Ruined Wings

by Ashley Fontainne

  “Don’t worry, Dr. Brunson. I’ll make sure she sticks to whatever treatment plan you set out.”

  “Good to hear. Now, let me finish up some paperwork and write her prescriptions out so you both can get home. She’s to keep the leg elevated as much as possible and no weight on it whatsoever. Call my office and make a follow-up appointment around four weeks from today.”

  “Pills? What kind of pills?” Callie asked. What if Dr. Brunson wanted her to take something and it didn’t mesh well with the Xanax she’d been pilfering for months from her mother’s stash? Well, she had been, until her mother went back to work and stopped refilling them. Callie had been forced to find other avenues to get the pills.

  “Steroids to help with inflammation and some hydrocodone to take for pain only as needed.”

  Dr. Brunson stepped out of the room, leaving a dazed and confused Callie alone with her distraught mother. Closing her eyes, Callie let the pleasant feeling coursing through her mind and body override the worried murmurs of her mother as she groused about insurance, too many bills, and how in the world she’d pay for them.

  “Want some more water or anything to eat?”

  Callie smiled at Kevin, enjoying the way he’d fawned and hovered over her like a mother hen for the last four hours. “No, I’m fine.”

  Kevin rose from the chair, crossing the room to shut the bedroom door. “Now that you’re coherent again and your mom’s downstairs, I think we need to talk.”

  She didn’t like the tone in his voice. Kevin sounded peeved. “About what?”

  “You. Us. How you’ve changed during the last several months.”

  A ripple of anger rose inside her chest. Callie did her best to keep it under wraps. “Of course I’ve changed! My brother and father died on the same day! Am I supposed to just pretend that didn’t happen?”

  “No.”

  “Then exactly what are you getting at, Kevin?”

  Lowering his voice as he approached the edge of the bed, Kevin replied, “Rumors around school are flying. The word is you’ve been seen in the bathroom taking pills and even buying some from that lowlife druggie, Lisa Bowers. Several people have told me you’ve fallen asleep in English and that you’re failing math—”

  “Math’s always been my weakest subject, Kevin. You know that,” Callie interrupted.

  “Then it’s time to get you a tutor. You really don’t want to fail, do you?”

  “Of course not, but a tutor’s impossible. Mom doesn’t have the money to pay for one.”

  “No need. I’ll find some math whiz at school to help you out. I’m thinking Ricky Weaver. He’s in my Western Civ class, and I’m pretty sure he’d cut off an appendage to spend time with you.”

  “Nice, Kevin.”

  “I’m serious. He asks about you a lot, dropping comments here and there about how lucky I am to be dating such an amazing athlete. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. Now, are we done with this stupid conversation?”

  “Not even close. Rachel mentioned on our way to the hospital about what happened between you and Coach P. She said you were really aggressive, mouthy, and you tripped because you weren’t paying attention. You were too busy flipping off Tim Landers.”

  “The last part is true. He said something ugly to me when I ran past him! The rest is a bunch of crap. You know high school is nothing but a place for people to make up stories about others to fill the void in their own lives. It’s all bullshit.” Callie lied, wondering who in the hell ratted her bathroom activities out. She’d certainly need to be more careful going forward.

  The concerned look on Kevin’s face changed over to irritation. “You’re lying, Callie. Something is going on, and whatever it is isn’t just leftover grief from what happened to your dad and Colton. You’ve been really short-tempered with everyone, including me. Do you realize, or even care, that we haven’t made love in months?”

  “Uh, you work after school every day and on the weekends, remember? Exactly when are we supposed to get freaky? Midnight on Sundays?”

  “That never bothered you before, CeeCee. How many times have I climbed up to the roof and snuck in here? Too many to count—but that’s been ages ago. Every time I’ve brought it up recently, you tell me no. You’re too tired. You’re sleeping more than usual, and I bet,” Kevin reached across the bed for her phone. Callie tried to stop him but wasn’t fast enough. “If I check the running app, it will confirm my suspicions.”

