by Flatman, NJ
We walked the strip for hours, going in and out of beach shops and other venues. I found myself staring at t-shirts, shot glasses, keychains and other mementos that people would normally buy to take home. I struggled between a small token to remember the trip and the fact that I wanted to forget everything about it.
One look at the amusement park located right on the strip and Colby turned into a child. Her eyes grew wide and her smile spread across her face.
“Come on Spencer,” she pulled at my arm. “We have to ride a few rides.”
I agreed out of obligation to her. It was fun, but every ride made me think of Avery. I could picture her excitement as we sat atop the ferris wheel and looked across the ocean. Even the carousel would have been a thrill. She made everything more fun. As much as I tried to drown out the thoughts so that I could enjoy the time with Colby, it just didn’t happen. And she was smart enough to notice. I assumed that’s why suddenly she announced her boredom and hunger.
We walked until we saw a busy beach side cafe. Colby chose there to eat because we could sit and watch the water while we did. At least that’s what she said. My guess was the enormous amount of people— including many young and attractive guys— having drinks swayed her just a bit. But it didn’t matter to me, so that’s where we went.
Turned out the cafe was only a pit stop. After a good burger and a couple of beers Colby was ready to head out for the nightlife. That meant stops at several bars as she made her way around and enjoyed dancing with many of the other tourists.
Our last stop was only because she’d heard from someone at one of the bars that it was a must see. A small hole in the wall bar called the Bowery was apparently one of the most well known places in town. But given that it was a country bar and neither of us liked country music I wondered why we ended up finishing our evening sitting inside of it.
Someone told me as I ordered a drink that it’d been the founding spot for a country music group I’d never really heard of. Alabama I think is what he called them. I told him I’d have to check out their music sometime and he looked at me like I was crazy. I was pretty sure I heard some comment that included the words ‘Damn Yankees’ as I made my way back to the table.
Colby, however, had found what she was looking for. A cute young guy decked out in cowboy hat and boots was hanging on every word she said. I just sat back and watched as she worked her flirting magic on the guy, fully expecting that I’d be returning to the room alone.
That wasn’t the case as Colby gave him her number and made her way back to the table with a quick reminder we should probably get back. I was a bit surprised that she’d chosen to leave with me and not the wannabe rodeo guy, but I didn’t ask. My guess was that she was where I was. Faking happiness was okay, but trying to fake more than that just wasn’t going to happen.
We opened the door to our shitty room, both exhausted from a day of walking, and agreed to pack in the morning. Instead we fell into bed, neither of us bothering to change and began to drift off into sleep.
“Spencer?” Colby’s voice startled me just as I’d almost been fully asleep.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.” It was all she said before I heard her quiet snoring. It was all she needed to say. Both of us had lost something on the trip. That day had been about trying to find something worthwhile to take home with us. And mostly just being there for each other as we both fell apart.
Chapter 22
“God damn it!” I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. I was driving faster than I should be to get to the hospital. “Why tonight?” I asked myself. “Why now?”
I hated myself. Seeing the tears on Avery’s face and hearing her say all of those things had killed me. I hated myself for what I’d done to her. She actually believed she wasn’t good enough for me. How the hell did that happen? God, she was so good. So pure. So perfect. And I’d lied to her face and then taken her home.
We were almost at the point of being okay. Then the damn phone rang. I couldn’t tell her. She didn’t even know the rest. I couldn’t tell her about the call. So I had to take her home. Drop her off with more secrets to worry about. Rush to the hospital and hope like hell Avery didn’t give up on me.
“Kevin Phillips?” I announced to the lady at the desk. I didn’t know where he was or what was going on. Hell I could have been too late. But I’d gotten there as fast as I could.
“Are you family?” she asked, her question scaring me. Had something gotten worse?
“Yes,” I answered, pulling out my license. “I’m Spencer, his brother.”
“Please have a seat and someone will be with you shortly.”
I turned and looked at the waiting room. Hard plastic chairs lined the walls and were almost all full. People waited. Some to be seen. Some to see others. Some to find out it was over. The only remaining spot was stuffed in between a heavyset man and an elderly woman. I opted to stand. Made it easier to stress out.
I wasn’t very patient at anything, and this was worse than most. I didn’t want to sit among crowds of sad, injured and sick people and wait. I needed to go back and see my brother. I needed to know that me screaming at him wasn’t going to be the last words he’d hear. What the fuck was wrong with me?
A young girl sat across the room, staring into space. She was about Avery’s age and reminded me a lot of her. Her eyes were distant. Her face cold and emotionless. She had been damaged by the world at an early age. It showed in her expressions. In the blank stare she held.
