by Karlik, Mary
But nothing in his wildest imagination could have prepared him for what he found.
10
His mom sat on the floor, slumped against the bed, her eyes closed. Chelsea’s clothes were strewn across the bed and her paintings were scattered on the floor. The one of Austin McCoy lay in her lap.
He stepped into the room. “Mom.”
Her head lolled toward him and she opened her eyes. The movement seemed to take all of her energy. She blinked a couple of times, but her eyes closed anyway. “Jus—sin.”
“Mom? Are you okay?” His heart pounded in his chest. Something was different. He’d never seen her this bad before.
“Nooo.” She raised her eyebrows and her eyes fluttered open. Her hands moved beneath the painting of McCoy and that’s when his heart stopped.
In her right hand, she held his dad’s .38. Her hand was wrapped around the grip and her index finger rested on the trigger.
“Mom, put the gun down.” He felt the cell in his hand and with trembling fingers called his dad.
“Don’t wor-ry. I couldn’ do it?” She picked up the picture of Austin. “I want to shoo’ a big hole in it. But I can’t. Is’ too pretty.” She broke into sobs. But the gun was still in her hand.
“Mom, set the gun down.” He heard his dad’s voice on his cell. “Dad, she has a gun. I—I’ve never seen her like this. Her speech is slurred. I think she’s drunk.” His mom may have been locked in the pit of depression for the past two years, but alcohol had never been a part of it.
But then, neither were guns.
“Get out of the room, Justin. I’m dispatching the police now.” His dad fired the words at him.
His mom’s shoulders shook as she sobbed. “I can’t do this. So tired of sad.”
“I’m on my way, son. Stay on the line.” Justin ignored his dad and focused on the gun. His heart pounded in his chest. “Put the gun down and we’ll talk, okay?” He inched closer to her.
She looked up at him with tears streaming down her face. “I sor-ry, Justin.”
“Mom, let go of the gun.”
His dad yelled, “Get out, Justin! Now!”
“I miss her. I wanna be with her.” Her hand rested in her lap, but it was still wrapped around the grip and her finger was still on the trigger.
“I miss her too.” He squatted next to her and hoped like hell that she wouldn’t accidentally pull the trigger. “She’s here in our memories, in these paintings.”
His mom shook her head. “No, no, no. I’ll go to her…” She rolled her gaze to his face. “You’re so good to me. You need a life.”
His throat had closed but he forced words from his lips. “Then hand me the gun, cuz you’re scaring me, Mom.” Where are the freaking police?
“You need to be happy. Dad needs to be happy.”
“We can all be happy, but only if you let go of the gun.” He heard sirens in the distance and silently prayed she wouldn’t freak out. “Mom, the police are coming.”
Confusion crossed her face. “Poli…?” She closed her eyes and opened them but couldn’t seem to get them open all the way.
“They’re afraid you’re going to hurt yourself. I’m going to take the gun and put it away. Will you let me do that?”
She didn’t answer, but her grip relaxed a little. Slowly he reached for the pistol.
Her fingers tightened again. “No.” She lifted it out of her lap and pointed it toward her head. “I’m so tire… I don’ wanna hurt.”
“No. Mom!” Justin lunged across her chest and knocked her arm down, sending the pistol spinning across the floor in one direction and his phone in the other. He dove for the gun and caught it just before it slammed into the baseboard across the room. His hands trembled as he felt for the safety.
It was on.
She hadn’t taken the safety off.
He crawled back to her. She lay in a heap on her right side. He tried to shake her awake, but she was out.
Pounding sounded at the front door. He ran toward the sound. “Coming.” He opened the door and dangled the pistol, barrel down, from his index finger and thumb. “I got the gun from her. Take it from me, please.”
The officer took the gun and stepped into the house. “What’s going on?”
Justin opened his mouth to speak but he trembled so hard he couldn’t form coherent words. He pointed toward Chelsea’s room. “Mom.”
“What about your mom?”
“She had the gun. I got it from her, but I think she’s unconscious.”
The officer started down the hall with his hand on his sidearm and his back at a forty-five degree angle to the wall. Justin started to follow, but the officer put up his hand. “Step outside, please.”
Justin did as he was told and leaned against the brick wall on the porch. The trembling started again. Every muscle in his body seemed to be on the verge of losing control. His dad parked in front of the house and ran across the yard, and in a moment Justin felt his arms wrap around him in a tight embrace. He fell against his dad and let the tears come.
The front door opened and Justin pulled away and rubbed his eyes. The officer said to him, “Is this your dad?”
“Yes, sir. He’s a trauma nurse.”
The officer motioned to Justin’s dad. “Sir, come with me.”
Dad followed the officer back into the house. Justin slid down the wall to the concrete. An ambulance pulled up in front of the house, followed by a second police car. Justin watched the scene unfold as if he were watching a movie. He focused on the red bag centered in the stretcher as the paramedics rushed into the house. The second officer escorted him into the kitchen. There, he finally saw the empty fifth of vodka and the pill bottle on the counter. He sat at the table and somebody wrapped a blanket across his back. He told the the cop what had happened, but he was completely detached—as though it had happened to someone else.
