Fluorescence: The Complete Tetralogy

by P. Anastasia

  “We came as fast as we could,” she said, wide-eyed. “Is she okay? Is your mom—”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “They aren’t telling me shit.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Brian.”

  Alice’s mom came in shortly after and headed straight over to question the receptionist. She came over toward us a few moments later.

  “They won’t tell me anything either, Brian. I’m sorry,” Jane said, taking a seat in a chair across from me.

  Alice leaned over the armrest and wrapped her arms around me. I rested my head on her shoulder and my throat started to hurt, twisting up, making it difficult to swallow.

  “I’m here for you,” Alice said in a soft, calming voice. “I know you’re upset and that’s okay. Let it out if you need to. There’s no one else here. No one’s gonna judge you.”

  I didn’t want to, but my eyes were already swelling with tears.

  “I just want us to be normal, Alice,” I said, my words muffled by her shirt. “I just want to have a normal life with you.” She tightened her arms around me and brushed her fingers through my hair, resting her cheek against the back of my head.

  “I know, Brian. I know.” She kissed my head.

  I sucked in a congested breath and coughed. Jane stretched out an arm toward me, offering a stack of tissues she’d just pulled from a nearby box. I took one and plastered it onto my quivering face.

  I didn’t want to look weak in front of Alice. I sure as hell didn’t want to cry.

  But… everything hit me and I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

  It had scared the hell out of me to find my mother like that. Lying on the floor like she was…

  Was it my fault because I’d left?

  What if she had died before I’d found her? What then?

  What now?

  “Brian?” A man in a long white coat came into the waiting room. S. Alexis, MD, his ID badge read.

  “Yes?” I wiped my face on my sleeve and scrambled to get up from my chair. “How… how is she?”

  Alice stood and clutched my hand.

  “We’ve stabilized her for now and are performing a gastric lavage—pumping out the contents of her stomach—to clear out the medication. When that’s complete, we’ll administer flumazenil, an antagonist to the sedative effects of the alprazolam. We’ll also give her some fluids and observe her.”

  “So… is she going to be okay?”

  “She should be, yes. You got her here before too much of the medication was absorbed into her bloodstream. Any longer and…” He stopped mid-sentence and his lips thinned. “Well… let’s just be thankful you got her here when you did. You’re a responsible young man.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” I said, reaching out my hand to shake his. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

  “She’ll need to stay here for a few days. We’ll review her medical history and contact her primary care physician in the morning. Considering the nature of the overdose, your mother may need further psychiatric review or treatment for her condition.”

  Exactly what I was afraid of hearing.

  I’d known for a while now she needed help but just didn’t know who to go to or when. Sometimes her mistakes just didn’t feel like my responsibility.

  The doctor left and I stumbled back down into my chair and hunched over. Alice put her hand on my arm and leaned down to look me in the eye.

  “Hey.” She smiled. “Things will be okay. I’ll stay here with you as long as I can. Okay?”

  “Yeah.” I tried to smile but couldn’t get my face to comply. I was mentally exhausted. “Thanks.”

  “Here.” Jane came over and set a foam cup on the glass table beside me. Steam wafted from it. “I know it’s not the good stuff we have at home, but even hospital tea is better than nothing.” She set a few sugar packets and a coffee stirrer beside it.

  “Thanks.” I picked up the cup and held it in my hands.

  “It’s very hot, Brian. Be careful,” Jane added, sitting down across from us again.

  It was hot. Uncomfortable to hold, even.

  Frankly, I didn’t care.

  Chapter 7

  “Brian? Brian? Wake up.”

  Someone nudged me in the arm. I dragged my eyelids opened.

  “Alice? You’re still here?” I sat up in my chair and yawned, my whole body drained and aching. “What time is it?” My eyes began to water. I wiped my palms across my cheeks and then stretched my arms up above my head. Jane was sitting across from us.

  “It’s about 8:45,” she replied.

  “Oh? Wait! You’re going to miss class. Alice, you don’t have to do that because of me.”

  She smiled and shrugged, sweeping some hair away from my eyes with a flick of her fingers. “My mom said it’s okay. Besides, I think this is more important than math class. Don’t stress out.”

  “Thanks.”

  What had I done so right to deserve Alice?

  “The nurse said you could go see your mom now if you’d like,” Jane said. She was nibbling on a breakfast sandwich of some kind and had a paper cup of coffee-shop coffee wedged between her legs. “I brought you something, too.” She grinned, handing me a paper bag from a local fast-food place.

  “Thanks, Jane.” I set it on the seat beside me and got up. “I’m going to go check on my mom first, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure.”

  I spoke with the receptionist first, who called the nurse over to take me to my mother’s room. The nurse told me they were going to move Mom to a different wing of the hospital shortly since she no longer required intensive care.

  The nurse, Patty, held open the door to Mom’s room and I entered cautiously. The distinct smell of disinfectant made my nose wrinkle as I walked in. I was all too familiar with hospitals; I had come to stay frequently before the fluorescence had healed me. Electrical wires dangled from different kinds of equipment. Ugly off-white walls surrounded me.