I watched a doctor walk up to her, saw her eyes fill with tears but never really show any feeling. She was receiving bad news. It hurt her. But she’d been hurt beyond the point of being able to be surprised. She simply nodded and stood, walking out of the emergency room without whoever she’d walked in with. That was my fear. Seeing Avery look like that.
“Mr Phillips?” I heard a voice behind me and I turned.
“Yes?”
“Come with me please,” she spoke softly and turned to walk back through the double doors.
I followed, trying to avoid the eyes of everyone that looked in my direction. I passed rooms of people talking, some laughing and even more crying. I heard words of anger, words of heartache and even some of thankfulness.
The doctor— I presumed based on her attire— led me through corridors of these rooms and nurses stations. We made our way through another door and she stopped at what appeared to be some type of office.
“Have a seat,” she waved me into the room. “I’ll be right back.”
I sat there, staring at a desk and the diplomas on the wall and waited. I had no idea what type of news I was in for— but the fact I’d been pulled back to a private office told me that it wasn’t very good.
“Sorry about that,” she announced as she came into the small room and shut the door. “I’m Dr. Jenison, one of the ER staff.” She told me, holding out her hand to shake mine.
I noticed her red hair, short and kept neat against her pale skin. She wasn’t big, but her grip was strong and forceful. She had seen and done a lot over the past couple of decades and it was obvious in her mannerisms.
I felt my stomach clench as I wondered what talk she was about to have with me. I’d never be able to live with myself already. I’d left him. I’d been angry. He’d promised me to stop his shit so he could meet Avery and he didn’t keep it. I wanted out of his place.
And now I sat there in a cramped office outside the ER and wondered if I’d get a chance to say anything else to him. I needed to. I wanted to.
“Mr Phillips,” she opened a file and began to speak. “Your brother was brought in because he overdosed on drugs.”
My head dropped. I’d been afraid of that. I knew when I stood in the bedroom with him that’d he gone too far. He was too into it. He hadn’t been okay.
“You don’t seem very surprised.” I shook my head. “Were you aware that Kevin had a drug problem?”
I nodded and continued to stare down at the desk. I
wasn’t sure what I should or shouldn’t say. I was lost. I had no one to call. No one to talk to.
“How long has he had this problem?”
“Years,” I answered, not even totally sure myself. “We had— our childhood wasn’t good.”
“Are you on drugs as well?” she asked, concerned about my last statement.
“No,” I answered. “I was at one point, but its been a long time. I don’t want them.”
“Good,” she responded, making some kind of note in the folder. “Has Kevin overdosed before?”
I tried to think back to the many times he’d ended up in rehab. I couldn’t recall any of them being an overdose except one. The time I was with Jamie. He’d left the ER that night and went straight into a program. I’d quit after that. We’d fallen out. Later, I’d tried to reconcile. It’d destroyed my life.
“Once,” I answered. “Not bad though.”
“I see,” she jotted something else down. “Is Crystal Meth the only drug that he does?”
“As far as I know yes.”
“So you don’t really know for sure?”
“No.”
She jotted something else down and then sat back for a moment, thinking of what to say. I sat there, being asked a bunch of questions and wondering if my brother was okay. I wanted to scream, but I bit my tongue and waited.
“Your brother has had a stroke and a mild heart attack.”
She said the words so calmly— without any emotion whatsoever. That pissed me off. He wasn’t just a name in the emergency room. He was important. At least to me.
“He needs surgery,” she continued, still emotionless, “but right now there are too many risks. His blood pressure is extremely elevated from the methamphetamine. He is currently in a comatose state. Doctors and nurses are actively administering fluids and medications.”
“Is his stomach being pumped?” the words were swirling inside my head. This wasn’t the way things happened the one other time. He’d overdosed and had his stomach pumped and ended up in rehab. Scary, but simple. This was more information than I could handle. “Heart attack?” suddenly what she’d said was hitting me. “Is he— will he—”
“Due to the coma we can’t pump the charcoal in the way it would normally be done. We are administering small doses in an effort to absorb any remnants of the drug. Right now, it’s really a waiting game Mr Phillips. He’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s stable. We won’t know the effects of the stroke or the heart attack until he is awake.”
“I see.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Can I see him?”
“I will take you back in a moment. But before we do that, I really need to get some basic information and have some papers filled out. You were listed as his emergency contact and next of kin. That is why you were called in.”
“Okay.”
