by Mary Smith
“I thought he was getting help.” Alden questions.
“He is. Apparently, it’s not working.” Beck slaps his thighs as he stands up. “Again.” He pushes his way through the small crowd that has gathered.
“Leave him be.” Bax mumbles. “Bas will wake up soon. This has happened before. We just hoped he…we thought…” He trails off, simply shaking his head.
“Erin.” Cabel sits down next to me. He leans in close to my ear. “Do you want me to call Caryn?”
I’m sure Bas has talked to Cabel a lot about his therapy sessions. They are close so obviously he knows his therapist’s name and number. “Please.”
He nods, leaving my side, I assume to move to a more secluded corner.
I take a few deep breaths and try to listen to everyone who keeps speaking with me. I’m certain they’re saying nice things about Bas and comforting words to me, but it sounds like blah, blah, blah. Their hearts are in the right place because they’re his friends…no, family, but I want to see Bas. My two eyes need to see his face. My two hands need to feel his hands. My lips need to touch his. I need to be with Bas.
My Bas.
We just started getting back to the way we first were. Friends but more. Much more. I love him.
“Erin?” Bax touches my hand.
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
I nod. I don’t know anything right now.
“Do you want some water?”
“No, I’m fine.” Even though my throat is on fire, I don’t think I can handle it.
“Zorn family?”
The entire waiting room becomes silent and faces the nurse who stands a few yards from me.
“Yes.” Bax goes to her. “Is Bas okay?”
“He’s asking for Erin,” the nurse says.
Bax seems shocked and disappointed but then nods. “Tell him we’re here too.” He lightly touches my arm as he goes back and sits down.
“Follow me.” The nurse kindly smiles and my feet begin to move as she goes down the hall. “He’s on the third floor, room three ten.” She stops at the elevator.
“Thank you.”
As the doors open on the third floor, I quickly scan the signs on the wall for his room number and head in the right direction. I reach his door. Three ten. I know I should be rushing in, but I stop.
On the other side of this door is Bas. The man I love. The broken man I love. I want to be there for him, just like I’ve always been. But am I strong enough? Can I be the rock and conscience for someone who is broken? This broken.
Pushing the door open, I release the breath I’m holding when I see him on the bed. He’s breathing because I watch his chest move up and down, slowly. Taking a few steps closer his head moves and his brown eyes stare into mine.
“What did you do?” His naturally deep voice sounds gruffer.
He’s mad?
“What do you mean?”
“The doctor said I could have died.” His jaw ticks with rage.
Wait. He’s mad at me?
“Yes you could’ve died. I called 911 and got you help.” I reach for his hand, but he jerks it away before I can interlock our fingers.
“I can’t believe you.” Tears fill his eyes.
“Wait? You’re mad because I called for help?” I have to be wrong. I must be hearing things. He can’t possibly be mad for what I did.
“Get out. Get out and tell my brothers to leave as well. I don’t need any of you.”
He turns away from me. I stand there—frozen in place. Am I having some sort of out of body experience? This isn’t Bas. Not the man I know. Not the man I love. He’d never want to kill himself. No way.
“Bas.” I try to plead with him.
He says nothing.
I know he needs time to cool off. That’s what he needs right now. Slowly, I turn away from him—with a tear rolling down my cheek—and leave his hospital room.
Chapter Thirteen
Bas
I hurt.
Everything hurts. I’m thankful the nurse shut the blinds. There’s no light outside, but I don’t want to see the world. I’m over this life.
O. V. E. R.
The door opens, but there’s no reason to check to see who it is because I don’t fucking give a shit.
“You’re a wanker.”
Beck’s voice fills the room. I still don’t look at him.
“You’ve gone and fucking tried to knock yourself off, eh?” He moves in front of me. I keep my eyes cast down.
“What is it, Bas? What is it in your big, fucking, empty head that tells you to drink yourself to death?”
There’s the brother I know so well. Mr. Alpha. Mr. Asshole. Mr. I’m-Better-Than-You.
“Tell me,” he yells.
I ignore him still.
“You fuck.” He gets right in front of my face. “If you want to die, then fine, fucking die.” He leaves the room and thankfully, I’m alone again. His words still ring in my ears. He’s right. I want to die. The pain is too much. I only hurt everyone I come in contact with and look at me now.
The nurse checks my vitals and raises my bed until I’m in a sitting position. She turns the telly on but it’s all white noise to me. I stare at the draped windows. She was going to open them but stopped herself remembering how I begged her to shut them.
They are ugly drapes. The worst shade of beige ever created, then someone turned it into a plaid check-like pattern. I’m counting the squares to keep my mind busy. There’s nothing else to do. Well, I keep thinking of drinking or at least a way to get some up here to me.
Erin.
I close my eyes from the pain of thinking about her beautiful face. The nurse told me a friend called 911. I knew it had to be her. She’s the only person who cares about me. Not now.
I knew what I had been doing. I made sure to drink as much as I could chug. I remember drinking a full bottle of vodka, opening a second and finishing most of it, and then…nothing.
