Alive (9 page)

“It’s OK, you can come inside. Do you have another relative you can call to come down here with you?”

“No sir, she’s all I have.” And with that I suck it up and walk inside the room.

She looks so fragile lying there in that big hospital bed. She’s hooked up to so many wires and machines, and my eyes glass over just looking at her broken body. Oh mom, why do you keep doing this to yourself? I tentatively walk over to her bed and take a seat in the chair that sits beside the bed. She still has blood in her hair, and her face is even more swollen now that it was when I saw her a few hours ago. Her arms are so bruised and her skin looks translucent. I carefully reach out and grab her hand and take it in my own. Her skin feels cold, so I place her arm carefully back on the bed and tuck the covers all around her. I focus on the slow rise and fall of her chest and I just sit there and stare at her. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say, or how I’m supposed to feel.

I recall a conversation my mom and I had a few years ago. She tried one time, and one time only, to get clean. She went to a rehab program and lasted 11 days before she walked out and right back into her addiction. I asked her why she left, and why she didn’t care enough about me to get better and that there were people who counted on her to get better. She looked at me with a sorrowful look and said, “Abigail, I can’t quit. When I quit, I see your father being shot in his own bar by a group of angry bikers. I hear him telling me to take care of you and to make sure you knew how much he loved you. I see him dying in my arms. I see my best friend overdosing on heroin and me being in the same room too high to try and stop her from taking that next hit. I see how much I have failed you as a mother. The devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns, Abigail, he comes dressed in everything you have ever wished for. And all I wish for is to forget.”

She has tears running down her face, but her eyes hold no emotion. It’s like she’s completely dead inside. She has lost all hope. I want to reach out to her and tell her that we can do this together. That we can face her problems head on, side by side. But I can tell just by looking at her that she’s too far gone already. I can’t save her, and the thought is like a knife into my soul.

I know she feels pain for losing her husband and then her best friend. I feel that same pain. But what she never did realize is that I lost my father and my mother all at the same time. I was going through double the struggle. She chose to go down the road to addiction, while I chose to keep my head above water, struggling to stay afloat. We could have leaned on each other during those hard times, and come out stronger for it in the end. But we aren’t the fucking Gilmore girls, no matter how badly I wished we were. It’s awful watching someone drown and not being able to convince them that all they need to do to save themselves is to stand up.

The doctor comes back in and tells me it’s time for me to leave. I tell the doctor thank you and go back to find Adam. I find him still in the waiting room. When he sees me walk in, he rushes towards me and pulls me into a welcome embrace. I inhale deeply and my body melts into his. It’s like his arms were meant to hold me.

“How is she?”

“She’s going to be OK, I think. She looks terrible though, I barely recognize her. I wonder how many fucked up things have to happen for her to realize we can’t keep living like this,” I whisper quietly. Suddenly I feel exhausted. Emotionally and physically. I just want to curl up and go to sleep.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed. I am taking you back to my house tonight. There is no way in hell I’m letting you sleep at your house. I don’t know if I’ll ever be OK with you staying there again. God, I keep thinking if something had happened to you that I don’t know what I would do,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Easy there Hulk, we don’t need him resurfacing again tonight, do we?” I jokingly say. “I will be fine staying at my house. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a little girl. But it just so happens that I’d love to stay at your house tonight. I don’t want to be alone, and I couldn’t think of a better person to spend tonight with.”

I am hesitant to leave my mother all alone inside the hospital, but I know there is nothing more I can do for her at this point. I don’t know if there is any hope for her at all. Realization hits me hard in the stomach as I stand there staring at the double doors that lead to her room. There is nothing more I can do for my mother. I can’t keep trying to save her when she doesn’t want to be saved. She said herself that she wants to forget and I can’t keep living like this. The only person who can save her now is herself. When, or if, my mother decides to get clean, I’ll be here for her. But until then I have to walk away. So that’s what I do. My heart is breaking into a million different pieces knowing that I am walking away and leaving her to fend for herself, but it’s what has to happen. I don’t know if my heart will ever be whole again, but I can find comfort in the fact that starting right now, I’m working on putting it back together. Piece by tiny broken piece.

