When Fall Breaks

by Julie Solano

  My jaw drops at the insane list of restrictions. I want to raise my hand to ask how I’m supposed to get through AP English, but the pain stops me . . .

  “Now the second thing we found concerns that right shoulder. You’ve torn your rotator cuff, and the only way to fix that is with arthroscopic surgery.”

  The doctor’s voice fades out as my ears begin to ring again . . . Surgery? Surgery? “What about Masters?” I belt out, “Can I still swim in the meet?” I stutter, turning my head toward my mom and dad.

  “Well, that depends on when the meet is, Kaitlyn. I can schedule surgery as early as tomorrow morning, but there is a six week recovery period,” he says shaking his head. “Not to mention, you will need some intense physical therapy following the surgery. You may not be able to compete for up to six months.”

  I say nothing else; the sound of a dying cat claws its way out of my throat. The back of my eyes sting, and I find it hard to breathe. “I’m suffocating . . . I can’t breathe,” I cry out to my parents. More alien noises escape as I try to draw in breath. Then the hysteria sets in. I cry like a child who’s just landed on a desert cactus after being thrown from a horse. I plug my ears and close my eyes. “I just want to wake up now,” I cry rocking back and forth in the hospital bed. I work to breathe through my stuffy nose and feel a snot bubble pop above my lip. I snort again, trying to pull in more air.

  I feel the bed dip and a tissue come up to my nose. “Blow Pip,” I hear Brody whisper. He holds the tissue in one hand and brings his other up to my back, slowly rubbing it in circles. “Shhh . . .” he whispers into my ear. “It’s gonna be okay. It could be so much worse. At least they can fix this, Pip.”

  “This is horrible, Brody! My swimming career is ruined! And the team . . . They’re counting on me! Some of those girls only qualified for our relay Brody! They won’t be able to swim either! All that work down the drain!” I cry hysterically, shaking even harder.

  “Honey,” I hear my mom say, “The girls will understand. It’s only one season. You can get back in the pool again this spring and start training for summer. We’ll help you get back on track.” Her voice sounds shaky and hesitant, like she’s not sure if she even believes the lines she’s feeding me.

  Anger begins to overtake the pain and sadness. “I hate him! I hate him! He ruined my last year on Varsity!” I grunt, kicking the covers off my feet. “I’m gonna kick his ass!” I thrash around trying to get out of the bed. Surprise fills the room, at the shock of my wild kicking and uncharacteristic language.

  “Don’t let her move,” the doctor sternly orders. “She needs to calm down with that concussion. Nurse, please get me this pain sedative,” he whispers, handing her a slip of paper.

  I continue to kick wildly. I shriek again from pain, when I accidentally push down on the bed, trying to work my way up.

  “Calm down Baby Girl.” My dad says slowly. “You don’t need to damage that arm any worse. The doc already has his work cut out for him.”

  “Ya, calm down, Sis. Don’t hurt yourself,” Caden says holding onto my feet. He holds them tightly, not in a way to restrain me, but more as a reassurance that he’s still with me. He gives them a loving squeeze, “I’ve got this T. You don’t need to worry about kicking his ass. I’ll take care of it.”

  As the boys hold me and try to calm me down, the nurse comes over with a needle. “Hold still, Honey. You’re going to feel a little pinch.” Just as the injection enters my skin, I hear a ding come from Brody’s direction. I look over at him and see a glowing light coming out of his sweatshirt pocket. He pulls out the familiar cell, with my name and treble clef on the cover, and I softly ask, “Why do you have my phone? Who is it?”

  “It was on the ground by your car. I picked it up before I carried you in the house.” He looks down at the message and looks back up at my brother. Then he looks back down at me. “It’s Jenna. She’s worried about you cuz you didn’t text her when you got home. Don’t you worry about it, Pip. I’ll fill her in. You need to rest.”

  I am beginning to feel groggy from whatever the injection was that the nurse just shoved in my arm. I fight to stay awake, but my eyes flutter closed. I may not be able to keep my eyes open, but I can still hear the voices filling the room.

  “I think she’s asleep,” I hear Caden say.

  “Good Dude, cuz you guys need to see these texts.”

  I can’t speak, and I can’t move, but I listen intently on what the boys are saying.

