Catching a Fallen Starr

by Adriana Law

  “What’s the name,” she asked me, ignoring Sterling’s gapping mouth.

  I forced out my full name.

  “Address?”

  I tensed and gritted my teeth as another bout of pain squeezed my belly. It hurt worse when the clots passed. There was no mistaking them. I knew it was bad, but I wasn’t fully ready to accept the full magnitude of the emotional pain and loss I would endure because of it.

  “Christ, Lady,” Sterling shouted, “Have a heart!”

  “Does she have insurance?”

  “Does it matter? The bill will get paid. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  “I still need her information for her chart, Sir.”

  Sterling reached across the desk and snatched her clipboard and a pen, stashing them on my lap. “Let’s go,” he told the woman. “You see to her needs first…then I’ll fill out your stupid fucking papers.”

  “Who are you? Boyfriend or husband?”

  “Neither,” I told her.

  The woman appeared delighted. “Well, since you—”

  “Screw this,” Sterling snapped. His grip tightened on the wheel chair and he headed for the double doors leading to the emergency room.

  “You can’t go back there, Sir,” the woman yelled, tailing us.

  The double doors opened and then a nurse was wrenching the wheel chair out of Sterling’s hands. The nurse didn’t turn me around like I’d expected, instead she pushed me into one of the examining rooms.

  The examining room was the size of a prison cell. Once inside the woman jerked the curtain separating us from the activity going on out in the hallway. “Sit,” she told Sterling pointing at a chair over in the corner out of the way. “Stay there until I give you permission to move.”

  For the first time all day, I laughed, and then cringed. “It hurts!”

  “I know, sweetie, we’re going to make you feel better,” the nurse said, her expression softening. “Let’s get you up here in the bed where you can lie down.” She pulled over a table with a computer and took the papers Sterling swiped off my lap placing them out of the way. She took hold of my arm helping me lift up out of the chair. Carefully she positioned me in the stiff hospital bed.

  I winced as she raised the head of the bed until I was slightly sitting.

  “Is that okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re going to need to get you undressed from the waist down so the doctor can check you out.”

  Sterling shut his eyes and turned his head while I stripped and the woman draped a sheet over my nudity. “The doctor will be in a few minutes,” she said patting my trembling knee.

  As soon as she stepped beyond the curtain Sterling came to stand next to the bed. He reached for my hand, twining our fingers. Exhaling a long breath I glanced down at where our hands were joined, the briar tattoos on our wrist identical.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said, placing a kiss on my forehead.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “No, it’s not. You and I both know it’s not going to be okay.”

  A hand pulled aside the curtain and then the whole man appeared; mid-forties, dark wavy hair, wire-rimmed glasses and a kind smile. “I’m doctor Silverman,” he extended a hand to me first, then Sterling.

  A nurse stepped into the room after him, a room that was becoming smaller and smaller by the minute. Did it really require so many people to tell me what I already knew?

  “Let’s take a look,” the doctor said, pulling back the sheet.

  Sterling averted his eyes toward the ceiling. His hand squeezed mine when I whined from the doctor mashing on my lower belly.

  “Bend your legs for me,” the doctor instructed. “Now. Relax. Deep breath.” He slipped a couple of fingers into my vagina and I too averted my eyes up at the ceiling, tears welling up and escaping. My back slid up the mattress when the doctor went deeper and I swear he should have been able to grab hold of my tonsils from where he was at. I wiped tears away with the back of my hand. Thank God! His hand was gone along with the intense pressure.

  “Let’s get an IV started,” Dr. Silverman told the nurse who immediately went around to the side Sterling wasn’t standing on and started doing what the doctor asked. Something about a D&C was mentioned.

  I zoned out.

  Numb.

  Heart broken and confused.

  Mostly I was angry. Angry about so much.

  “We’re going to start you on an antibiotic and some pain medicine.”

  “The baby?” I choked out, my gaze connecting with Dr. Silverman’s.