“Abigail, are you OK?” Adam reaches down and lightly grabs my hand. I turn to look at him, and a small smile is playing on my lips.

“Yes, I think I am going to be OK.” A single tear falls down my cheek, and Adam uses his thumb to slowly wipe it away.

“Come on, let me take you home.” I give the double doors one last glance, and then I take Adam’s hand and we walk away.

I must have fallen asleep in the car on the way over to his house. I am woken by Adam carrying me inside and up a set of stairs.

“You do know that I am fully capable of walking, don’t you?” I mumble sleepily. But I make no move to get out of his arms. I’m just too tired, or unwilling to move.

“Yes, I am aware that you have two working legs. Two very fine legs might I add. But I enjoy how you feel in my arms, so just be quiet and let me carry you.” I won’t admit it out loud to him, but I enjoy the way his arms feel around me. I nuzzle my face further into the crook of his neck and inhale deeply.

We continue up another set of stairs, and I wonder to myself just how many sets of stairs this house has. We round the corner, and go down a long hallway. We reach his bedroom and he gently puts me down in his bed and tucks me in. I hear him rummaging around in his dresser and a moment later the bed dips down and he’s lying beside me. He reaches over and pulls me close to his body, and securely holds me in his arms. He leans over and kisses my temple, and gently brushes the hair out of my face.

“Sleep well, Peaches, goodnight,” he softly says.

“Goodnight, Adam.”

I relish in the fact that I am in bed with Adam. I thought I would be scared to ever let a guy touch me or to be this close to anyone. But all I feel right now it how
right
this feels, and how at peace I am. Despite all that’s going on in my life right now, all the heartache, pain, worry, it all goes away anytime I’m near Adam. He is a soothing balm to my soul. He makes life not so dark and twisty. He is my light in the dark.

Chapter 8

I wake up to the fresh smell of coffee and pancakes, which smell slightly burnt, drifting through the air. I roll over and bury my face in the pillow and inhale deeply. Even his bed smells just like him. I roll over on my back and stare at the ceiling. Despite all that went on last night, I feel extremely rested. It was possibly the best night of sleep I have had in a long time.  I roll over to get out of bed and spot a towel, a change of clothes, and a note on the night stand.

I hope you rested well. You are absolutely fucking adorable when you sleep, I feel like I could watch you sleep for hours. That makes me sound like a creeper, but I’ll gladly wear that title if it means I get to wake up with you in my bed every morning. Here is a towel and a clean change of clothes for when you decide to get up. Seriously, hurry and wake up, I miss you. I kind of feel like a pussy for saying that, but it’s the truth.

Adam

His letter makes me laugh, and I notice I’m wearing a face-splitting grin on my face. It’s been so long since I have truly felt anything other than sadness. I get out of bed and look around his room. His room is especially clean for a guy. There is no dirty laundry lying around the floor, his book shelf is in order, and it looks like his CD’s are alphabetized. Wow, OCD much? Part of me wants to go over to his music collection and mess everything up. Everyone needs a little disorder in their life. I want to check out what type of music Adam listens to. I’ve always been a firm believe that you can tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. I walk over to his CD’s and start to mix and match up his collection. I notice he has Guns N Roses on his shelf, one point for Adam. I pick up another CD, Lincoln Park, oh he was so close, point taken back. I never was a fan of their music. Pearl Jam, Joan Jett, Fall Out Boy, Raidohead, Coldplay, U2 and many other options were worthy to be placed on Adam’s shelf. He has a good mix of everything.

“See anything you like?” Adam is suddenly behind. “I see you messed everything up, I might just have to punish you for that,” he says with a dark look in his eyes.

