Race to Recovery (Full Throttle)

by Faust, Megan

  There were more people in the dining room that morning and Brant actually had to wait in line. He could smell the coffee and his stomach rumbled audibly. Behind him a female voice said, “It sounds like you have a healthy appetite.”

  He glanced up at the red head and his eyes hardened. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh, don’t be so cold,” she said with a radiant smile and a flick of her hair. “You’re too cute to be an asshole.”

  “We could test that,” he growled, moving ahead with the line, “But you might not like it.”

  She laughed. “What’s your name?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I’m Penelope, well, Penny. But don’t let the name fool you. I’m not cheap.”

  Brant glared and turned to eye the selection of cold cereals. The all looked like they were healthy and bland.

  Penny elbowed him in the arm. “Come on, it was a joke. You’re supposed to laugh and tell me your name.”

  He moved down the line and grabbed a plate from the pile and cutlery from the tray.

  Penny took bran flakes and flicked her hair again. “You know, this place is like a health spa. I’ve lost five pounds since I arrived. And I’m kicking the habit. I mean, that’s what we’re all here for, isn’t it? But on the plus side I’ve never been this successful at dieting before.”

  “Pancakes or French toast?” asked a bored looking middle-aged woman in a hair net.

  “French toast, four slices.” The requested food was dropped on his plate and he moved on, ignoring Penny who was telling the poor woman that the pancakes should be made with whole grain flour.

  Unfortunately the line was still crawling along and Penny quickly caught up with him as he was grabbing condiments. “You know, French toast is pretty healthy if you eat it plain. And you’d get to enjoy the flavour more. The margarine is nothing but fatty oils and the syrup is pure sugar.”

  “That’s why I like them,” he growled and added extra syrup to his plate for spite.

  Penny reached past him and grabbed a bowl of watermelon cubes. “Watermelon actually has negative calories because of all the water in them and the sweet taste is all natural, healthy, sugars.”

  Brant gritted his teeth and grabbed an empty mug. When he reached for the coffee pot Penny started in on the evils of caffeine and that was all Brant could take. “You know, you’re a lot more attractive with your mouth shut.”

  Her eyes went wide. “That is by far the rudest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Really? I can do better.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  “No, really. You’re too dense to take a hint and…”

  A warm hand gripped Brant’s shoulder and a calm male voice said, “Brant Bye isn’t it? Dr. Hurd asked me to come down and talk to you about your evaluation. Sorry, Penny, I’ll have to steal this one.”

  “He’s all yours,” she said with an indignant huff.

  “Who are you?” Brant growled as the young man waved to the lady working the till and pulled Brant out of line.

  “I’m Dr. Sebastian Keaton, one of the center’s psychologists. Where were you planning to sit?”

  Brant almost said, ‘anywhere’, but the he caught sight of the blonde from the day before sitting alone and picking at a single pancake. He pointed to the open table just to the left of her and grunted, “Right there.”

  Dr. Keaton followed him and sat across from him. “Dr. Hurd said he explained about the evaluation and follow up visits.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that but it is mandatory for all patients. Now, I understand you had someone with you when you checked in; your brother, I believe?”

  “Yeah, my brother is here to support me, why?”

  “I’ll want to talk to him as well—not about you, just about the role of a support person. I have some articles he may want to read.”

  “Fine. Talk to him. I don’t care.”

  “All right. I don’t have any regular appointments until after lunch so why don’t we meet right after breakfast?”

  “I have to wait for my brother. He should be here soon.”

  “Don’t worry, Dr. Hurd will let him know where you’ve gone. I’ll see you in a short while. Oh, I guess you haven’t seen the offices yet. I’ll meet you at the foot of the stairs. Enjoy your breakfast.” He tapped the top of the table and wandered away.

  Brant glared at the doctor’s back and stabbed a chunk of French toast. No Seth this morning, and then Penny harasses me, and now some idiot doctor wants to get his nose in my personal business. Can this day get any worse?

  His gaze fell lazily on the blonde who, in his anger, he had momentarily forgotten about. She hadn’t made much of a dent in her pancake and it didn’t look like she’d had anything else. She held her coffee cup in both hands, her elbows propped on the table as she blew on it and sipped carefully.

  He ate slowly, watching her from the corner of his eye. It was strangely relaxing just to sit there and see how she cut her pancake or spread the jam. Her every movement was tiny and delicate and precise. She chewed slowly, she sipped slowly, and he gaze never wandered from her plate and cup.

  He’d finished two slices of French toast before she’d finished her pancake and his coffee had run out but he was afraid she’d vanish if he went to get a refill. He was so preoccupied by her that he hadn’t thought of a single complaint about the food. He’d just made up his mind to talk to her, maybe offer to refill her coffee while he was up refilling his own, when Seth came in, unnoticed, with his grocery bag.

  When Seth dropped into the chair Dr. Keaton had vacated three slices of French toast earlier, Brant finally did notice and looked up, perturbed by the interruption.

  “I couldn’t find much but it should do you in a pinch. How’s breakfast?”

