Hate Me Today (Save Me #3)

Vanessa

“I just want to go outside alone. Is that really too much to ask?”

I fall back against the raised head of the hospital bed, crossing my arms over my chest. Yes, I know I’m acting like a petulant child and no, I really don’t care. Right before I turned seventeen I had to grow up way too fast when I found out I was sick. Now, almost a year later, I’m sitting here waiting to be pumped full of someone else’s bone marrow.

This is supposed to be my senior year in high school, not the beginning of feeling like a senior citizen. I’m achy, tired and maybe a little pissed off at the world. I shaved my head last night as a preemptive strike, knowing it was just going to fall out when we start this treatment anyway. On top of that, I’ve lost so much weight that my face is all sunken in.

My mother stares blankly at me from across the room while the nurse unhooks my IV. “I just don’t understand why you feel the need to go out alone. I’d feel much more comfortable if I was with you.”

Without thinking, my snappy attitude comes out and I shrug, “I’d feel more comfortable if you weren’t shoved so far up my ass that it’s like we’re one person. But hey, that’s just me.”

The nurse turns so my mother can’t see her face and bites her lip to keep from laughing when my mother gasps.

“Your language is opprobrious young lady. I’m only here to help you.”

I sigh and go to run my hands through my hair only to remember that it’s not there anymore. My hands fall limply by my legs on the bed. I know she’s only trying to help, only trying to be there for me but
she’s driving me insane.

“Sorry. I know you’re just trying to help but I need you to realize that this is a lot on me. Once I start this I won’t be able to do anything unless I’m covered. I just want to go relax outside alone before I have to wear a mask and gloves everywhere.”

“What if you fall? You can barely pull yourself out of bed right now, do you really think you would be able to push yourself off the ground?”

I close my eyes and roll them behind my lids so she doesn’t see. “I’ll use a wheelchair and I promise I won’t get out of it. I’ll bring my cell phone in case I need you.”

By the way she’s looking at me I know she’s hesitant but after a few minutes of her staring me down, she caves.  I pull my sweatshirt over my head, making sure none of my lines get caught as I do. I really can’t wait to get rid of these damn things.

I lower myself into the chair and roll down the hall and outside alone. It’s amazing. I never thought I would miss just a few seconds alone as much as I do since I’ve been cooped up here and it’s only going to get worse.

As soon as I’m on the grass I slip my feet out of my shoes and run my toes through it. I roll my head back as the sun warms my body. I try to stop thinking, humming some random song but it doesn’t work. My mind races like a bullet, going over what I overheard my parents talking about the other night when they thought I was asleep.

She thinks I’m not aware that I could die, that even though I put all this effort into taking care of myself that it might not be enough. Do I want to make it through this? Yeah, I do, but not if I’m going to have to live forever feeling like this. There’s a chance I could get better by doing this transplant. There’s also a chance that my body could totally reject it and I’ll have to start over. That won’t be happening.

I’m almost asleep, loving the warmth of the sun on me and the feeling of the cool grass under my feet when someone starts grumbling a few feet from me. I open my eyes, about to ask them what their problem is but I stop myself as soon as I recognize who it is. The one and only Abby Irons sits less than ten feet from me doing the exact same thing as I am with my feet.

I had heard she was in a bad accident and was in the hospital but I never expected to see her. She looks sad as she stares out over the city. I know that look, I see it every time I look in the mirror. The "lonely in a room full of people" look.

“Hey,” I say, rolling over to her.

Abby turns her head toward me, trying to force a smile but fails. I want to tell her not to bother anyway, it won’t change anything.

“Hi.”

I reach my hand out and introduce myself. Her hand slips into mine carefully, like she’s afraid to break me. Sadly, I’m used to it.

“I’m Abby. Or at least that’s what they’re telling me.”

I smile, trying to lighten up the mood as I let her in on the fact that we met last year. Not that anyone knows but me. If my parents found out that I snuck out to with my ex-boyfriend
Zach to see a rock concert, they would have killed me.

Abby looks at me sadly, rubbing her hands against her thighs. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t remember you, it’s that I don’t remember anything.”

“Car accident, right?”

She stares at me skeptically before answering. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“It’s everywhere,” I shrug. “You really don’t remember anything?”

Abby shakes her head sadly, her deep red hair falling loose from the shoulder?. “Nope, I don’t remember who I am, what I did before the crash or who anyone visiting me is. It’s really starting to make me mad.”

“I get that. All the medication they have me on makes me forgetful sometimes.”

She looks me up and down before finally asking me what’s going on with me.

“Hypoplastic Myelodysplastic Syndrome.”

I laugh at the stumped look on her face and answer a few more questions she asks before she hits me with a hard one. “What gets you through all the shit you’re going through?”

