Can't Go Home (Oasis Waterfall)

by Angelisa Denise Stone

  Rory wipes his eyes, nodding. “Alright Buddy, alright, she’s in ICU. Pipe’s lost a lot of blood. They’ve given her a transfusion already, but the rare blood type is a concern. You’re gonna need to donate when you get there.”

  “God, fuck, of course … what else? Is that it?” Dre asks, looking distraught.

  “If … I mean, when … when … she wakes up, they’re gonna monitor her … before … before …”

  “Before what?” Dre grabs Rory, shaking his shoulders, urging him to disclose everything. I’m standing there, watching all of this unravel, feeling nothing but pain for Dre and an overwhelming sense of uselessness to him and his family.

  “Before they move her to the psych floor for evaluation,” Rory finally explains.

  “Psych ward? Why the fuck would they—” Dre stops; his eyes widen, spilling over with tears all over again. “Piper didn’t … she wouldn’t …” Rory grabs Dre as he begins to sway, his knees buckling from the weight of the situation.

  “Come on Buddy, ya gotta pull it together. Ya gotta be strong for her right now. She needs you,” Rory begs, trying to give Dre the strength he needs to go forward.

  “Kathryn, why don’t you go start the car and tell Syd we’ll be at the airport in twenty minutes?” Rory says. I nod, taking Rory’s keys and heading to the front of the house, knowing there’s more that Rory and Dre are keeping from me.

  Walking to Rory’s car, I notice Warren’s truck, and my stomach falls. It’s amazing how life still seems to go on for others when someone else’s life comes crashing down. I get in the car, start it, blast the air conditioning, and text Warren, praying that Syd and Rory will take care of getting Warren’s truck back to him tomorrow morning. Rory must have some effect on Sydney. She’s not usually one to step up to the plate when tragedy hits. I’m lucky to have her. I’m lucky to have everyone in my life. It’s crazy how something awful makes you realize just how blessed you really are.

  Warren’s truck is his pride and joy. How ironic? One man loves his truck, an inanimate machine, while another fights adamantly against material love—only to discover that his baby sister lies fighting for her life in a hospital bed, a life she may have wanted to end herself. Holy heck, life is one confusing and agonizing turn after the next. Life sure doesn’t make sense; there’s no rhyme or reason to what’s thrown at you.

  Dre and I sit in silence, fingers interlocked in one another’s hand, waiting for the flight, boarding the plane, and all throughout take off. After the flight attendant fills our drinks for the second time, I finally speak, “Dre, I don’t know what to do—for you.”

  Dre looks at me, bewildered, as if he just realized someone was actually attached to the hand he’s holding. “Just being here is everything to me,” he says.

  “I just … I … I’ve never dealt with anything scary or hard before,” I confess, feeling worthless. “I’m afraid I’m gonna say or do the wrong thing.”

  “Kathryn, I’m not gonna lie or sugar coat this. It’s gonna get really intense. I’m so sorry for what you’re gonna see and hear,” he explains, kissing my hand. “I wish I could just protect you from it all, but Baby, having you with me is what’s going to get me through this.”

  “You’re kind of scaring me, Dre.” I say, feeling a sense of doom looming.

  “I wanted to get away, to start over, because of my family,” he begins. “They’re awful, horrible fucking excuses for human beings.”

  “Piper?”

  “Oh God no, she’s the best we’ve got,” Dre swoons, his face lighting up. “Unfortunately, she’s only seventeen, so she’s stuck there until fall.”

  Shaking his head, he continues, “Growing up, I always knew my parents were assholes, but it wasn’t until last year that I really saw them for whom they really are.”

  “Doesn’t everyone have problems with their parents?” I ask, wanting to appease his anger and resentment. People shouldn’t give up, turn their backs on their families, no matter how screwed up and dysfunctional they are.

  “Not to the degree at what the O’Donnells have,” he confesses. “The money, power, control, it’s all the O’Donnells want or need—they’ll stop at nothing to get it too.”

