It was so easy. Already woozy from the alcohol, all he had to was sit there. He could have done without the headache and nausea, like a preemptive hangover, once he had cried himself out. Then the effects slowly started to melt away. A small part of the back of his mind said this wasn't right, wasn't normal. Maybe he should go back inside the house. But here he was so…comfortable. So undisturbed. His heart fluttered like mad in his chest, yet the rest of his body seemed to react in slow motion. From here he couldn't feel the pain anymore, the heartache, hell, even the headache. Was that just a few minutes ago, or a lifetime? He didn't care anymore…
Everything kind of mashed together, blending in and out of nothingness. A muffled, faraway voice calling out. Splashes of color, maybe red? It was hard to tell. Cold sensations. Feeling as if a great weight pressed on his chest. His whole world shaking, if it was possible for darkness to do that. Occasional recognition of other presences around him, although he couldn't quite reach them, and he didn't want to. He just wanted to be done.
His first concrete sensation was of a long shape pressing onto his face. He blurrily recognized it as an oxygen mask, and recognized the people who crowded in almost immediately. What he didn't remember was what had led up to this point, at least at first. Everyone was distraught, even tearful. He had been found just in time. He quickly discovered that he didn't share their fear, or their relief that he had survived. But they weren't going to let him go. In fact, they watched him closely, concerned that he might try something again. They were determined to figure him out, solve this latest complication in their lives. All for his sake, of course, but he was the source of all the trouble, as usual. Sure, he would play along, give them what they wanted. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. And maybe it was worth it a little bit to keep going, he just wasn't going to hold his breath for it to last.
Pure elation. That's what he felt. Free flowing, life giving energy coursing through him. He couldn't care less about the stinging pain in his face; the bubbling happiness quickly washed that away. Keep moving, keep going, faster and faster with each new rush. Everything else dissolved away. A wet sensation came away on his hand between passes at one point, a smear of red in the swirling kaleidoscope. Nothing to worry about. He was just going to float away in this beautiful existence. The harsh sound that accompanied his laboring chest faded. At some point he lost track of which way was up, whether his limbs moved as he wanted them to or of their own accord, the difference between objects, between light and dark. He lost sense of anything at all…
TJ very groggily came to. At first his vision didn't seem to want to work properly. Then there was the fact that he recognized nothing around him—not the room, the sounds or smells, the time of day. Well, almost nothing. When he really concentrated, his eyes focused beyond a plastic partition to his left, on a sleeping woman with red hair and a blazer draped over her. The sight made him smile ever so slightly.
Now if he could just get his dry throat to work to work. "…Mom…"
Elaine Barrish startled a bit at the sudden sound, however faint. As soon as she realized TJ was looking back at her, she practically melted. "Oh, sweetie."
TJ started to pick up on more of his immediate surroundings, though none of it made sense. He wore a loose, scratchy blue gown. There was an IV attached to his left arm, a cuff and bracelet on his right. An oxygen tube stretched across his face, other wires ran here and there. How he ended up this way was a huge blank. "Where…where am I…?"
"Oh…you're at the hospital," his mother tried to say as gently as possible. TJ still didn't remember, but her tone and the look on her face were very familiar. He must have screwed up, big time.
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry…" Anxiety bubbled up, and with it a dull pain in his chest as he slowly connected what dots he could. How could things have gotten so out of hand? "I didn't mean for this to happen…I wasn't…I wasn't trying to hurt myself…" Not that any part of this situation backed up his claim. He still wasn't thinking clearly; whatever was in the IV muddled everything. Somehow he had to get her to believe him. To get himself to believe it.
His mom jumped up as he grew more agitated. "Don't worry about any of that. Shh, go back to sleep." She brushed his forehead with a cool hand. He hadn't noticed how warm he felt. Anyway, the meds were pulling him under again. Sweet, involuntary relaxation mixed with that comforting touch began to lull him away.
"It's all going to be okay," she crooned.
"'M sorry…"
The next time he was aware, sunlight beamed through the window, and his dad, former President Bud Hammond, sat on one side while TJ's twin brother Douglas kept watch on the opposite side. The latter hurriedly put down his phone when he noticed TJ stirring.
"Hey bro, how're you feeling? Mom said you opened your eyes for a bit last night." Douglas uncharacteristically clung to TJ's hand.
"You gotta believe me, I wasn't trying to go that far. I didn't…plan anything, and it wasn't like an impulse thing either. It was just such a rough day, and things were moving so fast…" croaked TJ. Douglas hushed him, though not angrily.
"We'll take it one step at a time, okay? The important thing is we caught it before it was too late."
TJ took a good look around the room for the first time. Not an ICU, or at least didn't look like one. He still had the IV and oxygen, but nothing more drastic. The little tubes reminded him how sore his nose was. "So how long was I…?"
"About 36 hours now, I reckon," their dad piped up. The man looked like he hadn't slept at all. "I decided at the last minute to hell with everything, I wanted to see your moment of triumph, and for once not appear like I was trying to be your age. When I saw Gunner downstairs without you—"
"Aw man, Gunner—what happened with him?"
"We made sure he got where he needed to be. Anyway, it gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. Sam and I found you up in the private lounge, already unconscious." Bud's voice cracked a bit.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean…" Tears of his own welled up in TJ's eyes before he could stop them. "You were right, the whole thing was a bad idea from the start! I never should've…why did I think I could…I always—"
Douglas grabbed TJ's arm firmly. "Hey! You don't need to beat yourself up about this, it was an accident! I lent you the money because I believed what you said, that you just needed the right chance. I thought maybe it really would help if you had something you could be proud of, something we could be proud for you."
