by Q. B. Tyler
“Okay, Ms. Pierce. I don’t know anything about that, it’s possible that they haven’t gotten around to returning your call? The on-call doctors are very busy with on-site patients. They don’t have time to return every phone call the same day.”
I put my head in my hand. This is a nightmare.
“Okay, so when would you suggest we call back?” Drew asks.
“Tomorrow between four and six is the best time to get your brother on the phone.”
I fall backwards on the bed letting out a loud groan. “Oh, for the love of God.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s really all I can suggest.”
“Fine. Wait!” I say. “Family Day…that’s Thursday right?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“What time? I haven’t been able to talk to him, so I don’t know.”
“Noon until three.”
“Great, thanks.”
They better hope they let me talk to him before then, or else I am going to cause the biggest scene of my life.
Wednesday: Day Three
I am a nervous wreck. It’s been three days since I talked to Will. Three goddamn days. Two nights I’ve gone to bed without hearing his voice. Last night, I stared at the ceiling for the majority of the night after Drew and I called, until I finally got up out of bed and started reading the fourth book I’ve downloaded since he left.
I’ve stress baked, cleaned, started researching ideas of where we could travel to, ordered almost two hundred dollars’ worth of baby books on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. I’ve done everything to keep my mind off of the fact that I haven’t talked to Will in over forty-eight hours.
Maybe if I could just get Tucker on the phone. He could tell me what is going on. But how do I even find him? I pull up my phone and Google his name and I’m pleased to see there’s only one Doctor in Atlanta with that name. I dial his office and I’m met with someone I assume to be his secretary. Great. More runaround.
“Dr. Tucker is actually out of office for the week, is there something that another Doctor can help you with?”
This is a complete nightmare. Why can’t I just wake up? “No, I really need Dr. Tucker. If he does return to his office at any point, please have him call Charlotte Pierce. Please do not pass along my message to any other doctor. Only Dr. Tucker.”
“Yes, Ms. Pierce. We take confidentiality requests very seriously.”
“Thank you. My phone number is 404-354-0981.”
“I will pass along the message.”
“Great, thank you.” I fall back onto the pillows and hang up the phone, only to stare at it. I should call again…
“God dammit. It’s not four pm,” I say in a high-pitched voice as I mimic all three of the women who refuse to put me through to Will.
What if I just went…No, tomorrow is family day. You can go tomorrow.
Lauren has been calling me for two days so I’m not totally surprised when she shows up at Will’s door with her hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side. “What the fuck?” she growls as she walks by me. “Why aren’t you answering my calls?” She moves past me.
“Sorry, I’m just…a wreck.” I put my head in my hands as I collapse on the couch in a heap. “I am literally one second from going off the deep end. I can’t get him on the phone. I’ve been calling since yesterday. If I knew I wasn’t going to be allowed to talk to him I could have prepared myself for it. But Will said we would be able to communicate at certain times. And now he’s not talking to anyone.”
“It’s only been what—three days? Maybe they told him the first few days no phone access?”
“Well, he should have told them that someone should reach out to his pregnant fiancée that would worry about him, if that’s the case.” I’m silent for a moment as I prepare myself to voice my fears aloud for the first time. “Lauren, what if something is wrong? What if they’re hurting him or…brainwashing him that this is all my fault? God, what if this is all my fault.” I put my hands over my eyes as I feel the tears forming.
“Charley, this is absolutely not your fault.” She pulls my hands from my eyes. “I don’t know what made Will start drinking like that, but you know it’s not because of you. He worships the ground you walk on, Char. And he just wants to get better, for you and the baby. Even if you convinced him not to turn himself in, and he was still practicing, the guilt could have eaten away at him.”
I let out a sigh. “I’m calling again at four.”
Despite Lauren’s visit, I am still on edge most of the day. Maybe I’m overreacting. Lauren is probably right. They told him that they didn’t want him making any calls and just hadn’t gotten around to calling me to let me know. I purse my lips together. Assholes. I’m not asking for a long phone call. It’s four pm as I settle in to call again.
“It’s Ms. Pierce, again,” I say, recognizing Betty’s voice from the two days before.
“Hi, Ms. Pierce. You still haven’t spoken with Dr. Montgomery?”
“Nope,” I say. “Can I please speak with him, now?”
“Hold on for just a moment.”
Lauren gives me two thumbs up and walks out of the living room towards the kitchen in an effort to give me some privacy.
“Ms. Pierce,” I hear a familiar voice, but not the right familiar voice.
“Dr. Tucker?”
“Yes, hi, how are you?”
“I’ve been better, Doctor. I’ve been trying to talk to Will. I even called your office to see if you could help.”
“Yes, I got the message. My secretary thought it might be important. You sounded…anxious.”
“I am. I want to speak to Will, please.”
“Ms. Pierce,” he sighs and I immediately feel my palms begin to sweat. “A few of the other doctors here, and myself, have advised based on our evaluation that perhaps communication between you two isn’t best.”
“Wait…what?”