  “The first three are from Pistol. He’s apologizing for hurting Kaitlyn tonight. He says he’s sorry he left her on the ground but he saw me coming and knew I’d take care of her . . . says he was drinking and just wanted her back. He didn’t mean to hit her in the mouth and tug her so hard.”

  “Let me see that,” I hear my Dad’s voice.

  Before handing him the phone, Brody sighs, “Look Coach, I just scrolled up and there’s a lot more. I can’t believe this. There are so many. She told me she deleted them. Why didn’t she tell us about this? I asked her . . . I asked her Coach.”

  I can hear the pain in Brody’s voice. He’s genuinely hurt that I’ve kept him in the dark about Pistol.

  The sounds are beginning to blur. They are becoming more and more faint. Off in the distance I hear Doctor Smith say, “This is serious. I’ve had a few of these teen violence cases in here before. I think it’s best to get the police involved before the situation gets worse.”

  Relief overtakes me, and I drift off once again.

  I’M RESTING IN THE HOSPITAL post surgery. When I wake up, I feel like I’m floating about three feet beside my actual body. I’m weightless and hollow inside. I can barely make out my family and friends, who are gathered around my bedside. My head is cloudy, and when I gaze up toward the ceiling, I swear I see fluffy, pink teddy bears floating over my bed. I raise my good arm and point, with a drunk-like slur, “Did you see that guys?” I giggle and start to sing, “ . . . this is the day the teddy bears have their picnic . . . Hey! Why are you guys laughing at me? This is a serious matter.” I roll my head to my left and focus in on Caden and Jenna. Oh good. I’m relieved to see my best friend has found me.

  Their faces are all screwed up like they’re trying to solve a mystery, “We’re not laughing at you, Kait.”

  “Not you! Them!” I whine, pointing back at the bears that are now jumping from star to star. I turn my head back toward the crowd and wonder why they are not wearing their space suits. “Heyyyyy . . . You guys need to put on your helmets. You won’t be able to breathe . . . Where’s that Dr. HOTronaut that stuck me in the space ship today? Did he come too?” I scratch my head reliving my entry into orbit. I’m still floating and spinning, “Mom? Can you buy him a Milky Way for taking such good care of me during lift-off?”

  “Is she okay?” I hear Jenna whisper under her breath.

  An unfamiliar husky voice responds, “Yes, she’s just experiencing postoperative delirium. She’ll be okay soon enough.”

  Then I hear Caden laugh, “Hey T, we might not have on our space suits, but you have on nothing at all!” he continues to chuckle.

  My face flushes with embarrassment. Oh my gosh. I can’t have Space Commander Centerfold see me like this. I shuffle around trying to pull the blankets over me.

  “Caden, don’t mess with your sister,” I hear my mom again, followed by the sound of a soft smack.

  I forget why I’m struggling so hard with the covers when I realize one of my arms doesn’t work. I don’t understand why it’s pinned and I can’t move at all. “Help Mom! I think the aliens put me in a strait jacket!” I begin to panic.

  “It’s okay Honey. You just got out of surgery. Remember? The doctor fixed your shoulder. You need to calm down.”

  This is all very confusing to me. I pause and try to focus in on my surroundings. Raising the arm that’s not glued to my body, I rub my eyes and squint back toward the ceiling. The teddy bears vanish, the stars float away, and I’m back in the sterile, white hos
pital room. Things are becoming much clearer as my senses begin to sharpen. A quick burst of adrenaline rushes through me, and I glance down quickly, to make sure I have on clothes. To my relief, I find I’m covered with a hospital gown and blankets. I shake my head and look up to see a seemingly amused crowd dotting the room. “Ha ha brother! Good one,” I grimace. “Way to take advantage of my vulnerability,” I smirk. “You’d better hope you never have your wisdom teeth pulled. I’ve seen videos of that stuff, and I’ll be standing by waiting with my camera. Payback’s a bitch, you know.”

  “Kaitlyn Woodley, watch your language. Surgery is no excuse for potty talk,” my mom giggles in disbelief of my uncharacteristic cursing.

  I hear a knock penetrate the room, and peer out the window, trying to see who’s standing outside my door. I can see the shoulder of a black uniform, shifting back and forth.