  “Put it down, Kevin!” Callie yelled. “You have no right to—”

  “Yep, I’m right. You haven’t logged in any hours. Have you hit the pavement at all since the last meet?”

  The lie rolled off her tongue with ease. “Of course I have. There’s nothing on the app because I screwed it up and had to delete it and start again.”

  Kevin tossed the phone onto the bed. “Bullshit. You don’t do technology, remember? The correct terms are uninstall and reinstall, and you don’t know how. I think you’re suffering from depression. I talked to your mom while you were sleeping and she said you won’t go to counseling with—”

  Callie lost it. “You did what?”

  “See? That right there—the instant attitude and defensiveness. That’s what I’m talking about.”

  Scooting toward the edge of the bed, mindful of her knee, Callie pointed a finger in Kevin’s face. “I don’t need to be analyzed or scolded, Kevin. Think long and hard about why today was so difficult for me before you assume I’m on drugs or in need of a straightjacket.”

  “I’m aware it was your first time back on the track. That’s why I was shocked when you asked me to wait in the library for you. I assumed you’d want some moral support. I’m also aware tomorrow is your eighteenth birthday.”

  “And Colton’s” Callie added after swallowing the lump of tears in her throat. The truth was she didn’t want Kevin to see her run since she knew her physical state had deteriorated over the months since Colton and her dad died. “You have no idea what’s going on inside my head or how much I’ve suffered. Mom’s working now and exhausted when she gets home. You’ve been busy with work, studying, and school activities. I’m all alone now most of the time. When Mom is here, all she does is worry and stress over money. Thank God she stopped all the sobbing at night. The lawsuits from the accident are freaking her out! She’s even talked about filing bankruptcy and moving into a smaller place. I don’t want to move, Kevin. This is where I grew up. It’s my safe zone.”

  “And your last connection to them both. I get that,” Kevin said, his voice softer and with less edginess. “But you’ve got to learn to move on with your life, CeeCee. Reconnect with your old friends—you know, the ones you’ve shunned during the last two years? Because guess what? In less than six months, you’ll be in college, living in a dorm with a stranger, doing your own thing. Then again, if you don’t pull yourself out of this funk and get your grades up, you won’t be going to college.”

  “It’s an athletic scholarship, not academic like yours.”

  “True, but the prerequisite is that you graduate from high school first.”

  Throwing her hands up in disgust, Callie said, “What do you want me to say, Kevin? That I’m depressed? Lonely? Sad? Scared? Still full of grief? Worried about freaking everything, including us when college starts and you are hours away in Russellville? I’ll be stuck with no way to come visit you since a vehicle is out of the financial cards for me. Okay, there you go—I said it. Yes, I’m a wreck and each day I wake up, I keep hoping I’ll feel better, but I don’t. It just gets worse. I know I’ve been moody, but it’s not because of drugs. It’s because I can’t cope with all these changes. They came too fast and too close together. I’m having a hard time grappling with them all.”

  “Which is why you need to go with your mom to counseling! Let out those feelings to an impartial ear—a person who can provide you tools to cope with the losses. If venting along with your mom is too weird, the
n simply ask for individual therapy.”

  Sensing an opening to end the discussion, Callie calmed down. “You’re right. I’ll start going with Mom.”

  Eyeing her with a mix of suspicion and hope, Kevin asked, “Smart choice and one that will help you deal in healthy ways with the changes in your life. Just one more question: you promise you aren’t using? I mean, I’d sort of understand after all you’ve been through, but numbing the pain isn’t dealing with it, CeeCee. It’s just a fake mask. Don’t get mad at me for saying this, but what happened to Colton proves my point.”

  Reaching out for his hand, Callie tamped down the fury at the mention of Colton’s name and lied. “I swear, not even aspirin. I mean, the doctor at the emergency room gave me a shot of something, but other than that, no. Just—give me time to work through all this with a counselor, okay? It’s not you, I promise. The rumors aren’t true. I’ve never said a peep to or been around Lisa Bowers.”