Normally I wouldn’t have a problem telling people what I do to deal. This is Abby fucking Irons though. Some people turn to drugs, some to cutting, others get depressed. I turn to music. I sing; I listen to any music I can get my hands on and I love it. To tell her that though is a totally different ballgame. She’s a multi-platinum selling artist.

She finally gets me to tell her that music is the only thing that keeps me going and she asks for me to sing her something. I hesitate for a second before starting into her song Fight For Me.

What harm could it do? It’s not like it’s going to lead anywhere, she doesn’t even know who she is.

Jason

Two Years Later

“You have got to fucking be kidding me.”

I see the corners of Abby’s mouth perk up and for the first time probably ever, I want to walk away from the damn business.

“You knew you were going to do this the second I told you that I wanted to keep touring and asked you to find me a slot. You knew you were going to stick me with her!”

Abby shifts her daughter Sophia to her other hip and hands me a stack of papers.

“You said you wanted to play. You asked me to just slip you into an open slot so you didn’t have to sit in the office full time. This was the only open slot.”

“It’s Asher’s spot, Abby.”

“Asher’s a flake that’s being replaced.” She turns away from me, making a funny face at the kid. “Asher’s being replaced by you, or you can suit up every day and sit in the office instead of playing on the stage like you really want.”

“There’s nothing else?” I groan.

“Quit being a baby. I’m not sure what the problem is anyway and since you won’t tell me, this is what’s going to happen. You do your thing, Vanessa can do hers, no problem.”

Crack. She must be smoking crack if she thinks things are going to go as well as she’s saying. It’s not just that I have a problem with the girl, it’s that I hate her. She’s a user and that’s not going to fly with me. I’m starting over completely on a bus full of people I don’t know and a band full of people I’ve never played with, with a singer that has no clue what she’s in for.

There’s another motive here than just filling Asher’s spot. I can tell by the way she pushes that excuse on me and the gleam in her eye but can’t for the life of me figure it out.

She walks over to me, leans up on her toes and pulls me down to her and kisses me on the cheek. “You’ll be fine. Now get your ass ready to go on stage with that poor girl because Asher has flaked off tonight too.”

Abby walks out of the room, leaving me to fume over everything that’s happening until I’m being handed my bass and walking on stage. My pissed off mood doesn’t stop there though. Oh no, that bitch Vanessa, who thinks she’s so ready for this preforming shit freezes. She goes stone still on stage until Tuesday rushes out and saves her ass. She finally comes out of whatever terror she’s got going through her head and gets on with the show.

I walk off stage behind Vanessa the second we’re done
. I had hoped by now I would have calmed down from the argument with Abby, and the fact that she’s putting me on the road with a chick that can’t even handle playing covers, but I haven’t. If anything, being on stage with her has just pissed me off more.

“Good job freezing, Princess.” I yell over the sound of the crowd as I toss my bass to a roadie
. I know I’m going to need it back in a minute, but that doesn’t matter right now..

Vanessa immediately stops and glares at me. She reaches down, rips the shoe off her foot and throws it at me, hitting me in the center of my forehead.

“Fuck you, asshole!” she seethes.

I rush her, backing her against the wall. It takes every ounce of restraint I have in me not to shove the damn heel she just hit me with so far down her throat she could use it as a kickstand.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with my cock if it came with an instruction book!”

Before I know what’s happening, Tuesday is ripping me away from the bitch by the back of the shirt and Evan is handing her back her shoe.

“I’m pretty sure you were told to get your shit together earlier!” Tuesday screams. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you two but this is fucking bullshit! This is your fucking job. It’s not high school. We aren’t going to play this damn game.”

I shrug out of her grip and back up more so I don’t actually end up hitting anyone. I’ve never been one to hit a woman but this teeny bopper is pushing my limits.

“She fucking froze!” Vanessa’s eyes drop to the floor and she shrinks back into herself. I want to laugh at the weakness she’s showing. Tuesday’s hand connects with the back of my head and she starts yelling at me for the second time tonight.

“It’s her first fucking show! It was taken care of now wasn’t it! She fucking rocked the rest of her set so get your goddamn panties out of a twist and get the hell over it! And you,” she turns to Vanessa, “don’t throw shit. We aren’t five year olds having a hissy fit.”

Without thinking I open my mouth again, saying something about Vanessa being close to a five year old. Truth is I have no clue how old she is but she’s old enough to know that using people isn’t the way to get where she wants to go. My head snaps forward, this time from Evan slapping me and I turn to glare at him.

Cocky motherfucker. It’s a good thing I’m afraid he would snap me like a twig or I would say something about where he can stuff that damn hand.

Tuesday goes on to tell us to get our shit together because we’re going to be working together and it will be hell if we’re acting like this to each other the whole time. I just nod before heading back on stage to play with Abby and the guys, biting my tongue out of respect for Tuesday. I don’t care how Vanessa feels about me, I hate the bitch with a passion and if I have to tour with her, I’m going to make her life hell while we’re doing it and at least get some entertainment out of it.