"Yeah, and look how far I got—"
"You're an addict, TJ. Maybe sometimes we're too hard on you about it. We're so busy watching out for warning signs and triggers and avoiding anything that could enable you—though you have to admit that sometimes we've had a right to worry—that we don't even really see what kind of impact that has. We're not always right, and you weren't necessarily wrong to call us out on it."
The pain was beginning to surface in TJ's chest once more, between his current circumstances and not wanting to cry in front of his dad and brother. He was losing that battle, to boot. Both men were trying to get him to calm down. Behind their voices, he could hear the heart monitor reaching an insistent pitch. It was too much going on. He didn't know if anxiety was making it feel harder to breathe, or if he was actually beginning to have trouble.
"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" was all he could repeat.
A knock on the door preceded the arrival of a doctor, a woman at most only a few years older than TJ and Douglas, tailored white coat covering her scrubs. "Good morning, I see things have gotten much livelier in here. I had the nurse set to page me as soon as you were awake, just so we could check in with you. Thomas, is that right?"
"TJ's fine," replied TJ, trying to pull himself together.
"TJ it is, then. I'm Dr. Walsh. We reduced the sedative you were given last night so you could start waking up without trouble, but it looks like things might be overwhelming you a bit. Try to take some slow, deep breaths for me, okay? Would you like me to give you something?"
"I-I don't know if I can…it's been a lot to process…"
"We can just do a minimal dose, not enough to send you right back to sleep, just to help you relax. Do you remember what happened?"
What little composure TJ had was quickly crumbling. Everything seemed to be spinning out of control. Plus he didn't like the idea of exchanging one drug for another, even if it would help.
"We were talking about it, yes," Bud said quietly. "We're sorry if that got him worked up."
"His system is still trying to rid itself of the cocaine. Given how he came in, I'd rather not stress his heart or circulation too quickly," explained Dr. Walsh. She stuck her head outside, speaking low to someone close by, and then turned back to them. "We'll grab a quick blood draw to retest and see where things are before giving him the sedative. As long as we take it slow, however, and don't see any complications, he should be okay to go home I'd say tomorrow morning."
"Thank you," nodded Bud.
Douglas leaned close to TJ. "Mom's got her guest room ready for you once you're discharged. We'll figure everything out from there. Just take it easy for now, okay?"
Shakily, TJ tried to nod that he understood. A nurse slipped in with a tray of supplies just in time for Dr. Walsh to finish washing and gloving her hands. TJ flinched as the fresh needle went into his right elbow. She took one vial and a few little sticks, which the nurse carried away while Dr. Walsh taped gauze to the puncture and moved on to a small syringe. This was scanned, followed by a scan of his ID bracelet barcode.
"This should help you feel much better."
The knots in TJ's muscles magically unwound as soon as she pushed the plunger into his IV. His breathing steadied. The heart monitor worked its way back down. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
"Anything else we can do for you at the moment?"
"Is it possible to get him something plain to eat?" asked Bud. "He hasn't had anything substantial since the day before last. His mother wanted to make sure that was rectified when he woke up."
"Of course, I'll have the nurse's station call down for something." Dr. Walsh gave them all a polite nod, and exited.
Douglas settled down into his chair again. "How's that working for you?"
"If you mean do I feel high all over again, I don't think it's quite the same. At least I don't feel like my chest is about to snap like a rubber band," TJ shot back wryly.
"That wasn't what I meant, for the record, but I'll take the humor as a positive sign," chuckled Douglas.
The room lapsed into silence, aside from the monitor. TJ couldn't remember the last time he simply felt content. Part of it was the meds talking, no doubt, and yet he didn't mind just taking in the moment. Douglas pulling his phone out, their dad chiding him for being unable to take a 30 minute break from work. Even their mom, as unavoidably demanding as her job often was, taking time before to sit vigil in order to be there for him. He dimly recalled that encounter now.
"I guess I haven't really said thank you," he finally voiced out loud. Both his dad and brother stopped what they were doing to look at him. TJ cleared his throat roughly. "I mean, none of us have been perfect in this family, certainly not me. No family is. But you guys have all stuck around. I'm really grateful for that."
"Anne and Nana have been getting things ready for you at Mom's, too," Douglas added.
"That's what family's for, son," replied Bud, passing him one of those plastic hospital cups full of water, which TJ gladly took.
"And I really am sorry that things blew up like this. I want…I want to make it right. I don't want to give up on beating this thing."
"Then we'll be there for you," said Douglas. "After all, I want you to be able to pay me back, right? When you're ready, of course."
TJ cracked a smile and nodded. Their dad's face was more sober.
"It's going to be hard, we all realize that. We're all going to have to keep working on believing we can get to the other side of this someday, hopefully soon."
Another knock on the door grabbed their attention. The nurse returned with a tray in hand. "They were switching over to lunch, but had enough batter left to make a few small pancakes. Just something to get started with. There are also peaches and a Gatorade. The sooner we start getting your system back into balance, the better you'll feel when you leave. Let yourself take the time you need, though. And let me know if you need anything else."
"Thank you," they chorused. Douglas swung the rolling table over so TJ could reach.