  Mom was hooked up to a heart rate monitor and had an IV drip taped to her wrist. Some of the color had come back to her face but she still looked like shit. Sallow skin. Dark circles under her eyes. She looked up at me and shook her head, squinting.

  Was I supposed to feel pity for her?

  I didn’t.

  “Why’d you do it?” I asked, stepping closer to her bed. “Why’d you do it, Mom? What the hell is so wrong with your life that you have to keep doing this to yourself? To me? I don’t deserve it.”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” she replied, looking away.

  “Bullshit. I understand you don’t give a damn about your life or mine anymore. I told you to get help, Mom. I tried to stop you, but apparently things got so bad you couldn’t help yourself, could you? I leave for a few days and you go to hell. Why? Tell me why, Mom.” I set a hand on the metal railing beside her and watched the pulse monitor bounce up and down a few times before returning my attention to her.

  She wrinkled her lips to the side. “You’re a kid, Brian. What the hell do you know about anything?”

  Her attitude sickened me.

  “Enough to know life is valuable and worth living,” I replied. “Something you still haven’t learned, apparently. No thanks to you, I now understand what it feels like to love and be loved by someone. There are so many people out there who fight every day just to stay alive—just to get by. And here you are with everything you need and you throw it away to some damn pills because life’s getting too hard. Because you’re too goddamn cowardly to suck it up and move on. You keep making up excuses about how life seems so hard, instead of trying to make it better. Dad died and he’s not coming back. Killing yourself isn’t going to change that. Treating me like crap won’t either. I don’t deserve this. Not after everything I’ve done to keep your head above water.”

  My lip quivered. I clenched my teeth, tightening my grip on the cold bed railing. “You keep treating me the way you have and I might not be th
ere at all next time. Think about that.” I turned my back on her and headed for the door.

  “Brian, wait. Brian!”

  I ignored her and walked back to the lobby.

  “Well?” Alice asked, standing up from her seat and staring anxiously at me, her hands entwined. “How is she?”

  “She’s well enough to act like a smartass, so apparently she’s fine.”

  “Oh.” Alice sat down and frowned. “I’m sorry.” Her voice lowered.

  “Don’t be. She’s never going to change.” I flopped back onto my seat and reached over to take the bag from the table beside me. “Thanks again, Jane,” I said with a grateful smile. Alice handed me her to-go cup and I took a sip of the five dollar, so-much-better-than-hospital-tea tea.

  There were more people in the ER now than there had been last night when I’d arrived, but I didn’t care. I had the only people I needed with me and didn’t feel lonely anymore. Alice and I sat there talking for a little while until a police officer and a woman sauntered in and caught our attention. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on their conversation with the receptionist. I heard my name and my mom’s being thrown around and I perked up in my seat, wishing I had superhuman hearing.

  The receptionist pointed at me and then the two came strolling over to where I sat. I shifted in my chair. Alice sat up.

  “Brian?” The tall, dark-skinned woman asked. She had her hair pulled back into a tight bun and wore a grey pant suit and bright red lipstick. The officer stood behind her and crossed his arms, glaring at me like he was expecting me to do something stupid. Or like maybe he was hoping I would?

  “Yes?” I got out of my seat.

  “Let me introduce myself.” She took an ID card out of her pocket and showed it to me. Government-issued of some kind. “My name is Angelica Barnes. I’m with the Department of Social Services. We’re here because your mother is scheduled for a mental health evaluation later this week and, in the meantime, we need to place you somewhere you will be safe.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I sneered. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

  “Well, you may believe that, but according to the law, you are a minor, and as long as your mother is in the custody of the hospital for psychiatric care, you are without a legal guardian.”

  “We can take him in.” Jane came to my side.

  “And you are?” Angelica looked down her nose at Alice’s mother.

  “I’m Jane… um… Alice’s mother. She’s… well, we’re friends of the family,” she stammered.

  “Do you have a letter or note from the child’s mother stating your responsibility for guardianship in her absence?”

  “No, but…”

  “Well then, I’m sorry, Ma’am, but you’ll have to file a petition with the court for custody.”

  “How long will that take?” I asked, my pulse racing.

  “A few weeks or more usually. It depends on how quickly the paperwork is turned in and how soon we can have someone come and evaluate the petitioner’s living arrangements for suitability.”

  “Weeks? But…” My voice broke. “How will I go to work and school and—”

  “We’ll arrange for that,” Angelica interrupted. “You’ll be able to continue working and attending school, but we’ll have to place you in an emergency foster home until either your mother’s health improves or,” she looked at Jane, “your petition is approved by a judge.”

  “Alice?” I looked desperately to her. It was a gut reaction; I knew she couldn’t help me.

  “You’ll have to come with us, Brian,” Angelica said.

  “I… No.”

  “Please. Don’t make this difficult for us.”

  The officer stepped up and firmly took me by the arm. I gasped.

  Shit.

  “Jane?” She shook her head and frowned. “Alice?” I looked at her and she shrugged, fear and uncertainty glistening in her eyes.

  Is this really happening?

  “Come on, son.” The police officer tugged on the sleeve of my jacket.