  “Fine,” he said, unwilling to admit that he hadn’t really tasted a single bite. “Are you going to eat?”

  “No, I ate already.” He leaned back and noticed the frail blonde. She looked even paler this morning but that could have been the white sweater she was wearing. She was eating as though she were afraid of the food. He dismissed her and turned back to Brant. “I got you some food but there’s not a lot that Dr. Hurd and those orderlies will let in.”

  “I’ll look at it later. I have my evaluation this morning. Get me another cup of coffee, will you? Or I’ll be late.”

  Seth rolled his eyes and took the mug.

  With Seth momentarily out of the way Brant slid his chair closer to her table and leaned over. “Good morning,” he said. Even though he had kept his voice down, mainly to avoid alerting Seth, she jumped in her seat and turned to stare at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Brant.”

  She kept her chin tucked and her eyes kept darting around, never meeting his gaze and never lingering on his face for longer than a second. “Uh, hi,” she managed.

  Something in her voice tugged at Brant’s heart in a strange way. He didn’t understand it but he knew he had to get to know her if only so he could hear her speak again. “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice coming out even gentler than he’d intended.

  Seth set the cup down on the table. “Your coffee.”

  Brant cursed silently and turned. “Thanks Seth.” Behind him he could hear her chair scraping against the floor. He turned again but she was already halfway to the pile of dirty trays, her unfinished breakfast in hand. “Dammit,” he growled. “I didn’t get her name.”

  “You probably scared her,” Seth said.

  “Can it, Seth.” He watched the girl hurry out of the room and pushed back from the table.

  “Where are you going? What about your coffee?”

  “You drink the damn coffee. I have an appointment with the idiot head-doctor.” Brant stormed off leaving Seth feeling confused and frustrated.

  * * * *

  Dr. Keaton’s office was no more than a finely furnished broom closet. Brant could feel the
walls pressing in on him as he sat in the arm chair looking everywhere but at Dr. Keaton. “I thought you’d have a couch and a notepad,” Brant said.

  “I get that a lot actually but I find most people are more comfortable just sitting. So tell me, when did your problem start?”

  “You mean how long have I been an addict?”

  “It’s sometimes hard to pinpoint when a person moves from freely choosing to absolute dependency. Why don’t you tell me why the doctors prescribed the pain killers in the first place?”

  “I broke my foot.”

  “Did you fall out of a tree?”

  “I was in a car accident. I’m a stock car driver and someone sabotaged my car.”

  “And your broken foot was your only injury?” His eyes were wide with genuine surprise.

  “Yeah. I got lucky.”

  “Seems like pretty strong drugs for a broken foot.”

  “Okay, I crushed my foot and ankle. We were lucky the car was still driveable.”

  “And did you drive with a crushed foot and ankle?”

  “Yeah,” Brant said. It was truth, he had driven, but he knew he had to voice the lie that had saved his career. “I drove the heat trials and the big race. They gave me stronger meds when I went in for the second cast.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “TIME”

  “Hmmm. That’s a pretty short time to become dependent and realize you’re dependent and seek help.”

  “If you’re questioning whether or not I’m here of my own free will or by my own choice or whatever ….”

  “No, no, it’s not that. I’m quite amazed, that's all. A lot of patients I’ve dealt with have been addicted for years, living in denial, usually keeping it a secret from loved ones, before they realize they’re putting a lot of important things at risk and come looking for help. So the doctors gave you a prescription, and then what?”

  “I told everyone that airport security had confiscated it and my family doctor wrote me another prescription.”

  “That gave you two half bottles. What did you do when that ran out?”

  “I bought a bottle off the street. I got halfway through that before I made it here. Do you need to know how many pills I took each day or how often I took them?”

  Dr. Keaton took Brant’s belligerent attitude in stride and shook his head. “Not necessary right now. Tell me, do you ever get phantom pains in your foot?”

  The very question made his foot ache dully. “I’m fine,” Brant growled.

  “Does anyone besides your brother know about your addiction?”

  “No.”

  “You mentioned stock car racing, when did you start that?”

  “At sixteen.”

  “So nearly ten years. Was this your only accident?”

  “No.”

  “But no other injuries?”

  “Nothing worse than a little whiplash and the occasional sprain.”

  “Then you’re either lucky or really good at driving. Tell me, what does your father do?”

  “Farms potatoes.”

  “And your mother?”

  “Same thing.”

  “Anyone else in the family?”

  “I have a kid sister and I don’t want to talk about her.”

  “That’s fine. So why’d you tell your brother and nobody else about your problem? Did you think they wouldn’t help?”

  “My father would have kicked me out on my ass with nothing. My manager would have walked away and found another driver to represent. My sister and I aren’t talking; she’s turned her back on me. My mom might have helped a little until my father found out and put an end to that. So no, I don’t think they would have helped at all.”

  “You seem pretty certain.”

  “I know my family.”

  “But your brother helped.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I guess you two are close.”

  Brant shrugged.

  “Okay, today was just an evaluation so, before I get into the nitty-gritty stuff I’ll let you go for the day. I want to see you for half an hour to an hour every other day for five visits and then we’ll re-evaluate. Let’s say at one pm starting in two days.”

