by Warren, P. A
Stepping carefully on the fluffy blue bath mat I shakily sit down on the closed lid of the toilet. The scissors are still firmly clenched in my hand letting it go as if it was on fire if falls to the floor. Shaking I stare as they lay innocently on the floor. What is wrong with me?
Drying off I stare down at the bandage on my knee. Pulling it off to replace it I grimace. The lines are red and the skin is a disaster, my knee was so damaged that while they fixed the knee it will never look the same. It almost makes me want to throw up looking at it. There is more knocking at the door. Geez, What.The.Hell. Is with the knocking? This isn’t Grand Central Station? Why won’t people just leave me alone?
Opening the door, Avery falls very ungracefully into the bathroom. Grabbing my towel tightly I glare down at him. He has the decency to blush and quickly rights himself putting a hand in his back pocket.
I’m so not used to living with guys. Huffing I cross my arms and look at him, arching an eyebrow, “What the hell do you want?”
“I was just wondering what you were doing.”
“What did you think I was doing in the shower and why the sudden interest in what I’m doing?” I ask him suspiciously.
“What, I can’t be concerned about you, Hadley?”
“No.” Avoiding his eyes I scan the room for a way out but he is blocking the doorway.
Walking up to me he and puts his hand underneath my chin tipping it so that I’m looking at his face. “I’m worried about you. It’s your first holiday without your family and I’m here for you no matter what, okay? Don’t do anything drastic or anything. Come to me even if you just need me to keep the nightmares away, okay? I’ve been where you are. One day I might tell you about it.”
Looking around at the bathroom I suddenly have the urge to crawl under the rug. He shocks me when he pulls the scissors from the rug. “What’s this for?”
Oh crap, thinking quickly I spout out the most logical answer.
“I needed to trim my hair?” Yes that’s a good response. Smiling I look at him in triumph.
He gets closer to me and grabs my wrist turning it over he lifts it up and sees the red line. “What’s this then?”
“Nothing! Leave me alone.”
Slamming the door in his face I look at the scratch and realize what I almost did and that Avery knows what I was going to do. I am so angry at him. Why does he have to stick his nose in business that isn’t his? Leaning against the door I recall the devastation on his face when he saw my wrist. Why should he feel that way? We hardly know each other.
This is so utterly unexpected I’m still standing there in my towel staring at the door ten minutes later. I finally pull myself out of the daze and get dressed heading into the kitchen, dreading it more then I should. Shaking off the shower incident I take a deep breath to prepare for Thanksgiving.
When I walk into the kitchen it appears to be a hectic time for Jenny from where I’m standing. She is elbows deep stuffing the uncooked turkey and saying some pretty unpleasant things to the turkey. “What did that turkey ever do to you?” I nod towards the turkey and walk towards the fridge and grab a glass of orange juice.
“First the son of a biscuit wasn’t fully unfrozen—then I had to pull the bastards organs out that were not in a bag like they should be and now I am trying to stuff the jerk and my back itches and I can’t itch my back because I have my hands up a turkeys butt.” Jenny gives me a death look as I hold back a laugh; walking up to her I scratch her back for her.
“Ahhh that feels good, thank you. I can now defeat the turkey!”
“What do you need me to do?” I ask, taking a sip of my orange juice.
“I thought you’d never ask. You can sit at the table and peel these.” She hands me the bag of potatoes.
***
We’re putting the finishing touches on dinner. Stretching my hands I feel the aches in them, I never want to peel another potato again. The guys are watching football and randomly yelling at the television, I’ve dropped a plate twice now due to their shouting. I mean really, I understand the need to cheer for your team but I’m about to whack one of them over the head with a frying pan. Jenny even had me make the pumpkin and apple pies for dessert and with how busy I am I haven’t had a chance to sit down and wallow in grief and self pity. I’d never admit this to her but it made me feel important to make the pies. Yes, eighteen year old me has never made pies before. My mom rarely let me in the kitchen. Here is hoping they taste good.