  “Brian!” Alice went for my hand. I held back just long enough for her to wrap her fingers around mine and reach up and kiss me goodbye. “Be safe! Please!”

  “He’ll be just fine, young lady,” Angelica said, and then rolled her eyes after she turned away from Alice. She’d done this before, apparently. Pulled kids away from their significant others. Just another lovesick teenager.

  What would the Saviors do now? What would Alice do?

  Sitting in the back of the police car during the drive, all I kept thinking about was losing my job. Losing the one chance I had at freedom. Yeah, I could get another job, but I liked the one I had. I made decent money. I’d made enough to almost pay off my bike completely. That job was my first step toward being a responsible adult.

  The officer drove me downtown to the social services building where he let me out and clutched me by my sleeve like he thought I was going to make a dash for it. Couldn’t blame him, as I’d thought about it already. But resisting the authorities is never a good idea. Especially when your future is in their hands.

  I was invited into a small office where Angelica and another woman were seated behind a long desk.

  “We pulled your mother’s medical history. She’s got quite a background, Brian,” Angelica said, shuffling through a manila folder with a bunch of papers inside.

  I sat down in a chair, crossed my arms and looked away. “And?”

  “We’re concerned about your home environment,” the other woman chimed in. Her name was Barbara, if the business cards on the desk were, in fact, hers.

  “Look, I’m fine, okay? What do you want from me? I’ve never had any trouble with her. I don’t get into fights at school or anything. Not anymore. I just want to go home. I can take care of myself.”

  “The law does not classify you as an adult until you are eighteen,” Angelica said. “You know this, Brian.”

  “Yeah, whatever. So what does all this mean for me?”

  “According to your mother’s medical history, she’s been on and off antidepressants for several years now. Any previous suicide attempts?”

  Yes.

  I swallowed hard.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t have to lie to us, Brian.” Barbara leaned over the desk and stared at me with concern. I felt like they were playing good social worker, bad social worker with me.

  “Yes. I’m sure. She’s had some problems, but this hasn’t happened before.”

  I wasn’t lying, technically. She hadn’t gone this far before, since before this I’d always stopped her.

  “So, no previous suicide attempts then?”

  “No.” I fixated on a plaque in the back of the room. An award certificate of some kind.

  Angelica scribbled something down.

  “Any abuse in the home? Verbal or physical?”

  I furrowed my brow. “Seriously? Do I look like I’ve been abused?”

  “Most people who are in abusive relationships don’t look the part, Brian,” Barbara added.

  I was already tired of talking to them.

  “I’m fine. My mom has her job. I have mine. We live in the same house, but we don’t get in each other’s way. There’s no law against just keeping to yourself. I’m not starving. I’m not homeless. I’m fine. Okay? Can I go?”

  I wanted the nightmare to end.

  “I’m sorry, Brian. No.” Barbara stood up and handed me a stack of papers. “Here’s some information on the process you’re going to go through. You’re going to be placed into an emergency foster home for now until either someone steps up to claim guardianship or—”

  “Jesus! You’re kidding me. A foster home? Seriously? I’m sixteen, for God’s sake, not five.” I clenched my teeth.

  “It’s the law, Brian. We’re just doing what we have to until we receive the full psychiatric evaluation back from your mother’s physician. We’ll ha
ve Officer Parston take you to your temporary foster home shortly. We’re just waiting for confirmation from the family.”

  A lump formed in my throat and I could hardly swallow.

  I felt like I was going to throw up.

  Chapter 8

  The temp family lived halfway across town.

  The Jamesons—Thomas and Sue—were an older couple with an adopted ten-year-old son from China they’d named Peter.

  They allowed me to pick up my motorcycle and keep it in their garage, even though the mother—Sue—had told me to my face how adamantly she was against boys my age having a license. My brain wasn’t mature enough to handle the dangers of driving, she said. But I had a job to keep and a girlfriend to see, so she’d have to deal.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your mother, Brian,” said Thomas, carrying a large, steaming cup of coffee over to the kitchen table and sitting in a chair across from me. With his thinning brown hair, peppered with grey, his wrinkled temples and the bifocals he used to read his newspaper, he had a friendly, grandfatherly air about him. His deep-set golden hazel eyes looked at me with genuine concern, something I wasn’t accustomed to at home.

  “I’ll be okay. I just, no offense, need to get back to my normal life.” I sipped from my mug of hot tea and kept my head down. Peter was sitting at the other end of the table on the edge of his seat, gawking at me like I was some kind of rock star. To him, having another “boy” in the house was a dream come true, and he hadn’t hesitated to tell me this within twenty minutes of our introduction.

  The Jameson’s home was larger than mine, roomy but cozy. Reminiscent of something from the older days. Beige stucco walls. Crown molding. Furniture upholstered with floral patterns. Old paintings and photos hanging in various places. The rustic smell of cinnamon and orange potpourri reminded me of Thanksgiving.

  Over a dinner of homemade lasagna and garlic bread, Sue told me the story of their daughter, Grace, who had died several years back while serving with the police task force. At only twenty-two, she had suffered a fatal shot to the chest during an armed robbery. She’d been trying to assist a hostage.