He didn’t see the paramedics carry his mom out of the house, but somehow, he wound up in the passenger seat of his dad’s car. A whisper from somewhere in his consciousness told him he should reconnect with what was happening around him. But he wasn’t ready—instead, he focused on the blinking lights of the ambulance ahead of them.
They pulled into the employee lot and parked across from the ambulance bay. His dad sighed deeply and said, “She’s going to be okay. She’ll be in the hospital until she’s stable—after that, she’ll be transferred to a psych unit. Do you understand?”
He understood. He understood that she shouldn’t have had to completely unravel before getting the help she needed. He understood that his dad should have taken care of her. But he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He was still watching the movie unfold. The paramedics opened the double doors of the ambulance, pulled the stretcher out, and rolled the gurney into the hospital.
His dad reached across the seat and squeezed his shoulder. “Son, are you okay?”
Justin turned his head and said, “Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.” He squeezed the words through his lips. He wanted to say more, but judging by the look on his dad’s face, he’d gotten his point across.
His dad pulled the keys from the ignition. “The police will probably want to talk to you again. I’ll be there with you.”
Now you decide to be a dad? “Can we check on Mom first?”
“Of course.” His dad scanned his badge to gain access to the staff entrance of the emergency department. Jeannie, a willowy nurse, met them at the door. “She’s in T-one.” She put her arm around Justin’s dad. “Alan, they’re intubating her.”
Justin wasn’t sure what that meant, but knew it couldn’t be good. He looked at his dad’s colorless face for an explanation.
“They’re putting her on a vent—a machine that will breathe for her.”
Justin’s chest grew heavy and the world seemed to be shrinking away from him. His dad slipped his arm under his shoulders. “Come on.” He led him to the staff break room and sat him at a table. “Breathe.”
Jeannie
handed him a miniature can of some off-brand coke. His hands shook when he took it from her, but he managed to gulp it anyway. Slowly, as they sat there not talking, he reconnected. He wasn’t a spectator—this was his life. Sadness weighed his body down. His sister was dead, and now this.
While they waited, a couple of nurses came in and offered solace before leaving in that awkward helpless way people do in these situations. Justin watched the clock tick off thirty minutes and tried not to think about what might be going wrong.
“Alan.” A middle-aged, squat nurse stood in the doorway. “Dr. Shulkin said you could see her. He’s with her now.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, but her eyes held concern.
Justin stood with his dad. “I’m coming too.”
His dad reached out, but stopped short of placing a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “She’ll have a couple of IV lines, and she’ll be on the vent.”
Justin nodded, but the lump in his throat and the burn of unshed tears kept him from speaking. He followed his dad into the room that held his mom.
She lay on the stretcher with the machine fastened over her mouth, breathing for her, and Justin was struck by how peaceful she looked. No worries. For the first time in years, she was free from the pain—she didn’t have to try anymore. Hell, she didn’t even have to breathe for herself.
Fear raced through him. What if she never woke up? What if she died? He stepped back from the bed and looked at his dad. He wanted to hear that she was going to open her eyes any second.
Dr. Shulkin pulled away from the computer he was typing into and introduced himself to Justin. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter. “She’s stable. We’re going to transfer her to the unit as soon as a bed is available.” He shook his head. “Vodka and Ambien. Bad combination. I understand there was a gun.”
Justin blinked away the burning in his eyes. “She had Dad’s thirty-eight. She wanted to shoot one of my sister’s paintings.” It sounded ridiculous when Justin said it out loud. Of course she wasn’t just going to shoot the painting. She’d covered all her bases—booze, pills, and a gun. He moved close to his mom again and covered her hand with his. It felt cold and lifeless. He squeezed, hoping that some part of her consciousness would reach out and squeeze back.
Nothing. The only sign that there was life in her body was the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the rhythmic swooshing of the ventilator.
Dr. Shulkin left the room and his dad proceeded to inspect all the gadgets and lines hooked up to her. He hadn’t come close to actually looking at her. But that was his MO. It was all about the mechanics of a functioning family and a total disregard for the emotional side.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“What?”
“This isn’t some stranger from the street. This is Mom.”
His dad released the IV bag he was inspecting. “Justin…”
Jeannie and the squat nurse came into the room. “We’re moving her to the unit.” To his dad, she said, “Why don’t y’all get a bite to eat or a cup of coffee. We’ll let you see her briefly when she’s settled.”
His dad rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll take Justin home and come back.”
“No, you won’t.” Justin faced his dad. “I’m not leaving.”
“You won’t really be able to see her until morning. ICU has strict visiting hours.”
“So? There’s a waiting room. Somebody has to be here when she wakes up.”
The squat nurse volleyed her gaze between them. “You can discuss this in the family room, but right now we need to move Sandy.”
His dad nodded. “Right. Come on.”
Jeannie began preparing the equipment for transfer. “I’ll call when she’s settled.”
Justin followed his dad to the family room. Chairs and end tables lined the walls. Tissue boxes were stacked like blocks on the tables, all set up for the delivery of bad news. The last time he had been ushered in here, his world crumbled. When the door clicked closed behind him, his emotions went back to that horrible day. Sweat prickled his skin and it took a couple of seconds for his breathing to kick back in.