I spent the next half an hour of my life filling in vital information about my brother. Things I’d always known just because we were all the other had. There were a few things asked that I would have to get before I could answer. Things like whether he had a living will and what his insurance information was. Kevin had a good job with full benefits. I had no clue what any of that information was, but I had access to the safe he kept in his apartment that held it.
When I finally finished, Dr. Jenison stood to take me back to the room that held my brother. Along the way she told me that I’d be surprised at his appearance. He didn’t look good. I just nodded and tried to force out the thoughts of me storming out of his apartment. For the first time in a while my mind wasn’t on Avery. It was solely on my brother and the failure I’d been when it came to helping him. He’d always helped me and when he needed me the most I’d failed him.
Her warnings didn’t prepare me for what I’d see. I hadn’t noticed how thin he was, but laying on the emergency room bed he looked like one of those starving kids on TV. His skin was pale — damn near invisible— and he had lesions across his body.
“What are those?” I asked.
“The ones across his midsection are likely caused from scratching. I’m not sure what might have caused the itch. As much of the drug as he had in his body— it’s likely that he imagined things. Paranoia and psychosis is common with excessive use.” I felt my hands shaking as I looked at his arms. “Those are needle marks.”
“He was shooting?”
“Yes, it appears so. Judging from the healing on some of them, he’d been injecting for quite some time.”
“I didn’t— I never knew that.”
“That’s one thing addicts generally don’t share. Even if they don’t understand it, they are aware of the stigma of drug use and especially using needles.”
“He said he’d never do that.”
“Addiction is a strong thing Mr Phillips,” she told me, as if I hadn’t known that. “Most lose control of themselves and their choices.”
I stood looking at my brother and wishing I could rewind the night. He’d disappointed me. He’d made me angry. He’d hurt me. That’s why he was there. He was trying to take away the bad feelings. I’d never hear him say that. But I knew him and so I knew.
“Mr Phillips,” she put a hand on my shoulder. “Your brother will be moved to a private room once he is stable enough.”
“That’s good,” I nodded, knowing my responses were robotic.
“We don’t know how things will be when he’s awake. But we do know he’s going to need help. You should be as strong as possible by that time.”
“Of course,” I answered automatically. “I’m always there to help him.”
“I understand,” she nearly whispered. “But maybe you should find some help of your own.”
I turned suddenly and faced her. What the hell was she trying to say?
“I’m not an addict!” I yelled— immediately regretting it.
“I know that Mr Phillips,” she softened her voice and smiled at me, making me feel all the more guilty. “But having someone close addicted— going through this process— it takes a toll. Even the strongest people are affected when a loved one is on drugs. I was referring more to the fact that you need a support system of your own.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, turning to leave. “I’ll be back to check tomorrow. Will I receive a call if anything changes?”
“Absolutely,” she answered, her face showing surprise that I wasn’t staying.
“Thanks,” I offered and walked out the door.
I knew I was horrible. My brother was lying there in a coma and I was leaving. I had to. I couldn’t face it. Seeing him like that drove it home. He could die. He might die. Even if he didn’t die, he might wake up completely different. My brother may never be the same. And it was my fault. It was more than I could handle and that night I needed to get the hell out of that emergency room and fast.
I wanted to go to Avery but I couldn’t explain. I didn’t want her to know this. I didn’t want her to live this. So I went home, text her and told her I loved her, and drank until I passed out— my only thought being why couldn’t it be me lying in that bed. Why couldn’t I be the one facing death? God knows I didn’t much like life anymore.
Chapter 23
“Can’t say I’ll miss the room,” Colby laughed as we finished packing our things.
“I can’t say I’ll miss anything.”
I couldn’t contain my despair anymore. Not even to make her okay. I’d woke up hopeful and checked my phone. Nothing. She knew we were leaving that day and she hadn’t even said goodbye. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to think about her. I certainly didn’t want to think about the tubby dude she was cohabitating with.
“At least we had a day of good memories,” she offered, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Yea,” I replied. “We did.”
My bag was packed and I was ready, but I found myself sitting on the bed instead. My body didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to accept that she wasn’t coming with us. What I really want to do was get in
that rental car, drive to Mr. Money’s house and drag her ass out. If I had to kick his ass to do it— well that was a bonus.
But I couldn’t. I knew that’d only make the situation worse. Avery had been given a choice and it appeared that she was making it. I couldn’t try and change her mind.
“We have to accept it Spencer,” Colby muttered as she zipped her bag and sat down beside me. “She wants this.”
“Why?” I asked the question that had plagued me. Why would she choose a home so far away? What made her want him over me?
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “We hurt her.”