A chill runs through my body at his words. I find myself thinking about what type of punishment he had in mind. My mind has been in the gutter since meeting Adam, I’m not sure what to think of this.

“Your room was too tidy; it needed to be ruffed up a bit. I was just going through your CD’s. I have always thought you can tell a lot about a person by their music.” I say while raising one eyebrow.

“And just what does my collection tell you about myself?”

“Someone who has eclectic taste in music, like you do, tends to be more open minded and understanding about things, and less judgmental.”

“And what if someone only has one particular taste in music?” He is genuinely curious.

“Well, I think people who tend to only like one type of music are more closed off, more closed minded. Set in their ways. They are never willing to open their eyes to different possibilities. I feel like people who can pick one favorite song or just one type of music, must really have their lives together.” I never understood how people can narrow their music selection down to just one song, or just one type of music. There are so many good songs and different bands in the world and I want to hear and experience them all.

He looks at me for a long time before speaking. “I love the way you think, Abigail McCarthy. I think my dad would have been very fond of you.”

He leans over and kisses my forehead. This is becoming my favorite type of kiss from him. It’s sweet and intimate. His comment almost brings me to tears. I would have loved the chance to get to know his dad. It momentarily makes me miss my dad and I have a feeling he would of liked Adam as well. Geez, since when did I become so emotional? I want to tell Adam about my dad. I want him to know that I understand what he went through. I’m scared of putting myself completely out there to Adam. I’m scared of getting my heart broken more than it already is. I don’t think my heart can take any more heartache.

“Why don’t you take a shower and get dressed, then meet me downstairs for breakfast. It’s almost ready. I genuinely suck at cooking, so it might not be edible, but I tried for you.” He gives me another quick kiss on my cheek then walks out of his room. I feel that soft kiss lingering on my cheek, and I reach up to touch my face.

My thoughts drift towards my mother. Her doctor said she will be in an induced coma for a few days, but I still want to know how she’s doing. I’m sure I have bothered Adam plenty with my screwed up life and all my problems yesterday. It’s shocking he’s still around. I usually scare people off after a few times of them talking to me. Adam seems to bring out a nicer part to myself that I didn’t even know existed. Maybe I’m not as dark and twisty as I thought I was. Who knew mean, angry, fucked-up Abigail could be nice? It’s a novel thought.

As I’m getting dressed, I hear my phone go off. I reach into my bag and notice I have 26 text messages and 17 missed calls. Oh shit, I bet they are all from Jessie. I completely forgot to call her. She probably went by my house this morning after I didn’t pick up and heard the news about my mom. I take in a deep breath and call her, knowing full well I’m about to get my ass chewed out. It rings once before she picks up.

“Christ Abigail, where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you all morning trying to get  hold of you and you never once picked up your damn phone! My overactive imagination has been running wild thinking all these terrible thoughts of what could of happened to you. We don’t know Adam very well, so I was thinking of awful things he could have been doing to you. I don’t do well with worry, it makes me sick. I kept thinking you could have been stuffed in his trunk and half way across the fucking country by now and I would have no clue. All because you WOULDN”T ANSWER YOUR PHONE! I drove to the bar to check on you and it’s taped off with police tape. Tiny was outside talking to some cops and he told me what happened to your mom. Jesus Abs, are you OK? What the hell happened?” She finally takes a deep breath and I hear her start to cry. I know how protective she is towards me, and how much I mean to her. When she gets attached to someone she double knots and anchors herself to you, and she is not letting go. I immediately feel guilty for causing her worry.

“Jessie, I’m so sorry. It’s been a crazy night, but that’s no excuse. I should have called you.”

“You’re damn right you should have called me. God, I’m so angry at you.” She stays quiet for a few seconds before adding, “I know you are so upset about your mom. She may be the shittiest mother alive, but you have this strange loyalty to her that I will never understand. What
happened
Abigail?”