  “Callie? Another bouquet of flowers arrived. Mmmm, they are lovely roses and carnations and smell heavenly!”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ll send Kevin down to get them and bring them up here. He was just leaving anyway.”

  Kevin smiled after giving Callie a hug. “I’m glad we had this talk. I’ve been worried about you. So has your mom. Counseling is the right step. I just know it. I love you, baby. Remember, I’m here for you. Always and forever.”

  “Me too, babe. Now scoot so I can get some rest. My knee is throbbing.”

  Kevin exited the room and clomped down the stairs. Callie waited for a few seconds then reached under the pillow, grabbing the plastic bottle full of Vicodin. She downed three and had just enough time to hide them before Kevin walked back in. “The card says these are from Russell Clayburn. I think the boy’s got a crush on you.”

  “Doesn’t matter if he does, baby. You’re the only man in my life. Set them over by my computer, okay?”

  After arranging the flowers, Kevin grinned then winked. “If you want to video chat later, I’ll show you mine if you reciprocate. After midnight, of course, when you’re officially eighteen. You know how much I’m a stickler for the rules.”

  Laughing, Callie shook her head. “Uh, you’ll have better luck with that by calling 1-800-Dial-A-Ho. You’re too much. Go before you’re out after curfew and get into trouble.”

  “Bummer! I swear I’m going to drag you into the digital age one way or another. Now that you’re disabled, I stand a good shot.”

  “Will you please go?” Callie said while tears from laughing ran down her cheeks. “It hurts to laugh.”

  “Okay. I’ll be here about fifteen minutes earlier than usual. I figure we’ll need the extra time to get you downstairs and in the car.”

  With that, Kevin left. Her mother stopped in minutes later for a final check before going to bed. Callie assured her she was fine and to get some rest. Within fifteen minutes after her mother left, the pills kicked in, easing the pain in her knee, shoulder, and arm. Glancing at the stitches near her elbow, she smiled. She felt nothing, which was nice.

  “The best part is the way it quiets the mind, isn’t it?”

  Closing her eyes at the sound of Colton’s voice, Callie smiled when his full, real, perfect face appeared. This time, he wasn’t a fuzzy image. It was like he was still alive, full of vibrant color and life. “Yes, it is. This stuff is way better than the Xanax! My God, I had no idea what I was missing. I feel, I don’t know, like I’m floating in warm water surrounded by love. And you’re really here, inside my mind, not just a hallucination.”

  “That’s because our connection is stronger. Those little bars are only benzos. They’re like sparklers—pop, fizzle, and over in a flash. Vicodin is an opiate and allows the mind to expand, and the experience last longer. You’ve ascended to a higher plane. Isn’t it amazing?”

  “Oh, yeah. Amazing,” Callie whispered, unsure if she said the words out loud or only in her mind.

  “You keep taking them that fast and soon, you’ll be out. What then?”

  “I’ll find a way to get more somehow. I’m not giving up this euphoria and the true, real ability to feel close to you again.”

  “That’s my sis—determined to do whatever it takes to get what she wants. Oh, and bravo on standing up for yourself today with that obnoxious coach of yours. He’s an asshole. It was about time you told him to fuck off. And your little acting job with Kevin was quite impressive. You pulled off those lies like a pro. I’m proud of you.”

  “You sound funny, Colton—”

  Callie’s thoughts and words trailed off as the drugs pulled her into a deep, restful sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Five Weeks Later

  “You’ve healed up quite nicely, Callie. I’m thrilled you took my advice and adhered to the treatment plan. Everything looks great. No nerve or ligament damage. There’s hope for breaking the collegiate record for you still!”

  Callie winced while rubbing her knee with sweaty palms. She was jittery, had a pounding headache, and felt sick to her stomach. The original prescription of Vicodin allowed for two refills, but Callie took the last pills five days prior. She missed the effects.

  No, she didn’t miss them. She needed them. Without the pills she’d lost touch with Colton, and it was tearing her up inside.