His dad pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
Justin dropped into a chair and tried to hide the anxiety gripping him. “I’m not leaving.”
“Mom might be on a vent for a couple of days. They’ve given her meds to keep her from fighting the machine. She won’t know you’re there.”
But I’ll know I’m there. The shakes were getting worse. “The image of her lifting that gun to her head keeps replaying in my mind. She wanted to blow her brains out.” He gripped the arms of the chair in a failed attempt to stop the trembling. “I can’t go back. Not yet.”
His dad sat on the coffee table across from him and leaned forward. “I get it. We’ll go together, after she’s settled. She is very sick right now. Dr. Shulkin feels she’ll pull through this, but it’s going to be a slow process.”
Justin glared at his dad. “How’d it get to this? I begged you to get her help.”
“It’s not that easy. I tried.”
“Bullshit.” Justin squeezed the arms of the chair and pressed his body against the back of it in an effort to control the rage that consumed him. “You didn’t even take care of her. I’m the one who’s helped her get through the dark days.”
“You’re not the only one who’s had to handle her.”
“Handle her?” Justin’s grip tightened even more. “Is that what she is to you? Something to handle?”
His dad rubbed his forehead. “Bad choice of words. The thing is, there is no way to force her into treatment unless she’s a danger to herself or others. Unfortunately, it takes an event like this.”
“So, you were waiting for this to happen?”
“Good God, no.” He stared at the floor and shook his head. “I’ve tried to get her help. I’ve begged her. I’ve asked friends to talk to her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That lunch with the girls from work? I arranged it.”
“You did everything but take care of her.” Justin couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
His dad stood and paced the room with his hands on his hips, shoulders back, and chest forward. He was pissed. Justin propped his feet on the coffee table where he’d been sitting and watched his dad try to regain control.
Finally he faced him. “I was wrong to expect you to take care of her while I worked. I should have found another way.”
Justin let his feet drop to the floor. “Dad, you don’t get it. It’s not that I had to care for her, it’s that you never did.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I checked on her while I was at work. I had friends drop in on her. Who do you think is with her at night?”
The door opened and Jeannie stuck her head in. “You can see her now.”
Justin’s dad nodded. “Thanks.”
They snaked through back halls to the secure door. His dad swiped his badge and the doors popped open, ushering them into the Intensive Care Unit. Justin was taken aback by the contrast between the dimly lit halls and the urgent sounds of alarms beeping. The rooms had glass walls and he heard the rhythmic swooshing of the breathing machines from several of them. He followed his dad to the nurse’s desk in the center of the department. A computer screen displaying rows of heart tracings beeped. One of the lines flashed red. A guy looked up from the desk and turned to another nurse. “Check the leads in four.”
The nurse got up and headed out of the station, but she didn’t seem to be in a super big hurry. Shouldn’t she be in a super big hurry?This is the intensive care unit, after all.
The same guy studying the monitor looked away from the screen. “Hi, Alan. She’s in six. Patty is with her now.”
His dad muttered his thanks and Justin followed him to glass room number six. He saw his dad scan the equipment as soon as they entered the room. But he went to the bedside and brushed his wife’s hair away from her face, leaned close, and whispered something in her ear. W
hen he straightened, a tear fell down his cheek and for the first time in two years, Justin saw his dad’s resolve crumble.
Justin crumbled too as tears rose to the surface. Dad wrapped him in a tight embrace. This time he didn’t fight it. He needed to be held, and he needed to hang on to his dad.
11
Chapter 11
Ryan arrived in Shop class before Justin. She thought of the way his hand had felt in hers and the emotions they’d shared. She couldn’t wait to see him, and tried not to grin as she perched on the stool at her table.
Students filtered into the room. A few even said hello to her, but Justin wasn’t among them. She was about to text him when the bell rang. The zero tolerance cell-phone policy made her slip her phone back into her purse. Mr. Hesby called roll and disappointment began to settle inside her. As the last name was called, the door to the room opened and excitement surged—until she saw him.
Justin closed the door and made his way to the table behind her. Every movement seemed to take extraordinary effort. His hair was still damp and he hadn’t bothered to brush it. He wore a blue and silver Dallas Cowboys T-shirt, but it was wrinkled as though it had been wadded up before he put it on. His eyes were puffy and held a sleep-deprived daze.
He didn’t smile at her, or say hello. He just dropped onto the stool as though she were a stranger. She spun around to face him. “Hey.”
He nodded but he didn’t speak, didn’t look at her. What had happened between last night and this morning? Worry gnawed at her. Had she done something wrong?
Mr. Hesby instructed them to work on their projects, but as soon as he was done, Ryan stood and turned to Justin. “Are you okay?”
“Long night.” He looked her in the eyes and away. It was a quick look, but Ryan thought she saw a plea for help there.
“Wanna talk?”
“No.”
Ryan sighed in an exaggerated way and said, “Thank God.”
A tiny smile formed on Justin’s lips and he nodded. But the circles beneath his eyes told her it had been more than just a long night. Apparently Mr. Hesby noticed too.