  He shook his head. “I’m really sorry.” Rubber gloves snapped as he removed the bloody gloves turning them inside out. He stepped on the lever to open the trash can, tossing the gloves inside. “I know this doesn’t make it any better, but it does happen. It’s not your fault. There is no reason you two can’t try again later,” he said offering Sterling a sympathetic look as well.

  The doctor squeezed my shoulder. He and the nurse left me and Sterling alone.

  The tiny room got smaller.

  And smaller.

  And smaller.

  My heart not only raced…it ached.

  I removed my hand from Sterling’s.

  He sighed, “Starr—”

  “Leave,” I said, rolling away from him, curling up on my side. I stared at the IV connected to my arm, telling him, “I want you to leave.”

  I was hollow.

  Empty.

  It was my own fault. And Sterling’s.

  I said, “You’re the last person I want to see right now.”

  “Whatever.”

  He left me completely and utterly alone like I asked. I pulled my knees toward my chest and sobbed, clutching the stiff sheets to my chin. I wanted my daddy. I wanted my mommy. Maybe they could make the hurt and shame go away. But I hadn’t seen them in a while. I’d pushed them away like everyone else in my life.

  “Ow!”I say when Dr. Rodgers hits another bruised spot. Sawyer is immediately up out of the chair. “I should go,” he says.

  “I don’t want to be alone. Please, don’t go. Not yet.”

  He hovers. Torn between staying and going.

  You found me so that makes you responsible for me.

  I can pull an incredible distraught look whenever I want to, eventually Sawyer caves; coming to stand near the bed. He picks up my hand and firmly holds it in his. I’m not just playing games. It’s the truth. As much as I don’t want to admit it: I don’t want to be alone. Not now. Not after. I want Mattie here. Something about Sawyer’s steadfast strength makes me feel not so weak, not so desperate. I feed off of him. Like an emotional vampire: sucking away at his carefully maintained control. Definitely not one of my finest moments groveling for him to stay by my side. I’m sure he’s thrilled to see me so complacent. It’s the first time I am not popping off my mouth at him.

  You found me so that makes you responsible for me.

  I think I’m making him uncomfortable. I am making me uncomfortable.

  My flesh crawls over my aching bones. I really need something to curb the urge to use. What I need is a prescription for pain. Something strong enough to numb the burn in my gut. “You may have a cracked rib,” Dr. Rodgers says. Halleluiah woman! Now, give me some damn drugs! “We won’t know until we take an X-ray,” she says.

  “Can I have something for the pain?” As she’s looking at me I add, “Like now.”

  She sighs and shakes her head. “I can’t give you anything and you know it.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do…suffer? You’re a doctor. That’s what they do, they PRESCRIBE.””

  “I can give you something for pain that is non-addicting.”

  “Yay!” I cheer. “The good stuff.” That’s like telling a kid addicted to sugary soda that he only gets water from now on. I glance up at Sawyer. Yeah. I am making him very uncomfortable. He has the forced I-am-here-to-support-you face. One hand is in his pocket, the other holding my hand. His palm is ext
ra sweaty. I bet he is rethinking taking my father’s money. I bet he is rethinking ever agreeing to come find me. I don’t feel bad for him. My head lulls in the doctor’s direction. “Can you at least give me a prescription for Suboxone?”

  So I can sell them to get better drugs.

  “Listen Mya, I’m just going to lay my recommendations out on the table. What I am going to suggest may sound a little unorthodox. But I have seen great results so at least hear me out. Every drug that goes into your system is a toxin that pollutes your body. After so long the toxins affect your health, your organs, your quality of life... studies have shown that upping your intake of water and adding a good supplement can majorly reduce the side effects you feel during the detox process.”

  See. She wants to give me water! My gaze narrows on the doctor, “You’re not going to give me anything, are you?”

  “At least listen to her,” Sawyers says.