My plan had been to end my life. Beck had spoken the truth during our fight. I’m worthless. I have no future. My life is over. Hell, have I ever had a life since my parents died? I had hockey for a while but not anymore.
“Hey, England.”
I look at Cabel walking into my room.
“How are you, kid?” He sits in the chair on my right.
I don’t say anything.
“Bas.” He leans in, and I try to remember the last time he used my real name. “Talk to me.”
Shrugging, I remain silent.
“Come on, kid. You and I go way back. Do you recall the first time we met?”
I look at him, still keeping my mouth shut tight.
“It was right after you were drafted and Oliver brought you up to meet some of us.”
It’s strange to have team members at a draft, but everyone knows the Bears are…family.
“I introduced myself to you, and you were as nervous as a new kid in school.”
I nod as the memory comes flooding back. I had been vibrating as Oliver took me to the private room where some Bears members were waiting. Cabel came up to me first.
“Anyway, I felt we became fast friends. It’s why I offered for you to stay at my house. I not only did it because you were a teammate, I did it because we were friends.” He pauses and then sighs. “You can call on me for everything and anything. I will be there for you. No matter what.”
I can’t listen to another word. “Please go away, Pops.”
“Bas—”
“Now. Get out now.” I roll over to my side—carefully because of my IV—and wait for him to leave.
He continues to sit in the chair for several seconds before saying, “Bas, I’m here for you.”
I hear the chair scuff against the floor, and then the door closes. I maneuver onto my back again and go back to counting the squares on the drapes.
Food at a hospital is the grossest food ever created. It makes me miss Erin’s cooking. I try pushing her out of my mind, but I
can’t because she won’t leave it.
“You haven’t touched your plate.” Bax is still sitting in the chair.
“I told you to leave.” I growl.
“And yet, I’m still here.” He removes the cover off the food, and it makes my stomach roll. “I know you didn’t eat breakfast because the nurses told me. The doctors won’t release you until you eat.”
“Not hungry.”
“You’re a shit. You haven’t eaten since you were with your mates. Yesterday.” He pushes the tray closer to me.
I clench my fists. “Bax, go the fuck away.”
“I’m not leaving you, Bas. You can’t push me away like you have everyone else. Beck already told me he’s not coming back to see you and never speaking to you either.” He leans closer to my bed. “You can’t push us all away. We’re not ever going to leave you.”
I scoff. “Fuck off, Bax.” I straighten up, sitting taller. “I don’t need you or anyone else.”
Bax opens his mouth but I stop him before he goes on rambling some more.
“You have always been overly sensitive, Bax. You’re a fucking ball of girly-girl emotions, and you’re driving me insane. I hate you. I hate Beck. As far as I’m concerned, I have no family, no friends, no one but me.”
I glare at him, giving him the meanest face I can muster, then continue. “Go the fuck away and never come back.” I watch my brother’s face turn from concern to hurt to anger.
Slowly he rises to his feet. “Fine, Bas. If this is what you want, then you can have it.” He makes his way to the door but stops just short of it. “Remember one thing, you had people who loved you.”
With that last word, he leaves the room.
I don’t eat any of the disgusting food before the worker comes in and takes the tray away. The white noise of the telly seems to catch my attention from time-to-time, but the drapes capture it the longest time.
“Kicking everyone out of your life today. Are you exhausted?”
I close my eyes as if I’m in physical pain. “Hey, Caryn,” I mutter.
She takes a seat next to my bed. “So, I asked if you’re exhausted.”
Normally, Caryn is professionally dressed at the office. She seems to come right off the fashion magazines. Today, her red hair is high in a ponytail, and she’s wearing jeans and a Bears hoodie. I’m not even sure if she’s wearing makeup.
“I’m fine.”
“Tsk. Tsk.” She clicks her tongue.
I wince. “Damn. I mean, I’m okay.”
“Nope.” She crosses her arms. “I want you to talk to me. Right now.”
I sigh.
“Come on, Bas. Tell me how you feel since you’ve run off anyone and everyone who cares about you?”
“Why are you being a bitch?” I curse at her. I’m not going to answer her stupid question. I just want to send her away—like everyone else.
“For some of my patients, I have a sweet, kind demeanor. For others, I have to be motherly and coddle them. Then there are the ones like you. The ones who are stubborn asses and don’t see the how great they are, even when staring in a fucking mirror.” She looks at me as if I should know what she’s talking about. “Family. Friends. People who want to help you, support you, and be there for you. Do you even know how many people would love to have a lobby full of loved ones wanting to help them? Do you?”
I divert my eyes from hers.
“Bas, you’re not answering me.”
“There’s no point,” I finally say.
“See, I’m right. You’re stubborn.” She smirks. “Now, let me ask you a question. When I finish asking you, I want you to think because I want a straight answer and why. Deal?”
I say nothing but nod. Unsure why I’m giving into her, although it doesn’t mean I’m going to answer her.
“You never talk about your grandparents only telling me they took you in. Now, being a Bears fan, I know they were at your draft day, but where are they now?”
