I squeeze my eyes shut and sigh.
How did this become my life, and who decided I was adult enough to handle this shit?
“We’ll keep her a few nights for observation,” the middle-aged doctor in a white lab coat drones on. His thin, brown hair is tousled, his dull eyes blinking as he speaks in a professional but flat voice. He sounds like he’s reciting an encyclopedia, as if he’s done this spiel enough times to have it memorized. “We’ll monitor her vitals and treat her for withdrawal symptoms. I’m going to prescribe her something for nausea and start some fluids to prevent dehydration.”
I shake my head. “She’ll just sign out against medical advice when she can’t leave the floor for a smoke. Then she’ll go home and get high again. Isn’t there something else we can do?”
His eyes soften, and he gestures towards a chair in the otherwise empty waiting room where I’ve been pacing. It’s near morning, and we’re the only two people in here. Reluctantly, I sit, feeling too keyed up to remain still but not wanting to be rude. Still, I can’t stop the way my knee bounces up and down. He sits next to me, silently eyeing my restless movements.
“She’s your—”
I nod quickly, stopping him before he can saythatword. She hasn’t earned that title, and I’ve come to loathe the word. It doesn’t hold the same meaning it used to. “Yes.”
“I could have the case manager come by and recommend an inpatient rehab placement. We have some excellent facilities in the area.”
I exhale a shaky breath. “She can’t afford that. She’s in and out of jobs all the time, and she doesn’t have insurance. Isn’t there something else you people can do?” It’s not fair to place the blame on him, but I’ve been through this same song and dance more times than I care to admit. If I could afford to put her in rehab, I would. But waiting tables at a sports bar doesn’t bring in a lot of cash flow.
“I could also recommend an outpatient facility. If she’s serious about making a commitment…”
After that, I tune his words out. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. I’m too disheartened to tell the doctor we’ve tried that already. Evelyn showed up to a couple of meetings, putting on a good show for everyone before coming home and popping more pills. Eventually, she quit trying, and no amount of begging on my part could sway her to change her mind.
Once the doctor leaves me to my internal ramblings, the waiting room becomes eerily silent. Machines beep somewhere nearby, accompanied by the scuff of shoes shuffling down the hallway and the mumbling of voices passing by. The ever-present disinfectant that seems to permeate most hospitals tickles my nose, the little reminders of where I am and why I’m here revving up my anxiety again. Jumping up from my chair, I begin biting my fingernails, the black polish chipping off as I pace back and forth.
I want to call my brother and ask him for advice. I wish he would bulldoze his way in here with that take-charge attitude I sometimes hate and tell me to calm the fuck down. But that’s not an option because then I would have to fess up and tell him about Evelyn. She made me promise not to tell him yet.
“Fuck!” With a closed-mouth scream, I kick the leg of a nearby chair. My lips curl into a grimace, my toes throbbing as the chair screeches across the floor. If I could afford to put her in rehab, maybe the situation wouldn’t be so damn bleak. Having a job that paid more than the scraps of minimum wage would sure fucking help. After graduating a month ago with a degree in graphic design from Crestwood Heights University, I’ve been job hunting nonstop. I’ve had a few interviews, but no call backs.
If somebody would just give me a chance, I could turn shit around. I could fix this, and then maybe Jax won’t be so upset I’ve hid this from him. Maybe it won’t feel like a betrayal of the worst kind. I could get Evelyn into a rehab, and she could be the person she’s meant to be.
I pause in front of the oversized window, peering through the blinds as the sun rises over the asphalt parking lot. There is one option I haven’t wanted to consider yet. Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I pull up my contacts and stare down at Caleb’s name. I’ve been best friends with Caleb since freshman orientation, and I don’t want him to think I’m using him, but his endorsement could help secure me a job at his dad’s company. His dad, Alek, owns a graphic design company in Cedarwood Valley specializing in book covers. The extra wages would cover my bills with enough left over to save for Evelyn's rehab.
Well, the down payment anyway. I’ll worry about the rest when it’s time to cross that particular daunting bridge.
Taking a fortifying breath, I swipe my thumb over the green call button.
“Holy shit on a cracker, why are you calling me at the ass o’clock of dawn?” Caleb’s sleep-addled voice is groggy and thick as he yawns.
My shoulders sag. Being impulsive, jumping into action without thinking about consequences or repercussions for myself or others, seems to be my thing. “I’m sorry, are you still sleeping?”
“Not unless I’m sleep-talking,” comes his amused reply.
I chuckle. “Right. Sorry. Can I ask you for a massive favor?”
“Of course. Is everything okay?” He’s more alert now, rustling bed sheets and clothes as he presumably moves around.
My words come out in a jumbled rush. “I was wondering if you could put a good word in for me with your dad? I put in an application, but I never heard anything back. I’m not sure if it got lost with all the others or maybe I don’t have enough experience, but I was hoping you could talk to him for me.”
There’s a short pause and then a breathy chuckle. “Shit, dude, take a breath.”
My responding laugh is stilted and awkward.
His voice is soft when he speaks again. “Yeah, of course. Like you said, it probably got lost in the pile. I’ll talk to him today, okay?”
A whoosh of air is dragged from my lungs. “Thank you, Caleb. Thank you, I…appreciate it more than you can know.”
“Is everything okay? You sound stressed, and you’ve been kind of MIA lately.” Of course, Caleb would notice something like that, and of course he would care. I hate having to lie to him. My life has been one lie after another lately.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Great.”