“Charlotte, it’s obvious that Will loves you very much. We aren’t in any way, shape, or form suggesting that you aren’t good for him, please don’t misread what I’m saying. But collectively we all want him to get better, to not want to use alcohol as a crutch.”
“Okay…”
“And we’ve noticed some…triggers in him. Ones I hadn’t caught onto because I wasn’t seeing him as much when you began your relationship.”
“I—you’re saying I’m a trigger?”
“When someone is in rehab, we try to prevent any excess, aggressive stimulation.”
“I’m aggressive?”
“His feelings for you are quite…strong.”
“I’m aware. The feeling is pretty mutual. So, let me get this straight—you’re hypothesizing that our love…his love for me caused him to drink?”
“We aren’t saying one is a direct correlation to the other.”
“What are you saying?”
“Charley, he wasn’t drinking like this until just after he started seeing you and your husband. It was exacerbated after his license was suspended.”
“So, it’s my fault?”
“Not at all.”
“But I’m a direct cause of it. So, what’s going to happen when he’s out?”
“The good news is we are early in the process. While he’s been drinking more over the past several months, it does appear it was mostly in social settings. The last two to three weeks is where we see the problems.”
I’m silent, stunned, speechless. So, I was right. “I can’t even speak to him for just a moment, to tell him I love him?”
“Charley…he knows you love him.”
“But I want to hear his voice.”
“Do you want to hear his voice more than you want him home?”
“Of course, not but…”
“He’s progressing really well already. He’s just not…he’s not in a place to handle talking to you right now. We have also noticed some signs of codependency, and we are thinking a week will do you both some good.”
Codependency? We’re in
love and yes, it’s intense, but who are you to fucking judge? “He said that?”
“Of course not, he’s climbing the walls in here to talk to you.”
“Is…he’s okay, right?”
“Yes, he’s fine, Ms. Pierce. Maybe a little homesick. But he knows that this is necessary.”
I wipe at the constant flow of tears. “So, I can’t come tomorrow?”
“We won’t be allowing visitors tomorrow.”
“None? Not even Drew?”
“Ms. Pierce, Drew is another one of his triggers so no, he wouldn’t be allowed either.”
“What kind of bullshit are you telling him? We’re his family! You can’t tell me we’re triggers because we love him too much. What kind of quack are you?! And how can you even be telling me this, aren’t you breaking doctor patient confidentiality?”
“I have in writing a signed form from Will authorizing me to speak with you on any and all matters.”
“How is Drew a trigger?”
“There are…issues from their childhood that Will hasn’t completely worked through.”
I guess what he was telling me affects him more than he let on.
“Can he still come home Monday?” I whisper, fearing that they’re about to tell me they want to keep him for the month, which I read online was a real thing.
“That is the plan we have in place. We are on track for that.”
“If I send him something, can he have it?”
“Like what?”
“A letter?”
“How is that any different from talking to him?”
“So, he’s just supposed to think that I’ve forgotten about him? That I don’t care at all? That I haven’t been trying to talk to him?”
“He knows, Ms. Pierce. He knows you’ve been calling.”
At this point, Lauren finds her seat on the couch next to me, and gives me a sad smile, no doubt having heard my half of this conversation. She grabs my free hand and squeezes it. “Will you tell him…that I love him?”
“That I can do.”
“And that I’ll be there on Monday.”
“Yes.”
“Okay and—”
“Miss Pierce, I suggest you get some rest. Everything is going to be okay.”
“Fine.”
“Have a good night, Charlotte.”
“Same, Doc,” I say before I hang up and Lauren’s arms are around me instantly as the tears stream down my face.
* * *
Thursday: Day Four
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR mind!?” I scream. “You can’t tell her she can’t come here. It is literally the ENTIRE point of having a Family Day. It’s not just for the people in here, but for the people OUT THERE too!” I shout as I point out the window.
Tuck and Patterson have just sat me down to let me know that they’d informed Charley that I wasn’t permitted to have any visitors. This is on top of the rule that I can’t even speak to her on the phone.
“Will, I know that this is difficult to process, but as we’ve told you when we discussed the phone calls. We need to avoid any aggressive triggers until we get to the root of the issue and why you’ve returned to alcohol for a second time,” Tuck says.
“Charley is not the problem,” I grit out, my hand flexing angrily. Don’t come within swinging range of me Tuck, I mean it.
“Problem is not the appropriate word. But she is the catalyst.”
“This is bullshit. You can’t keep me from her.”
“Actually Montgomery, we can,” Patterson interjects. “And we are. You entered voluntarily, but you know how it works even with voluntary admission.”
“It’s one week, Will,” Tuck tells me, and I resist the urge to punch him square in the face, completely fed up with his I’m on your side rouse.
“What are you even telling her, Mitch?” Patients aren’t technically supposed to refer to the doctors by their first names, but I’m sick of them acting like they don’t know who the fuck I am in the medical community.
“I…told her what she needed to know.”
“Which was?” Don’t beat around the fucking bush.
“That the focus is to make sure that you don’t return to alcohol. That once you leave you don’t return to old habits. We need you focused and we don’t need any distractions.”