  “Why so much?”

  “Five visits is the minimum required to earn an ‘all-clear’ from one of the staff doctors. I thought you’d want to get them out of the way as quickly as possible.”

  “Of course I do. I’d rather not talk at all.”

  “I can tell. Well, I won’t harass you anymore today. I’ll see you in two days and we’ll talk about cravings and symptoms and way to combat them. All right?”

  “Yeah. Whatever.” Brant ignored the offered hand and walked out of the office closing the door hard enough to emphasize his displeasure.

  He crossed paths with Seth and an orderly in the hallway. “You could have warned me they wanted to see me,” Seth quipped.

  “Can it,” Brant growled without stopping.

  Seth watched him disappear and shook his head before entering the office indicated by the orderly. There was a professionally dressed man waiting for him.

  He smiled and offered Seth a hand. “Seth, right? I’m Dr. Keaton.”

  “I didn’t realize I needed treatment too,” Seth said, shaking his hand.

  Dr. Keaton was far more receptive of Seth’s humour than Brant, or even Dr. Hurd. “No, no treatment, I promise. Have a seat. Did you want some coffee?”

  “No, thank-you. What is this about? Is Brant in trouble already?”

  “No, nothing like that. We offer support to the family members who come regularly to help the patients with their recovery so if you have any questions or need any help, we’re here.”

  “That’s good to know. I was feeling a little out of my depth with Brant. He sort of dragged me into this without warning.”

  “I can’t say I blame you. Tell me, is he always this belligerent or is this something brought on by the drugs?”

  “Oh no, that’s just Brant. He’s been like that since he turned sixteen and Dad put him in a stock car for the first time. You get used to it.”

  “He said you’re the only one who knows about his addiction. Is there anyone else who can help you help him?”

  “Chloe’s the only one who might take this in stride, Chloe’s our younger sister, but they had a falling out and won’t have anything to do with each other.”

  “So you’re all the support he has?”

  “Yeah. I’m used to it though. I’m his mechanic, I solve all his problems with his car and he thinks that means I’ll solve all his life problems too.” Seth shrugged. “I’m not making this harder for him by saying these things, am I?”

  “On the contrary, now that I know his attitude is normally that bad I won’t try to cure him of it. I won’t keep you. Let me just give you this booklet to read over. I’m free in the mornings, most of the time, if you have any questions or concerns.”

  “If I do I’ll come looking for you. Oh, and don’t take offense to Brant, he’s not that bad.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. And Seth, addicts only get better if they choose it, we can’t force it on them.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that with Brant. No one can make him do anything that’s not his idea, that’s just who he is. Thanks for the booklet.”

  * * * *

  Seth and Brant spent the rest of the day in the walled garden at Seth’s suggestion. At least out here Brant’s bitching isn’t as overwhelming. And the cold isn’t so severe here, not like at the farm. The winds get so cold near Sturgis. It’s like a little reprieve before going home and dealing with the inevitable snow.

  Brant had been complaining about the selection of groceries Seth had bought, the cool breeze, the brightness of the sun, his own general sense of boredom, and the stupidity of Dr. Keaton. Seth, for his part, tuned out most of the ranting, making non-committal, thought mostly sympathetic, noises at appropriate times.

  When Brant fell into a silence that lasted
longer than a minute or two Seth’s attention perked and he looked around. There was no one else in the garden that he could see, no sudden change in the weather, no wildlife, and yet something had caught his brother’s attention. A second, slower, visual sweep of the surrounding area revealed nothing in the garden but Seth could see a pale figure through one of the main floor windows.

  “Hey, isn’t that the girl you were talking to this morning?”

  “I was trying to talk to her but you scared her off.”

  “I don’t think she wanted to talk to you in the first place, Brant. I didn’t scare her off; I just gave her the opportunity to leave.”

  “Can it, Seth,” Brant snapped. He got up and stormed back inside. As soon as the screen door snapped shut behind him his demeanor changed from despondent to timidly hopeful. He made his way through the building to the library. Hovering in the doorway he didn’t see anyone. Did I miss her? I didn’t pass her on my way here.

  The soft sound of a book being placed back on a shelf drew him around to the far side where she stood reading the back of a paperback novel. He took a deep breath and said, “They have a pretty impressive library here.”

  She jumped like he had hurled insults at her at full volume and she took a step back.

  He pulled a random book off the shelf and smiled at her. “I’m sorry I keep startling you. I saw you at breakfast this morning; I never got your name.”

  She clutched the book to her chest. “If you’re looking for … for … anything talk to Penny. I’m not interested.” Her voice shook and it was so quiet he wasn’t sure he’d really caught every word.

  “I’ve met Penny. She’s a horribly dense and abrasive woman. I’m not looking for anything, I promise.”

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head and stepped back again. “I don’t want any trouble, or any friends.”

  “I’d just like to know your name. Please?”

  There was something in the way he said ‘please’, something so honest, so free of any attempt to manipulate or cajole her that for a split second she stopped shaking and looked him in the eye. “I’m Alice.”