  “I’d better get that.” My dad’s face turns serious and he walks toward the door. He peeks through the window and turns toward my brother and Brody, lifting his eyebrows and taking a prominent gulp. He forces it down his throat as he slowly turns the handle.

  “Cccome on in officer,” my father stammers and clears his throat as he opens the door. Geez; he can’t even talk. I’m surprised he doesn’t just come out with a fox call, as Officer Ohmygawd strolls in. I’m glad my mom is secure with who she is. Any lesser of a woman, might take off right about now. I can hear my brother and Brody take deep breaths, and let them out too. I peer over at them to see their eyes glued to the exquisite officer. They’re practically drooling at the sight of Angelina Jolie turned JPD.

  “Restrain yourselves boys,” I whisper. “Your pheromones are jumping onto my bed. It’s kinda creepy.”

  “Is this our victim?” I hear her ask in the background.

  Victim? I’m in shock that I’ve just been referred to as a victim. Where did this go so wrong? I can’t believe I’m lying in a hospital bed after being attacked by my boyfriend. I feel like I’m the star of some cheesy after school special. I’m mortified and embarrassed. I’m having a hard time grasping the fact that my whole family and my closest friends are witnessing the aftermath of a situation that I’ve been hiding from them for so many months. I’m sure none of them saw this coming. I’m not even sure I saw it coming.

  The officer walks toward the bed. “Kaitlyn?” she asks. I give a nod, not wanting to talk in front of an audience. “I’m Officer Marnia. I have a few questions for you.” Officer Marnia pulls out her notepad and pen.

  I’m so embarrassed that my relationship with Pistol reached this point. Besides, I never told Brody or my family about all of his texts. They are going to be furious. I can’t answer questions now . . . not in front of them. I feel my stubborn pride begin to pump through my veins, and I make a conscious decision to go mute. I turn my head away and look out the window. This is just not a good time for a police interrogation.

  “Kaitlyn, I know you hit your head pretty hard. I understand you’re suffering from a concussion. Can you recall the details about what happened to you last night?”

  An uncomfortable silence fills the room, but I can’t let myself answer these questions.

  “Kaitlyn, can you answer her question?” my mom pleads.

  I just shake my head slightly.

  “Kaitlyn. We can’t waste time here. The bastard that did this to you could be getting away. We need to find this guy. He’s obviously dangerous. What if he hurts someone else?” My dad begins to work on my conscience.

  I really do not want to give details, but I don’t want to put anyone else in danger. Maybe if I just confirm who it was, they can get him and use the physical evidence my face, head, and shoulder are providing.

  “It was Pistol,” I groan reluctantly.

  “So you know the perpetrator, personally?”

  I don’t answer. The silence is broken when Jenna huffs, “It’s her ex-boyfriend. He’s a slimy, Douchebag.”

  “Let’s be objective here,” Officer Marnia raises her hand to silence Jenna. “So what time did the slimy, Douchebag attack you last night?”

  On the opposite side of my bed, I hear Caden whisper to Brody, “Damn, a hot badass cop.” I’m pretty sure I sense Peyton smack him before I hear the dainty huff come from her direction.

  I look back over to Officer Marnia. Judging by the way she’s looking at me, I can tell she’s frustrated with my lack of cooperation. I decide to help her out with a few minimal answers; but I’m not giving away everything right here and now. “I’m not sure. Brody, do you remember when I came home?”

  “It happened right after you texted me from the school.” Brody’s eyes light up and he gloats, “Wait, I have your phone.”

  I gulp and feel a burst of adrenaline shoot through my face. Ohhh crap. This is not going to be good.

  “I think Officer Marnia would be quite interested in seeing this.” Brody pulls out the phone and walks over to the officer.

  “Here you go Ma’am,” he hands it over, and I about lose my mind when I realize all of the information she’s now holding. Secret after secret, and months of emotional abuse and stalking, are right in the palm of her hand. I wonder if she’s going to read between the lines, or take the texts at face value. Pistol is smooth. She may not catch hidden meanings. I take a deep breath, hoping she doesn’t decode his messages in front of my parents. They would be so disappointed in me if they knew I was keeping this from them. They would never trust my judgement again.

