Soon Steph and I are curled up on the couch together, blasting Fleetwood Mac and chatting about everything under the sun. I know I’ll feel like shit in the morning, but right now I feel happy.

My phone dings with a text, plucking me from my bliss. It’s Bo again. No response? What kind of mom doesn’t respond to that?

Bo isn’t typically confrontational. He is normally sweet, a good boy. He’s been distant in the past few years, but never aggressive.

“What’s up with my baby angel?” Steph asks. “We should FaceTime him. He’s probably on the devil’s sugar too.” She giggles.

“I don’t want to bother him,” I say.

“What’s going on, Dawn?”

“Nothing. Let’s do another line.”

Pierre runs over to the lines, and I pull him on my lap. “Could you imagine what Beth would say if we got Pierre high on cocaine?”

“What’s going on, Dawn?” Steph repeats.

I snort the line. “Remember when you had that dream about me finding Bo’s father’s driver’s license and him being your neighbor?”

“Yeah,” Steph says. “That was crazy.”

“It wasn’t a dream, Steph,” I say. “I really found his driver’s license. And he really is your neighbor. And since then, Bo found out about him. And he just texted me that they met.”

“Oh my god,” Steph says. “This is a lot.”

Telling her was a mistake. My instinct was correct. Steph is too much like me. She is a party girl. She doesn’t know how to handle serious things.

“How did Bo find out?”

“ChromoZone,” I say. I’ve thrown a lot of information at Steph. I’m not about to tell her that Bo accidentally slept with his sister. I am the worst mom in the entire world.

I do another line.

“Oh god, Dawn,” she says. She starts petting my hair, which is the only way either of us knows how to show emotional support. “What did you say when he told you?”

“Nothing,” I say, feeling horrible. “Nothing yet.” I start crying.

“Aw, Dawn.” Steph wraps me in her arms. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. But don’t beat yourself up. You’ve been a great mom to Bo.”

“No, I haven’t,” I cry. “I’ve been horrible.” I’ve never said this out loud before or even to myself. “He texted me that he met his dad, and I didn’t even respond. I just got high on cocaine.”

“It’s okay, Dawn,” Steph says. “This is all a lot to handle.”

“I’ve lied to him his entire life.” I am still crying.

“It’s okay, Dawnie,” she says. “You’ve done the best you could.”

“I’m a piece of shit,” I say.

And then I snort another line.

EMILY.