"Well, Ms. Boyle, you are STD free..." Another nurse came into the room a couple hours later. "Here are your emergency contraceptives. You are free to go once your brother comes back."
They had finished the kit, disinfected the wounds on her stomach, and put her on morphine because her body was hurting and bruised everywhere, they soon discovered.
"Contraceptives?" Erin paused, as if checking to see if she had heard the redheaded nurse right.
"Yes, the day after pill." The nurse nodded, standing at the head of the bed with the med chart in her hands. Lizzie lifted her head from where it rested on the side of her mother's bed to look at the redhead.
"What for? I didn't have sex yesterday." Erin pointed out. Lizzie rolled her eyes. If she was on some sort on painkiller, it clearly had not worn off yet.
"Yes, but you were involved in sexual activities that could result in your pregnancy. You could still be pregnant. We don't magically stop the pregnancy, if there is one." The nurse seemed tired, moreso agitated with Erin. Erin was probably too high on morphine to have the ability to actually recall this conversation soon over.
"So you're saying I am pregnant?" Erin slurred.
"If you are, it wouldn't be picked up because it is too soon. If you do find out you're pregnant, you can consider your options... keeping it... adoption... abortion."
"Wait a minute! Who said anything about abortion? I wanna keep it; it's probably my baby's younger brother or sister. Same father and same mother. Conceived the same way. Ahahaha. I am hilarious." Her mother chuckled on drunkly, much to Lizzie wanting to rip her hair out. Her mother was in so much pain, and all of that pain was being masked away. She knew her mother was eventually going to lose it. There was nothing Lizzie could do about that. She also knew that her whole family was heavily religious, and that meant there were no chances of an abortion. If there was a child, her mother would have to keep it. Again.
Maybe this time it would be raised by its own mother. She was not that lucky.
The nurse began walking towards the door, immediately relieved when she saw Joe standing in the doorway. It did not go unnoticed that there were two other uniformed officers pacing the hallway. Perks of being related to the Police Commissioner. "She's free to go. Just be aware she is still a little bit out of it." The nurse hurried away, much to Joe's confusion.
"Is she okay?" He asked, motioning to the still chuckling Erin.
"She's a bit high, but I think the nurse wants her to get out of here. You know, take her somewhere where she is comfortable. Somewhere where she will lose whatever ounce of sanity she has left. Somewhere where people won't poke and prod her."
"Too bad Linda couldn't stay. She had other patients to attend to. Linda would be a lot better at this than I am. I am the dead brother that shows up to save his sister, but he can't even do that." He chuckled nervously. Lizzie had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. Everyone loved blaming themselves for what had happened, but it really always gave back to her. She was the daughter that shown up in the picture. She should have just stayed away. And lived with the fact that she was an orphan. She was an orphan who was adopted and always knew there was something more.
Lizzie took the time to think of an appropriate response. She had gotten lost in her thoughts again. "That's understandable. Linda is a medically trained professional. Should we help my mom get dressed? I think it would be better if we did it, as opposed to some nurse. And I don't think that the police officers burning their stares into her to make sure she doesn't disintegrate into thin air are helping." Lizzie motioned to her mother, still sitting in a hospital gown on the metal gurney.
"Maybe you should do it. She might not be comfortable around me." Joe whispered, sending a sad look towards his older sister.
"Baby bro! I love you! Come help me!" The tired but hyped lawyer exclaimed.
"Morphine." The two of them looked at each other. Lizzie slowly closed the blinds of the room, making eye contact with the officers. She was in charge.
The two of them slowly made their way over to her. Lizzie tried to ignore the pained look in her mother's eyes. She looked frail, and she certainly looked tired. Joe put an arm around her waist to steady her. It didn't do unnoticed when Erin flinched at the contact. Joe frowned, slowly backing away.
"Wait, Joe, I am sorry." Erin whispered. "I know I am a little bit broken. But please don't leave me." Joe felt his heart break into a million pieces. This was his older sister, the bad-ass lawyer. He never thought he would see her like this. She was such a tough nut. She would always be a tough nut.
"I am not leaving you. I just want you to be comfortable. I am going to wait outside." He slowly made his way out, stopping to stand with the officers, one of whom was Renzulli, the other being none other than Jackie Curatola. They themselves went to the Commissioner and said they would not let anyone else do the job. If one Reagan fell, then all of them fell. Renzulli had never done more than exchange pleasantries with Erin, and yet there he was.
"Mom, I will help you." Lizzie whispered, helping her mom put a Columbia sweatshirt on top of her bra. Erin felt her cheeks get red. Even though she was facing the wall, she could feel their eyes on her back.
On her bruises.
There were just so many of them.
Lizzie helped her mother put on a loose pair of sweatpants and helped her into the wheelchair, placing her purse on her lap. Joe, having seen them, was ready to push the wheelchair, but Lizzie shook her head. She was going to take care of her mother.
Once in the front lobby, Lizzie spotted her grandfather and Baker. Lizzie smiled at Baker, who stood protectively at the side of the Commissioner. The three officers stood behind them.
"Let's go home." Frank affirmed, leading them to the ER entrance where they had parked their SUV. Joe helped Erin into the car and Lizzie sat next to her. Joe sat on the other side of Lizzie, and Frank sat next to Baker in the front.
The drive was quiet. There was some sort of an awkward tension in the air. Lizzie kind of hoped her grandfather or Baker would say something to fill the silence, but nothing came.
To be or not to be, that is the question.
Her mother was going to get past this. She would make sure of it.