The white noise on the telly catches my attention. It’s a game show. I watch the contestant mull over the question asked of him. His face is in deep thought. I wonder what he’s thinking about this very moment. Is he thinking about some childhood teacher who may have helped him in this particular subject? Maybe a family relative who had vast knowledge of the topic? Either way, it makes me think of my grandparents.
“They never had much money.” I start. “But they always made sure we had the best and big dinners. Gram always cooked. Gramps tried to teach us how to hunt, which I sucked at, but he kept trying. They were not overly religious, but on Christmas, they’d pack us all up and go to midnight mass. Every year. Gram is someone you didn’t argue with.” My memories are vast and wide of all the times I tried to push her authority but was quickly shut down by one look. “Not when she traveled all the way to the US to watch her grandson’s draft, even though he yelled extremely foul names just the day before that said day. Not even after she smiled, waved, and talked kindly to the cameras. Not even after we went back to the hotel and she told you to walk her back to her room and when you do, she opened her door and turned to you and told you you’re breaking her heart and just like every other break-up someone needed to cut ties. And she said she would be the one to do it.” A tear slides down my cheek. “She shut the door, then returned to England the next day, and we’ve not spoken since.”
“And your grandfather?”
“He quit talking to me long before that.” I wipe my cheeks. “See, I just disappoint everyone.”
“How did you feel when she shut the door that day?” Caryn’s sweet tone is back.
“How do you think?” I snap at her.
“You’re avoiding the question, Bas.” She calls me out.
“Like shit, okay. Is that what you want to hear?” This only scratches the surface of how I felt when she closed the door in my face.
I know they had sacrificed a lot for my brothers and me, but they shouldn’t have. It’s because of me their world had been turned upside down. There had been no reason for them to continue to work in their advanced ages. They should have enjoyed retirement. They should have traveled.
“Bas, you need to reflect on how you felt that day. Think about what happened to you when you walked away from the door. Where did you go?”
I rub my hand over my forehead. “To the lobby bar, but I couldn’t be served. I wasn’t twenty-one.”
“What happened next?”
I’m not sure why I’m rambling about the day or my actions. I just know…I’m talking. “I went back to my room. I had a bottle hidden in my bag. I drank it. Not all of it. Just enough to dull the pain.”
We sit in silence as another contestant on the telly answers a question.
“You didn’t kill your parents. Yes, you messed up numerous relationships, but they’re fixable. I can help you fix them.” Caryn tells me. “The question is, do you want to live or die?”
The older female contestant smiles as the host tells her the answer she gave is correct. She’s beaming with the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment. And here I sit. In a hospital bed, being asked by my therapist if I want to live or die—unable to answer the question.
Is it a simple question? Sure, to most people. Ninety-nine percent of people will say they want to live without a blink of doubt, but do I?
Do I want to carry this guilt and pain anymore? Do I want to feel like a failure who has no career plan B? Do I want to live?
“People live without family, right?” I mutter out loud.
“People try but everyone needs someone. You have someone. You have more than one. Bas, lots of them who care about you and are willing to help you on a path to recovery.” Caryn now sits on the side of my bed. “But you have to be the one who seeks out the help. The one who mends the bridges. The one to start earning their trust back. Because if it isn’t you, Bas, then how can you begin to heal?”
Heal?
Can I heal?
Or am I too far gone?
“I kicked Erin out. Do you want to know why?” I ask her.
“Because you’re a wanker,” she answers with a horrible British accent.
I smile—for the first time in forever. “Partially. Because I’m mad at her for calling for help.” The smile fades with my words.
“You wanted to die.”
Caryn doesn’t need to form it into a question because she knows the truth.
“We both know the answer.”
“After you left me, left Oliver, left the team lunch, what happened?”
I tilt my head slightly. “You know a lot about my day. How is that?”
“I’ll tell you my secret.” She smirks. “I’m a witch.” She laughs at her lame joke, and I shake my head. “So, tell me what happened, Bas?”
Shrugging, I move around in the bed, trying to find another comfortable spot. “My brothers. My brothers are what happened.” I begin telling her about their visit, our argument and throwing them out.
“Then you drank.”
“Then I drank.” I confirm.
My throat begins to close as beads of sweat build up on my brow. Tears that had just dried moments ago have come back and are now burning my cheeks. My insides shake first before seeing the outward effects.
“You have to accept it. First, you have to accept it.” She takes my hand.
“Caryn.” I sob, falling into her arms.
“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” She rocks me, smoothing my hair, bringing me to a calm point.
I know I have to say the words to accept it…to bring it to reality. I can handle it, right? No, I can’t handle this on my own. It’s clear to see since I’m being cradled by my therapist. I used to be a good person. My parents were good people. My brothers are. Maybe I can be, again?
Caryn pulls back and looks at me. She’s even crying. “You’re a good person. You can fix this. Just accept it.”
“I need help,” I manage to say.
“What kind of help?”
I take a shaky breath. “I’m…I’m…an alcoholic.”
Last night, Caryn stayed almost the entire evening. She was able to get me a bed at The New Outlook. Oliver stopped by and told me how proud he is of me.