  Pushing my head back into the stiff pillow I inhale a deep painful breath. My heart races inside my chest. They are really considering watching me suffer. That’s easy. When it’s not you. “You’re not inside my body,” I tell Sawyer. “You don’t know how I feel.” Tears run from the corners of my eyes. He squeezes my hand, and my eyes go to his instantly. If I whine really hard there’s still a chance I may get my way. “I’m not kidding,” I whine. “Have you ever seen me like this? No. You haven’t. Tell her…tell the doctor how I am really freaking you out right now because you know me, and this is not me.”

  “Mya—”

  “I would not let YOU stay in this room if I wasn’t desperate. Make her at least give me Suboxone.”

  Sawyer clears his throat. “I agree with her,” he tells me. “You don’t need the Suboxone. You can do it on your own.”

  My eyes stay locked with Sawyer’s. “Have you ever had to kick a drug addiction...yeah, that’s what I thought so don’t go trying to tell me how easy it is. You don’t know.”

  “I can imagine.” His cheeks are turning –embarrass-my-ass-red. He has to at least care what happens to me or he wouldn’t be standing here right now. He would have said: screw you, see you around.

  I cut the whiny shit and move on to threats. “I swear to God if I leave here feeling like I feel now,” I tell Sawyer, “I’m am going to use. I am going to find a way to get the drugs.”

  His voice lowers. “At least try,” he says. I yank my hand out of his and turn on my side facing Dr. Rodgers. She immediately resumes her sales pitch. “I can prescribe you Suboxone to help wan your cravings,” she says. “But at the end of the day, it’s just another drug you will eventually have to come off of.”

  “Two against one,” I mumble. “How nice.”

  “We want to see you well, Sweetie.” She lays a hand on my arm, her tone like she’s talking to a crying child that she has to soothe. “Why don’t we work on getting you clean and keeping you that way?”

  “So you want to hydrate me and pump me full of vitamins. That’s your brilliant plan? Water?”

  “Whenever an overdose comes in, one of the first things we do is start an IV to flush the patient's system. It’s proven, hydration works, so yes that is exactly what I want to do. Preferably we would have started this regimen two weeks prior to you coming off the opiates, but why don’t we start now and get you feeling better? I’m not saying it won’t be tough, but trust me…this is the right way to go.”

  I glance over a shoulder. Sawyer is still there. The doctor notices where my attention has wandered and asks Sawyer if he minds stepping outside while she exams me. She doesn’t say it, but “externally” is implied.

  “No problem. I have to be at work in less than an hour anyways.” He heads straight for the door, or in this case…the curtain. He pauses and speaks to me although he doesn’t look me in the eyes. “I called your father,” he tells me. “He should be here soon.”

  Like that is going to do a damn bit of good.

  My father wasn’t there before. He’ll only half-heartily be here now.

  “You’ve completed your task,” I tell Sawyer. “I’m safely home now, and hydrating. Go back to whatever you were doing before my father interrupted you with our little family crisis.”

  I’m great at guilt trips. That’s one thing I have mastered.

  ***

  I go to see Mattie. Standing outside her hospital room I shake my hands and arms to release the tension, preparing myself for all the emotion I’m certain will come from seeing her finally out and safe.

  She faces away from the door and at the sound of it opening, she glances over a shoulder, gives me a once over before returning to how she was when I first came in. No smile. No “hi, I’m glad to see you.” Just a cold dead stare before fully giving me her back. I take her solemn look to mean she is depressed. Me too. We can help each other.

  Mattie sighs.

  “Doctor says you get out of here tomorrow.” I rub my upper arms and take a seat in the chair in the corner of the room. “He says you were pretty banged up, but nothing serious. They wanted to make sure; that’s all.” I sit stiffly on the edge of the chair. “My dad came to see me. I stayed at his house last night. It was weird and uncomfortable being around his fourteen-year-old daughter. She is the totally opposite of us.”

  I keep going wanting to cheer her up and give her hope. I’m nervous. I don’t know why. It’s just Mattie, but I haven’t seen her since the blindfold incidence, and even though I shouldn’t feel guilty, I do. I should have gotten her out of there sooner.