“She’s not a distraction.”
“You’ve certainly been very focused on her and when you could talk to her since you’ve arrived,” Patterson says.
“Because she’s my fiancée and I worry about her.”
“Kip, I have it from here,” Tuck says effectively dismissing Patterson. He nods before finding the exit.
As soon as the door closes behind him, he unleashes his thoughts on me in a very unprofessional manner. “You are obsessed with this woman, Will. She is absolutely the reason why you’ve started drinking again! How the hell can’t you see that?!” I can literally feel the daggers coming out of my eyes in response to Tuck’s outburst but he continues despite my deadly look. “You broke up a fucking marriage. AS. A. MARRIAGE COUNSELOR. You mentioned in your first evaluation that you started drinking earlier this year, around the time you started seeing Charley.”
I feel my palms begin to sweat hearing him say her name.
“Do you really not see the correlation? You couldn’t have her so you drank, then you had her but not on your terms. We both know lack of control is one of your triggers, so again, you drank. Are you REALLY telling me that you haven’t put it all together yet? You haven’t connected point A to point B? You wanted to be with her, you couldn’t be with her—SO. YOU. DRANK. The question I want to know is HOW DO WE AVOID THIS IN THE FUTURE?!” he yells. “I’m not doing this with you every time you throw a temper tantrum for not getting your way, Will!”
I stare at him hard, my cold eyes angry and unforgiving. “How fucking dare you!”
“Will—” he sighs. “You and I both know, I’m not just your counselor in here. I won’t sugarcoat it for you.” I don’t bother to listen to anything he has to say before I’m out the door slamming it behind me.
I’m hitting the pavement hard, one foot after the other as I run my eighth lap around the track indicating that I’ve hit two miles. If only I could hop over the fence in the distance and run home. I slow my feet to a stop and check the stopwatch on my wrist missing the Rolex that usually sits there instead. Leave all valuables at home is one of the rules that they stress the most before entering any rehabilitation facility. I shake my head as I think about the most precious of my valuables sitting at home probably thinking that I’m just avoiding her calls.
How could Tuck say all of that? He doesn’t even know her!
But he does know you, My subconscious bites back.
“You ready to sit down and talk? Or are you just going to avoid me and spend the morning running laps around his track?”
I look over to see Tuck leaning against the rail separating the track from the stands and I feel a fiery rage building underneath my skin.
“Fuck you, Tuck,” I growl, the last four days have been nothing short of what feels like a hostile takeover of my life; something I’d only witnessed in extreme situations. I’ve been drinking heavily again for the past two weeks and they’re treating me as if I’ve had a bottle a day for the last forty years. Despite the issues that I’ve had with alcohol before, this is extreme. I look down at my watch. Twelve minutes, not bad. How fast I can run a mile feels like the only thing that’s gotten better since I’ve been here.
“I’m sorry for losing it like that,” Tuck says and he shakes his head. “I just want what’s best for you. I’m disappointed that you’re in this situation…not just the alcohol, but getting suspended, getting involved with a patient…I thought you knew better.”
“Save me the lecture, Tuck. I’m not in the mood.” Especially after you unleashed all that bullshit on me this morning.
“I shouldn’t have said what I said, but…you know, deep down, you’re drinking again becau
se of some deep-rooted issue that stems from her.”
I scoff. “No. I was drinking because I lost my job.”
He interrupts. “Because you were sleeping with her.”
“It doesn’t make it her fault.”
“I know that, and I know you believe that, but somewhere inside of you…you may be fearing the resentment that may come later. The resentment towards her for losing your job even though it’s not her fault—entirely. You did take a lot of risks in being with her—continuing your relationship. Maybe that’s what’s led you back to alcohol. Whatever it is, we need to exorcise it.”
My hands are on my hips as I pace back and forth, trying to calm my racing heart.
“And you think keeping me away from Charley is helping? Not letting me talk to her? Not letting her come and visit me here?” I rub my head thinking about the screaming match from this morning. “You’ve never been like this. You’ve always had my back—”
“You think I don’t have it now?”
“Why can’t I talk to her? What if she needs me or something’s wrong?”
“Will, she’s fine. I relayed everything she said last night on the phone. She’s okay. She misses you and she loves you. We’ve talked about why we advised severing communication.”
“Because of this bullshit you’re trying to pass off as your evaluation? Thinking that she’s a trigger?”
“Will—” he starts.
I raise my hand, effectively cutting him off. I can’t listen to this shit anymore. “No. Okay? I’m done. I’m fed up with this. It’s like you’re all in cahoots to punish me a step further than the suspension. I don’t want to hear anything else from you or anyone here. Just leave me be for the next three days.”
I begin running again, and hear him call after me. I let my mind drift back to the session on the second day where they informed me that they hadn’t been letting Charley’s calls through and that there would be no communication between us for the next five days. My blood begins to boil as I pick up the pace.
Two days prior:
“How did you sleep, Will?” Tuck asks as he sits across from me, sliding his frames over his eyes.