Jenny calls the guys in and we sit down to eat. She has us hold hands and says a prayer. “Lord, it has been a rough few months with the loss of my sister, Molly, Dan and Lexi. Lord we are thankful Hadley is here with us.” She squeezes my hand. “Blessed is the Lord our God. Thank you for this food. Amen.”
Everyone says amen but me. I’m trying to hold back tears as I pick up my fork but one rolls down my cheek. The food tastes like sawdust as I chew and listen to the voices around me. It hits me now that my mind doesn’t have any tasks to keep it from thinking. The guilt I feel for being here and the guilt I feel for being happy for a few hours is excruciating. I can’t do this anymore. Throwing the fork down I look up to see Avery watching me rudely I stand up, leaving the table and walk out the front door.
I put my ear buds in my ear and turn on Disturbed, letting them yell in my ear and drown out the images of the past. I don’t even pay attention to where I’m walking until strong arms wrap around me pulling me to them. I don’t even realize tears are falling down my cheeks until I feel hands wiping the tears off my face.
Inhaling the spicy scent I know immediately that Avery has yet again come to my rescue. Leaning my head on his chest in the middle of an empty field he puts his arms around me and lets me cry and rant at the world. He stays still and rubs my back. Pulling off my ear buds he walks me over to a bench on the edge of the grass. Sitting down he starts talking about the most random things. Like he told me once when he was six he insisted on wearing a dress to school and he once put glue on his teacher’s chair. We stay that way for over an hour with him talking and me listening with my head on his shoulder. Somehow he understands what I need more than myself.
Chapter Eleven
Today is D-Day a.k.a. doctor day. Yay. Not. The problem with going to the doctors is well—they are doctors. I never used to have an issue with them but now I get a case of the shakes just thinking about going there.
“You can do this. You are a strong woman. Are you a woman or a mouse? It’s a stupid doctor’s office.” Staring at myself in the mirror while giving myself my pep talk that honestly really doesn’t help I breathe in deeply.
This time it only took me ten minutes to get into the car and no medicine, only one paper bag to breathe in repeatedly, but I’m in the car and it’s moving and I’m not trying to jump out of it. Granted my eyes are shut but let’s focus on the fact that I’m in the car.
Fortunately, the drive to the doctor’s office doesn’t take very long. I’m not sure how I feel about the stitches coming out. It feels wrong I’m in the getting better physically stage. Stupid I know. With much trepidation I reluctantly get out of the car and wait for Jenny to bring me my crutches.
Walking into the doctor’s office the antiseptic smell hits me straight in the face it’s like walking into an invisible wall of smell. You know that hospital smell? Trying not to inhale by holding my breath I cough and end up inhaling the smell deeply and that sets off all sorts of alarms in my mind. I feel my heart starting to gallop. I have to get out of that office, turning I leave my aunt without a word and walk back out the door letting it slam shut.
Leaning against the wall I start counting back from one hundred, trying to ward off the panic. That smell has been etched in my memory since I woke up in the hospital. My heart continues to pound and all I want is to leave. My fight or flight response is begging me to get out now. Looking towards the glowing red exit sign I start to walk towards it. I’m not sure I can handle this appointment without having another panic at
tack. I feel someone’s hand on my shoulder and look over to see Jenny standing there.
“What happened?”
“It’s the smell, I can’t handle the smell. It brings back so many God awful memories. I can’t go back in there.” I grab her arm, fingernails digging in as I plead with her to let me go. She looks at my hands and grimaces. “Don’t make me go back in there, please?”
Peeling my hands off her arm she looks down at me sympathetically. “I’m sorry sweetie you’ve got to go in.” Running her fingers through my hair, she says, “You have to do this. You are a strong young lady and you can do this.” She maneuvers me back towards the waiting room. Slowly with my head down and her hand now attached to my arm I reluctantly walk back into the waiting room, trying not to concentrate on the smell.