  “Anyways.” I clasp my hands on my lap; my eyes narrowed on her. “I can’t live there with my father. Not after all that’s happened. I’m thinking apartment. The two of us. Think we can manage?”

  “Are you fucking serious?” Mattie rolls to her back and glares over at me.

  “I know the drug thing is going to be a challenge,” I stutter out, floored by her reaction. “But we can help each other through it.”

  “What…and sing cum-ba-ya?” She jabs a finger at the button to raise the head of her bed. “Did you ever think maybe I was happy where I was?”

  I snort. “Being a whore?”

  “I had a family.”

  “I’m your family.”

  “No. You are not. You sold me out for a handsome face.”

  “I did not.” Mattie’s being ridiculous.

  “A GUY! You turned on me the first opportunity that came along!”

  My voice spikes. “I’m the only one that cares about you!”

  She huffs. “You only care about yourself. That was made very apparent when you went behind Ricin’s back and double-crossed him with the PIG.”

  “He’s a cop. Not a pig. And I didn’t tell Sawyer shit. Before yesterday, I hadn’t seen him in over two years.”

  “You saw him at the truck stop.”

  “And I stayed AWAY from him, because that’s what you told me to do.”

  “You hooked up with him and ratted us out.”

  “Mattie, I thought you were dead! I thought they’d killed you for sure!! It was the most horrible feeling. I never want to feel like that again. Never.”

  “I’m still here,” she says. “Thanks to you…I am still here!”

  I’m shaking. I can’t believe this is happening. Mattie’s is so twisted from Ricin’s influence. To avoid losing it and saying things I’ll regret I focus on my hands, telling her, “Those men could have killed you, and he did nothing. He stood back and watched. If we’re truly his then he could have protected us. We are no more valuable to him then his fancy sports car. Hell, I’m sorry… I think he cares more about that damn car. If someone ever pissed on a tire…” I shake my head. “…never mind.”

  “Ricin will get out and when he does…he will come for me.” She sneers. “But you…he’s not going to be happy with.” She pauses, her green eyes full of tears, her words venomous, “I pity you, Starr.”

  “Okay,” I stand and walk to the door discreetly wiping a tear from my cheek before looking back at her. “If yo
u ever change your mind. Find me.”

  Opening the door I’m about to walk out when her words stop me cold in my tracks, “Does your “cop” friend know how much of a manipulating bitch you are? How you’ll do just about anything to get what you want?”

  “I don’t have what I want, Mattie.” I shake my head. “Not even close.”

  ***

  “You have blue streaks in your hair,” Casey observes.

  “Oh my God!” I fake-squeal, holding up a clump of my hair and looking hard at it. “How the hell did that get in there?

  Casey cracks up. A real belly laugh. The girl is cute. I’ll give her that. “I think its super cool,” she says flopping down on the edge of the bed. “What do your tattoos mean?”

  “They don’t mean anything?” STEP-Mother snaps.

  I give Casey a tight-lipped smile while dropping my stuff on the floor by the closet. STEP-mother scrunches up her nose from where she is hovering in the doorway with my father. When I sit down next to Casey on a worn-out sigh she reaches out and runs her fingertips down a blue piece coming from the underneath. “Can I put blue in my hair,” she asks her mother.

  “Um…how about…not in the lifetime,” STEP-mother looks nervously at my father. Then she is shooing Casey out of the room, steering her away from being anywhere near me and my funky-ass-dyed hair. “Time for homework. You have school tomorrow.” She shoots my father a furious look on her way out the door.

  My father stands there with his hands in his pockets after they’re gone. He doesn’t say anything, he just stares. What is there to say? Here I am. I look around at the Pepto-Bismol-pink bedroom. This is totally NOT me. “Personally,” I say. “I think Casey’s hair would look awesome with pink streaks. It would match her complexion better than blue.”

  “Don’t let Belinda hear you say shit like that.”

  “I won’t.” Belinda. Ugh. I notice my father is never himself around Belinda. I wonder what that’s like. Living a lie. Yes dear. I love you dear. Here’s my nuts, dear. I don’t need ‘em for anything.