Just dropped him off.
How’s Charlie?
God damn.Scrolling through weeks of chatter about my baby sister’s recovery would be a painful reliving of my worst mistake.All part of my penance, I guess.
MOM
They’re taking her off the ventilator today.
Swelling in her brain has gone down.
ELLIOT
That’s good, right?
MOM
It is, but we don’t know how much damage there is yet. She might be confused when she wakes up.
ELLIOT
Yeah. Okay. Let me know when she’s awake.
The first few weeks in rehab had been the hardest—on multiple levels. Not only was I drying out and puking my way through cocaine withdrawal, but I was desperately waiting for any updates on my sister from Mom through Jackson. He told me just enough to keep me sane, but not so much that’d I’d spiral and dwell on the pain I’d caused.
“She’s alive.”
“She’s doing better.”
“She’s recovering well.”
The rage came in waves those first few weeks. But Jackson saw right through my bullshit from day one.
“You’re not special,” he’d told me during our first session, leaning back in his chair like he had all damn day to wait me out.“Every addict who walks through those doors thinks their situation is different. That they’re here for noble reasons. That they can handle more information, more contact, more everything than we’re willing to give them.”
I’d wanted to punch his smug face. Instead, I’d gripped the arms of my chair until my knuckles went white and spat out,“My sister is in a coma because of me.”
“I know.”His calm voice had only pissed me off more.“And knowing every detail of her condition right now won’t help either of you.”
He’d been right, of course. Fucking therapists.
I kept scrolling through the texts, watching my family’s life continue without me. Mom’s constant updates about Charlie’s progress. Tessa’s random funny stories trying to lighten the mood. Elliot’s short, practical responses. Jasper’s occasional check-ins.
MOM
Charlie asked for Chase today
NATALIE
Did you tell her where he is?
MOM
Yes. She cried a little but said she was proud of him.
My throat tightened. Jackson had waited three weeks to tellme Charlie was awake. Another two before he told me she’d asked about me.
“You need to focus on your own recovery first,”he’d said.“You can’t help her if you’re still wrestling your own demons.”
