isn’t my business, I’m going to forget this happened and move on with my life. But I was definitely looking at Miguel differently.

And I completely forgot about it as planned until the next morning when Gigi texted our group (I’m for some reason in a group chat with the sisters) and said, “Bitch, are you almost home?”

Izzy said, “Yes, but I’m going to need to stop at Duane Reed 🫣”

Gigi said, “Ugh, you’re such a hoe!”

So wait. If I were following this story correctly, Miguel and Izzy had gone to Queens together after happy hour to do God knows what and now she needed to go to the pharmacy? I hated all of this.

Anyway, I am so overwhelmed by everything I have to tell y’all. Life has been crazy. I guess I’ll just start with Labor Day weekend where I had plans to go to Brendan’s family cabin with him and his family. Brady was supposed to have Winnie that weekend, but a week before he texted me to say that his plans had changed and would it be okay if she stayed with me? Of course I was more than fine with this — I hardly ever get to spend holidays with my baby. I would have to back out of the cabin trip though because as far as I was concerned this was an adults only trip and Winnie wouldn’t even have anything to do while we’re there. But Brendan insisted we both come and that it would be “so fun.” Brendan and Winnie are super close and love each other so I’m not surprised he wanted her to come with us, but I was worried because Winnie hasn’t spent any significant amount of time with Brendan’s family and what if she was annoying or acted like a brat or threw tantrums the entire time? She’s just a child of course so all of this is normal, but there is no one her age in Brendan’s immediate family so I was hyper aware that no one would be used to it.

But it turns out, I was worried about nothing and the cabin trip was absolutely fine. Winnie took an immediate liking to Brendan’s dad (who’s surprised?) and followed him around the cabin to see all the stuff he was doing. And Margo made a comment about how she was surprised at how well-behaved Winnie was being (I always tell her stories of Winnie misbehaving). I was like, yeah same. The internet connection and iPad definitely helped too.

The only issue I had was one evening Brendan and Winnie were sitting on the couch watching YouTube videos together and they looked so fucking cute. My sweet little babies! I love them so much. I got up to take a picture of the scene and Brendan’s sister Danielle, who had arrived separately to the cabin a few hours earlier and hadn’t said a word to me, came up beside me and said, “Aww, Brendan, you can add this to your Hinge profile!”

She was obviously joking, but it wasn’t even funny and at my expense? What’s her problem? I’ve come to terms that Danielle and I will never be friends, but still, it was uncalled for. Couldn’t she at least pretend she didn’t wish Brendan was still with his bitchy ex-wife? I turned and gave her a look — the same kinda look Jada Pinkett Smith gave Chris Rock right before Will Smith went on stage and slapped him, what a moment in time — but I was not about to give her the satisfaction of a big reaction. She’s such a bitch. Like Brendan would ever even be on a dating app!

I didn’t think Brendan even heard her and was mostly just curious to see how the picture turned out (adorable, ofc). And Danielle fucked off after that and didn’t interact with me or Winnie for the rest of the evening. I think Brendan has realized that me and his sister don’t get along as well and he doesn’t try to force it.

However. The next morning we all sat outside on the deck and ate the beautiful breakfast spread Margo put together. Afterwards, I was in the kitchen alone, minding my own business, and Danielle came in and cornered me. Mind you, she hadn’t spoken a word to me since arriving.

“Heyyy,” she said to me.

“Hi,” I said back.

“I wanted to apologize for my joke yesterday. I hope you know I wasn’t being serious,” Danielle said.

“Oh, it was a joke?” I said because aren’t jokes supposed to be like, funny?

“Yeah. I was being funny.”

Fascinating! “Oh.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t trying to offend you.”

“Okay. I wasn’t offended,” I lied. What was I supposed to say? Obviously Brendan sent her to apologize because he didn’t want there to be any tension. I was happy to pretend everything was fine and go back to ignoring each other.

“Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure,” Danielle said.

“K,” I said and that was that.

Sorry this is so short, but I’ll be back soon. I have so much to tell you about my mom, Brady, Cara and Winnie.