  “O’Donnell is your real last name?” I ask, wanting to fill in all the holes in the stories, fabrications, downright lies he’s told me. Dre’s lies pile higher than any skyscraper I’ve ever seen, but there’s something about him that allows me to still trust him, forgive him, want to be with him. God, I pray I’m not making a monumental mistake flying to his hometown with him.

  “Yeah, I became ‘Dre Donley’ to sever the ties to them—as well as hide from them,” Dre admits, shaking his head. “They’re pissed that I’m ruining their reputation, destroying their perfect family image by going into medicine, refusing my place in the O’Donnell status hierarchy.”

  “I just don’t understand why it matters. Who cares? You’re a grown man; you can make your own decisions—live any way you want.” I question.

  “You’ll get it once you’re there, and you see first-hand how they operate,” Dre says, his face falling. “I just fucking hope they let me in to see Piper.”

  “Of course they’ll let you in. She’s your sister!” I exclaim.

  “No Pebbles, it’s not that easy with them. You haven’t met them. Nothing is ever that easy with them.”

  As we ride the elevator to baggage claim, Dre faces me and says, “Promise me that all of this, what you’re about to see, hear, and discover won’t change how you feel about me right now.”

  “Dre, wow, I—”

  “Just please, promise me,” he says, his eyes pleading with urgency, as he grips the railing with one hand and my hand with his other.

  “Okay … okay Dre … I promise,” I relent, hoping that I never have to break this vow.

  Once we exit the airport, Dre sighs languidly, his shoulders falling. “Hi Lafferty,” he says, greeting an older gentleman. The man takes Dre’s bags, while reaching for mine.

  “I’m happy to see you, sir. Unfortunate circumstances for this reunion. Forgive my intrusiveness. Jada, Piper’s friend, knew she was in contact with you … Piper’s phone had your friend, Mr. Carlson’s, number in it.” Lafferty explains, apologetically. “I would never disrespect your wishes otherwise.”

  “Of course Lafferty, I’m glad you called,” Dre says, hugging him stiffly. “Rory was a big help getting me here, so calling him was definitely the right move.”

  “Thank you sir,” Lafferty says. “Excuse my manners, Ma’am. I’m Niles Lafferty, the O’Donnells’ butler and driver.” Lafferty extends his hand, shaking mine professionally and formally.

  “Kathryn Howell, Dre’s friend,” I reply, smiling nervously. Chauffeur? Butler? Understanding his confusion and discomfort, I clarify, “Adrian’s friend from South Carolina.”

  “She can say she’s my ‘friend’ all she wants Lafferty, but this woman here is undoubtedly the best thing that’s ever happened to me—quite possibly even the love of my life,” Dre states, beaming at me. My heart flutters; my mouth goes dry. He really does take my breath away.

  Smiling warmly, Lafferty nods, while opening the hatchback to the black Escalade parked in front of us. “I didn’t know how much you’d have with you, so I brought this car. Sheldon has the limo at the hospital with your parents,” Lafferty explains, motioning for us to get in the car.

  “Would you care to go straight to the hospital or to the house to freshen up a bit first?” The look on Lafferty’s face tells me that he thinks we should be stopping at the house before heading to the hospital.

  “Nope, I’m good like this. If they have a problem with how I look then they can take it up with someone who gives a fuck,” Dre confirms, slamming the door harder than necessary. Lafferty flinches and grimaces, at either the door slam or the vulgarity of Dre’s words; I’m not sure which.

  Driving to the hospital, all three of us are silent, engrossed in our own thoughts and worries. I’ve
never really visited anyone in the hospital before, not counting my co-worker who had a baby over the summer. Hospitals creep me out. They’re buildings where people suffer and die, for God’s sake. Granted, sometimes, people recover and go home, but that doesn’t change the fact that there’s a storage room for corpses. No thank you. Machines and doctors and injuries scare the heck out of me. Luckily, I’ve never been faced with tragic, debilitating pain or fear. Currently, fear is enveloping me, suffocating me. I’m terrified for Dre. I’m scared of what will happen to his little sister. I’m afraid of what I’ll actually witness. And I’m frightened of the truth that lurks within Dre’s past and family.