  The room stands still as Officer Marnia scrolls through the texts. I watch her long eyelashes move up and down in slow motion, as she reads. She pinches her perfectly groomed eyebrows together, and runs her hand along her long side braid shaking her head back and forth. I feel like I’m stuck in a time void, watching and waiting for her to say something . . . anything. I take a deep breath in, trying to calm my nerves when she finally moves her head up to look me in the eyes. She holds out the phone, slowly shaking it back and forth. “You realize, you are a lucky girl?” she raises her eyebrows, “I’ve seen a lot of messed up teen-relationship abuse cases in my day, and this Douchebag tops them all.” I can hear the boys snorting through their noses, trying to hold back their laughter.

  “This guy is a pro at manipulation. I bet you feel like this is your fault. You want to protect him right now, don’t you?” She shakes her head. “It’s okay. I get it. I’ll tell you what, I’m going to hang onto this for evidence, but for now, I’m going to start the process of getting you a restraining order. I know you don’t want to talk right here, but I’m going to catch you privately to get more details later.”

  Relief overcomes me. Maybe Officer Marnia isn’t just a princess on patrol. She actually understands the situation. She’s not treating me like a naive little girl. She’s not even making me feel like I did anything wrong. “Okay, I’m going to head down to the office and file an emergency protective order until we can get a restraining order.” She holds up the phone one more time, reminding me that it’s out of my hands now. “Do you have any idea where we can find Pistol so we can serve him the temporary order?”

  “I’ll talk to my cousin Mason and see if he knows anything,” Brody answers. “I’ll contact you if we find him, but you can start your search out in the valley.”

  “Okay boys. We’ll work from our end too. Thanks for your help.” Marnia looks down at me, “Rest up, and let these handsome boys take care of you.” She looks over her shoulder and sends them a little wink.

  I look at the boys, whose chests are puffed out like Tarzan. They’re wearing proud smirks on their faces, and congratulating each other on their masculine prowess. They’re acting like they just got hit on by Miss America.

  “Oh please. Don’t make their heads any bigger, they may not be able to fit through that door when I kick them out,” I chuckle.

  She hands me her card and walks out the door. “If you remember anything, and I don’t care what time it is, you call me. We’ll talk soon about the details, and some resources th
at other girls in your situation have found very helpful. Hang in there kid.”

  I’ve been out of the hospital three weeks. In that time, a lot has happened. After beating Pistol sober and hog-tying him to a wheel line, Mason called Brody to let him know where the police could find him. He told Brody he didn’t care if he got in trouble for it, because he felt so badly about being the one to set us up. Officer Marnia overlooked Mason’s involvement, and left it out of her incident report. That made her an instant hero to the boys, who will probably decorate their rooms with her pin-ups soon. At the very least, they will be starting a campaign to make her the centerfold of the “Women in Black” police women calendar this year.

  I may actually join their bandwagon. Officer Marnia has been great. She’s eased my nerves about having to face Pistol in court, and once my concussion heals and my shoulder gets better, she’s going to get me into a self-defense class. She’s also set me up with a support group for teen girls who have been in abusive relationships. I’m a little hesitant about that one, because I don’t really consider myself “one of those girls,” but I may decide to check it out.

  In the meantime, I am a fish out of water. I am miserable without my sport. It’s always been my therapy and my release. I swim away my aggression and refill my happy tank with chlorine. It’s just the way I’ve worked since I was six years old. Needless to say, my first week of recovery, was disheartening. I sat at practice, cheering on my teammates, but I could feel myself losing muscle tone and putting on weight. It was so depressing I wanted to cry. To burn calories, I sat on the steps, kicking my feet like a three year old in swim lessons. It was humiliating. I kept wondering why Coach Hendryx didn’t just put floaties on me and send me into the shallow end with a snorkel and flippers. After a week, my frustration got the best of me.

  I was daydreaming about kicking Pistol in the face for putting me in this position, when French Daemon swam up out of the blue. He was swimming well outside of his lane, so I’m pretty sure he was trying to mess with me. I swore to Coach that I didn’t see him when I kicked him right in the mouth and split his lip open. Coach Hendryx, however, didn’t buy it. He decided I needed to take a few more weeks off of practice so I didn’t put any more of his swimmers on the injured list.