  Doing her best to keep her voice calm, Callie asked, “Then why does it still hurt, Dr. Brunson? Sometimes at night it throbs so bad I can’t sleep.”

  Dr. Brunson pulled a chair out from underneath the desk. Once seated, he studied her face, and the intense scrutiny sent a shiver of fear up Callie’s spine.

  “Since you’re eighteen now, I can’t discuss my concerns about you with your mother because of HIPPA laws—at least not without your permission.”

  “What is there to discuss with Mom?” Callie asked, doing her best to keep her voice neutral. “You just said there’s no permanent damage.”

  Lacing his fingers together, Dr. Brunson leaned forward. “My concerns have nothing to do with your injury, Callie. It’s about the pills.”

  Stunned, Callie blurted out, “What’s that supposed to mean? You gave them to me, and I took them. End of story. I can’t help the fact my knee still hurts!”

  “Vicodin is a temporary fix for physical pain, not emotional pain. Your knee healed—the X-rays and the notes from your physiotherapist give no indication any residual pain should be present. You refilled the prescription—twice—and my concern is that you might have a problem. Some people do yet don’t know they are susceptible to addiction until their first taste of chemicals.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Dr. Brunson! I’m not addicted to them! I’m just in pain!”

  “I disagree. You’re exhibiting several signs of withdrawal. You’re sweaty and short-tempered, not to mention lying. I see the need behind your eyes. The craving. I also know what happened to your brother, how your father enjoyed drinking a bit too much, and how much Xanax your mother takes.”

  “None of that is your business and has nothing to do with me! Isn’t it illegal to pry into a patient’s life?”

  “Callie, have you forgotten I’ve been your family’s primary care physician for years? I only work at the hospital on occasion because I enjoy the rush of the ER. I am fully aware of the issues within your family.”

  Cringing on the inside, Callie tried to keep her cool. “Again, those things have nothing to do with my knee hurting.”

  “I disagree. The majority of the medical community agrees addiction is a hereditary trait and like other diseases, can remain dormant until something triggers it to—”

  Furious, Callie stood, grabbing her purse from the table. “Think what you like, Dr. Brunson. I’m not a drug addict. Make sure to send the release letter to my coach so I can get back on the track again.”

  “Callie, wait. I’d like to continue—”

  Yanking the door open, Callie stopped and whispered, “One more thing, Dr. Brunson. You don’t have my
permission to discuss whatever imaginary concerns you have about me with my mother or anyone else for that matter. Period. And since I’m eighteen, I think it’s time for me to find a new doctor.”

  Callie left the examination room in a huff. Kevin stood from his spot in the waiting area, immediately sensing something was wrong. “Bad news?”

  Walking past him, Callie headed out the front door into the parking lot. “Yeah, my doctor’s a pompous asshole. Take me home please.”

  Neither said a word until once inside Kevin’s car. After starting the engine, he leaned over and grabbed Callie’s hand. “Okay, talk. Are you going to need surgery or something?”

  Sighing, Callie answered, “No. He just—I don’t know. He was rude and didn’t believe me when I told him my knee still hurts. He had the nerve to say it was all in my head.”

  “Maybe that’s something you should explore with your therapist?”

  Fuming, Callie bit her tongue to control the anger. Yeah, like she’d say anything of meaning or value to Mikki Taylor, the therapist who watched and listened each week with what Callie considered detached boredom. It took several seconds for her to calm down enough to answer. “Yeah, maybe.”

  Silence filled the car the rest of the ride home. Callie swiped a kiss on Kevin’s cheek then watched him drive away. She waited until his car disappeared from sight before pulling out her phone.

  It was four o’clock, and her mom wouldn’t be home until after six. If she pushed herself, she’d have just enough time. Callie scrolled through the numbers until she found the one she’d labelled Renee and then dialed.

  “What’s up?”

  Smiling, grateful Lisa Bowers answered instead of letting the call go to voicemail, Callie said, “Just got back from a visit with the doctor. The good news is my knee is fine—”