  I’m not an overly religious man. But, I’ve been known to ask Him every now and then for a favor or two. I should probably do my part a little more—show more gratitude, especially since all I’ve been doing since Rory walked into my tent is pray to my ever-loving Lord that Piper comes out of this. How could I have left her? I knew better than to leave her alone with them, let them try to corrupt her, change her. Piper is the only person worth anything in my family, my past. She’s the only thing that’s good in my life—until Kathryn. God, please don’t let her—

  “Are you okay?” Kathryn asks, holding the door for me. I hadn’t realized I stopped at the threshold. My entire life I’ve loved hospitals, been enamored and amazed by what occurred within the walls of them. The medical profession has always mesmerized and awed me, intrigued me. For the first time in my life, I’m scared to death to walk through the door.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little spooked,” I admit.

  “I’m sure,” she says, offering her hand. “I’m here, Dre. Don’t forget that.”

  Smiling weakly, I grab her hand as we walk into the hospital.

  Piper is still in intensive care. Naturally, I’m not on the approved list of visitors. Rory called the hospital en route to the airport to ask what I already knew. I had the foresight to see this one coming. They could only give information to people on the “in the know” list, due to privacy laws. I knew my parents would never put me on that list—just to spite me. They’d know that Piper’s well-being was an integral part of my happiness and existence.

  Approaching the reception desk blocking the doors to ICU, a strikingly beautiful woman with soft features and flawless black skin stops us. “Excuse me, do you have your visitors’ badge?”

  There are times when I’m thankful that I was blessed with this face and this body; it often gets me what others couldn’t get, makes things easier. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve repeatedly used it to my advantage. By the way she’s devouring me with her eyes, this is going to be too easy.

  “No, I’m sorry. We just got here,” I explain. “We’re here to see Piper O’Donnell.”

  “Oh yes, of course,” she says after recognizing the last name.

  As she looks over the list of names, she asks for mine. “Tristan O’Donnell,” I reply amicably and confidently. This is Jada Montgomery.”

  The receptionist is clearly appraising me, calculating my net worth. I can almost hear her “carrying the one” in her head. It’s nauseating really. When people hear my name all they really ever hear is “jackpot” or “walking wallet.” God, I want to fucking throttle her, but I know my anger is misplaced, misdirected—all she’s done is ask me my name.

  “Oh splendid Mr. O’Donnell, I know they’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival,” she coos, batting her lashes at me, as she bites seductively on the end of her pen.

  I’m not at all shocked that Tristan hasn’t graced them with his presence yet. I knew that whatever, or whomever, he was doing right now would absolutely take priority over Piper. Fucking typical. Goddamn selfish-ass bastard.

  The receptionist buzzes us through the double doors. “Who’s Tristan? Who’s Jada?” Kathryn asks, running to keep up with me. “Dre, wait! Hold on.”

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe he isn’t here. Son-of-a-bitch, what a fucking prick,” I seethe. “Where does he get off not being here?”

  “Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, staring at me, her eyes searching my face.

  “Tristan, my brother. I knew he wouldn’t be here. I also knew they’d be waiting on him like court waits on the fucking king,” I say through gritted teeth.

  Kathryn nods, stepping back. “Okay, ummm … but if he were here, we wouldn’t get in, right? So that’s kind of a good thing.”

  I shouldn’t be yelling at her, taking this out on her. I sound like an envious, petulant child, but she hasn’t met Tristan. Kathryn has no idea who or what he is.

  “Who’s ‘Jada? I should know who I’m impersonating.”

  “Jada’s my sister’s best friend. I knew she wouldn’t be here this late, so it’s cool to use her name,” I explain, relaxing a little, thankful that Jada and Piper are close enough that she knew to notify me.

  “You’re a pretty smart cookie,” she says, giggling, as she loops her arm through the crook in mine. “For a homeless dude.”

  I stop, turn toward her, and kiss her softly on the lips. Relishing the sensation of her lips on mine, the taste of her tongue as it twirls around mine, and the feeling of her body pressed against mine.

  Freeing herself from my embrace, Kathryn touches her lips, eyelashes fluttering, and says, “Whoa, what was that for?”