We check in and find seats next to magazines only about a year old. I have this nervous energy around me that makes my leg tremble. Jenny puts her hand on my leg to stop it from tapping the floor. Looking over at her I mouth sorry and start to bite the skin on my thumb instead. Finally after what feels like forever the nurse calls my name and I go to the back room. The doctor walks in jovially, he’s an older man with very little hair and glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose. He looks so creepy that I resist the urge to jump off the table. What is wrong with me? Geez get a grip.
“Hello, Hadley, I’m Doctor Finley,” he says it in this gruff voice as he holds out his hand for me to shake.
Taking his cold hand into mine I smile and nod silently. I’m way too nervous to talk it’s all I can do to get sick right here in front of the doctor. Swallowing uneasily I follow him with my eyes as I watch him picking up the chart and reading it over making hmming noises and writing some things down. Wishing I could see what he was writing I find myself leaning forward as if I could magically see what he has written. Finally he puts his pen down and really looks at me.
“So how are you holding up?”
That’s a great question, I think. Now do I be honest with him or do I fib and tell him I’m fine? I think back to my mom and how she said that it is better to tell a hundred truths than one lie and know what I have to do. No matter how badly it makes me feel.
Looking down at my legs I fiddle with a loose thread on my skirt looking up I glance at the doctors name tag, looking at the block letters I start speaking softly, “I wish I knew how I felt about everything it’s all so jumbled.” Not able to look him in the eye I look at a poster of the food pyramid on the wall. “My emotions feel like a jigsaw. I’m sad, happy, mad, and angry all the freaking time. I don’t understand why I’m still alive half the time and don’t feel like I should be.” I shouldn’t tell him that but the words just pour out like an avalanche. Taking a deep breath I finally look him in the eye.
“My leg still hurts and I’m still taking the pain pills and sometimes the sleeping pills but I’m still having bad nightmares and I have issues with cars and panic attacks.” I throw it all out there my mouth scrambling to catch up with my brain.
He starts scanning my chart again. He thoughtfully taps his cheek with his pen. “I want to go ahead and take out the stitches from your cheek and talk to your guardian about getting you set up with a Doctor and Physical Therapist for your knee. I also want you to stop the heavy pain pills and start using Tylenol and Motrin instead so I won’t write a new prescription for them. Once the stitches come out I don’t want you covering up the scar, it needs to heal . After a week or two you can use a cream to try and lessen the look of the scar if you want.” Just as I think he is done and I’m free to go he drops a bombshell on me. “I also want you to see a trauma psychologist.”
Looking at him I’m aghast. “But I’m doing okay. I haven’t broken down. I.am.okay.” I say through gritted teeth.
“Answer me honestly, don’t bullshit me Hadley.” Tilting my head at him, do doctor’s curse? Isn’t that against some sort of oath they take, that Hippocratic thing? Looking at me he replies, “I’m sure you are okay but after what you’ve told me I think you will really benefit from it. I recommend this to all of my patients who have suffered a loss or been in an accident. Hadley, I really think it would be beneficial to you to start seeing a psychologist. I think these feelings you have are normal but can get worse if you don’t talk to someone, preferably a professional.”
“But I haven’t told you about all of my feelings so how can you have any clue about them?”
Taking his glasses off Dr.Finley looks at me with a look of sadness on his face. “Hadley, losing your family is something you cannot deal with on your own when you have expressed some of what is going on in your head to me. I want you to do this for your own benefit so you can lead a normal life. I don’t want to get called in one night because you overdosed or even worse are in the morgue.”
I am struck silent, I have no words. I cannot even respond to him because his words are true. When he finally does stop talking he moves to the tray of evil looking instruments and sets them next to me telling me to look at the wall.
“Let me know when you’re going to cut the stitches.” Holding my breath, I’m secretly craving the pain when he cuts the stitches off, but am disappointed when I feel none.
I hear him taking his gloves off and throwing them in the trash. “We are done, great job Hadley,” he says while wiping his hands with sanitizer. “Tell your Aunt to come in once you get into the waiting room I want a word with her, please.”
Handing me my crutches, I slink out of the room. I’m left mulling over what he said about therapy while they’re talking. I should have lied. Should have said I was okay. Damn it. I don’t want to see a shrink. I’m fine.
After awhile my Aunt walks out of the room clutching a packet of papers to her chest. She smiles at me with what I can only assume is a fake smile since it’s so big. She even make’s a saluting gesture at me. Rolling my eyes I get up and we walk out the door. We don’t really talk on the way to the car but only knowing Jenny for a short time I can tell she is a woman on a mission who is going to make me talk , whether I want to or not.
Touching the sleek metal door of the car stops me cold; my breath comes out in gasps. Jenny looks up from trying to find her keys in her purse to see me having a panic attack and walks over pulling the crumpled brown bag out of her purse. Putting it over my mouth she tells me to breathe in, two, three and out, two, three.
Once my heart feels like I’m not going to have a heart attack I get in the car. The silence is overwhelming and my anxiety is still really high. To take my mind off it and my panic attack I lean forward switching on the radio. Jenny looks over at me and turns it off. My fingers start tapping out a rhythm while I wait until I can turn the music back on. Reaching into my purse I search around for my ipod but fail to find it. Huffing I cross my arms and I stare at the dashboard.
Chapter Twelve
“You hungry?” She looks out her window as we are passing a Taco For You.
“Yeah, But I can’t eat Taco For You anymore.”
We had stopped for Taco’s after Lexi’s recital. I haven’t been able to stomach going back there since the accident. It’s stupid, since the restaurant had nothing to do with the accident but it is what it is.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a sit down restaurant so we can talk.”
“Great,” Mentally kicking myself. Now I’m trapped and we have to talk, just what I don’t want to do. How do I get myself in these situations? I just know she is going to say something about me seeing the psychologist or something. Staring out the window I am full of trepidation as my aunt pulls us into the parking lot. Peering out of the car windshield I see we are at a restaurant called, Jimmy’s Shack only it’s not a shack. It’s a nice looking place; it has as so many different themes going on that I’m starting to think the theme is Chaos. I like it. It’s like the story of my life. Never knowing what is going on or what’s going to happen.
My eyes are so overwhelmed by the décor that I forget Jenny is holding the door open for m
e. I do a double take as I enter the restaurant, as a life sized squirrel holding a circular tray greets us. Who puts a huge squirrel statue in the middle of a restaurant? How very random. I like it. As the hostess seats us I’m assaulted by the rich smells coming from the kitchen.
“Nice squirrel.” I tell the waitress pointing to the statue.
“Thanks!” She bounces her hair back and forth. “That’s the owner’s prize possession. People keep trying to steal it though,” she says her voice flippant.
Hmmm, people trying to steal a life size squirrel. That’s totally not something you hear every day. Shaking my head at the weirdness of it I look over at Jenny who just shrugs. “Have you ever been here before?”
“No, never.” Turning she smiles. “That squirrel was something wasn’t it?”
“Yeah something truly weird.”
We got there before the lunch rush so it’s not very busy. . A Lance Bass look alike takes our drink orders, and once he opens his mouth it’s obvious he bats for the other team. He even had the audacity to comment on my aunt’s knock off Prada bag., I got a perverse pleasure seeing her blush when he said, “Nice knock off.” I’m not even that brave.
What? Don’t look at me like that. He was cute but definitely gay. No straight man would know the difference between Prada and a knock off. He did however cut his tip in half with my aunt. She’s sitting there staring at her purse with a frown of disappointment. Pinching her lips together she puts her purse down neither of us talking. I’m too busy looking around the restaurant, at all the families laughing and smiling and she’s just lost in her thoughts. Aren’t we a bunch of happy go lucky people? Thankfully our food comes before we have to actually make conversation. Never fear though, she decides to wait until we get the food to ruin my appetite. La di freaking da.