  “I needed a little ‘Kathryn-courage;’ kissing you gives me strength,” I explain, grinning at her.

  “I’m glad that I give you strength, because you … those kinds of kisses … weaken me,” she admits, sighing.

  I take Kathryn’s hand in mine, heading down to room #202 to see my baby sister. Turning the corner of the corridor, the sight I’d been dreading all along slaps me in the face. My father and mother are standing outside of the room. My mother is wildly tapping away at the keyboard of her cell phone; my father’s pacing back and forth, talking quietly, but dramatically into his phone. They’re dressed impeccably. My father’s suit jacket is gone; his tie loosened around his neck. My mother is in a tailored pants suit and heels, her hair perfectly styled and flawless. The only indication that things are amiss in their lives is the small smudge of mascara on my mother’s face.

  Luckily, they’re too engrossed in their own lives, they’ve yet to notice us. It’s quite possible my parents wouldn’t even recognize me anyway. Their clean-cut, well-groomed, and well-dressed son left over a year ago, and who’s returning does not even remotely resemble the same man. I motion to Kathryn, indicating that we’re standing in front of my parents.

  Her eyes widen; she stares at me in disbelief. On cue my parents turn simultaneously, noticing us for the first time. My father is stoic and cold, saying nothing as he turns back to his phone call.

  My mother puts her phone into her Louis Vitton handbag, clears her throat, and asks, “How did you get back here? It’s restricted for anyone … but family.”

  Closing my eyes, taking a deep breath, I say, “Come on Mother, don’t do this. You gotta let me see her,” as I try to maneuver around my mom to the hospital room.

  “You made your decision, young man, when you left town,” she spews the words venomously at me, blocking my way into Piper’s room.

  Finally, my father disconnects his call, walking over to us. “Well, well, well, look who finally showed up.”

  “Hi Dad, can you let me around … please?” I ask, trying to get through.

  “Don’t ‘Hi Dad’ me. You can’t come waltzing in here after being MIA for over a year, and expect to get your way,” he says, respectfully, not to mention surprisingly. Then, he pulls me by the collar, growling quietly in my ear, “You spoiled little fuck.” My father—always the gentleman in front of the eyes of strangers.

  “I’m getting in there … with or without your consent,” I say. Squaring off my shoulders, staring at my father, nose-to-nose, I threaten, “I left, and you both know damn well why. I kept your fucking ugly secrets. Don’t make me use them … now … after all this time jus
t to see my fucking sister.”

  “Listen hear you little—”

  “Look who the mother-fucking cat dragged in!” Tristan bellows from down the hallway. My parents are diverted for a moment, which gives me enough time to yank Kathryn’s arm, pulling her through the doorway with me.

  The lights are dim; the rhythmic beep of the monitors fill my ears, shattering my heart. I walk through the dark, cold, stark room, concentrating on my steps, feeling the weight of each foot as I step one foot, then the other toward her bed, willing myself to move closer. It’s paradoxical how much the one place that typically gives me the greatest sense of self-worth and confidence suddenly fills me with dread and an overwhelming sense of worthlessness.

  My eyes adjust to the light and the limp, small body of my sister looks frail and helpless. Piper’s hooked up to an Electrocardiograph machine, monitoring her heart and other vitals. An oxygen tube is in her nose, assisting her with the breaths she can’t or won’t take on her own. I’m relieved that she doesn’t need an Endotracheal tube and ventilator. Small victories.

  I look around, taking in the dark, dank, cold room, wishing it had some of the vibrancy and effervescence that typically surrounded my sister. But it doesn’t. This room is filled with gloom and fear, as most sterile ICU rooms are. There’s even a faint smell of dried blood and urine wafting through the room, churning my stomach, knowing it’s the blood of my family, our coupled pain and deceit.

  I remember the first time I ever let her down. She must’ve been about five or six-years-old; I was 16 at the time. Some friends and I were going to go sledding on a Snow Day from school. Piper begged me to let her go. I didn’t want her tagging along, but my mom insisted I take her. My mom hated Snow Days, because that meant we were home with her, distracting her, disrupting her time, and destroying her house. If I wanted to go, then I had to take Piper with me.