The house was full.
There were dozens of officers sitting at their dining table. All of them had some personal connection to the Commissioner and his family. There seemed to be a discussion about what the protocol for security was going to be. After all this time alone, it kind of scared Lizzie. She wouldn't be able to go to the bathroom without a badge on her ass. Wasn't that just a little overboard?
My uncles helped my mom in through the front door. Jamie was on her left, and Joe was on her right. Behind them was the ever so formal and actually badass Baker, whose sunglasses added to the effect. She seemed to be talking to my grandfather. I spotted Jackie helping my uncle Danny through the door with his crutches.
A part of me knew that all of these people were somehow connected. They were somehow a family. All of them were intertwined through their 'blue blood' that ran through their veins. They were all cops, or wives of cops, daughters of cops, nieces of cops...
And yet, I couldn't explain the pit that seemed to be forming in the bottom of my stomach. It seemed stupid, having been through all of these life threatening situations, and be alarmed by a little bit of claustrophobia. I was pursuing a career in acting! A few people should not have bothered me.
I didn't realize I was standing completely still next to the stairs until I realized that there were two critters hugging my legs. And by critters, I meant Jack and Sean.
"Lizzie! We've missed you!" Sean squeezed my leg, extra hard. I sat down on the stairs, letting them hug me. They were so happy. They didn't know.
They were innocent.
We were all innocent.
But their memories were happy, and that was what made the difference.
"Where did you go? Were you with everyone else? Everyone was gone!" Jack asked, a furrow in his brow. He certainly didn't believe whatever the adults had told him. What was I supposed to do? Tell him that his father and aunt and dead uncle were all involved in a weird mafia group thing? How did one explain that, I was not sure. I still wasn't sure what had gone on. All I knew is that people died, and my family was hurt in the crossfire.
"We were all just really busy. We missed you all so much." I covered, hoping that didn't bring up any more questions. I didn't think I could handle it.
"Okay. Want to play Monopoly with us?" Sean continued, completely oblivious.
"Go play with your uncle!" I motioned to Joe.
"That's not our uncle!" Sean argued back. "We only have one uncle, uncle Jamie."
"That's your Uncle Joe. He was away for a while, and now he is back. I am sure he would be very happy to get a hug from you." I smiled smally at the two of them. Sean seemed to accept this, but Jack still looked convinced otherwise.
"Uncle Joe died. Dead people can't come back. That's not Uncle Joe!" He screamed, running away.
I debated running after him, I did. But I knew he was running to one of the adults. They knew how to lie about these things. I didn't really. I didn't really want to. The truth was he lied to protect us. That seemed to be the trend these days.
Everyone was still around, so I just walked up the stairs to find some solitude. It worked, really. I wandered into my mother's old room. She could at least enjoy looking at the pictures of her family, none of which she was in. Her grandpa stood next to her grandma, who had her hands on Erin's shoulders, who was holding a baby Nicky. Her Uncle Danny had his arms wrapped around a man who she didn't recognize on one side, and Linda on the other. a very young Jamie sat in the middle, his smile wide. Lizzie couldn't help the tears that started coming down her cheek.
How could she learned to love a group of people so fast that she had a week ago? The way her Uncle Danny look at Aunt Linda and her kids and the way the Commissioner look at all of children... It was a sense of pride and love that Lizzie admired. She only wished they would look at her the same way. She was not in the pictures. Would she ever be?
She originally had thought no, but things had changed, a lot...
"I thought I'd find you up here. I used to come hide up here when I felt sad or mad when I was a kid. That was my room," her mother motioned to one of the rooms on the left. "Being the only girl had its perks. I didn't have to share a room. One time my parents tried to put Danny and I in the same room and we ended up moving a couple months later because we needed more rooms so we wouldn't have to share." She laughed nervously. "I know this has been hard on you. All of it has. I know I'm not the best person to come to, but please talk to me."
"I don't know what to say. This Reagan clan is really close knit. I used to kill for a family like this."
"What was your family like?" Erin asked, motioning to her room. We both walked in and I plopped down on her office chair, while Erin sat on her bed.
"They weren't bad... They just weren't very close knit. My parents would try to get out of going to family dinners because my dad always felt inferior to his brother because he was their mother's favorite. No matter what he did, he was always wrong. My uncle's kids thought they were higher ups as well. I was just never one of the favorites."
"Well, you're one of my favorites." Erin said, forming a smile. "And I know you're upset about not having a picture here, so I came prepared." Erin handed her the envelope that sat in her desk drawer as long as she had had that office, and in her bedside table drawer before that. Lizzie pulled over the flap and pulled out the stack of pictures. She felt the knot in her stomach form and tears lingering in her eyes.
"Your parents sent me pictures. I used to think it made the whole situation worse because it made me regret my decisions." Lizzie flipped through pictures of when she was a kid, through all of her show choir tournaments, until she found a picture of her mother holding a baby in a hospital bed.
"Is that Nicky?" Lizzie asked, not wanting to know the answer.
"No. It's you. My mother took it before she took you away from me. I loved you then, I love you now, and all of the time in between- you do realize that right?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"My favorite was always this one-" Erin took the envelope and fished around until she pulled one out and handed it to me.
Looking at it, I see she picked a picture that was taken when I was five. I can actually remember that day. It was my first dance recital and I was nervous that is would mess up because they gave me the solo. I ended up nailing the solo and the picture was the result, me smiling so widely my teeth might be fallen out.
"Can I keep this?" Lizzie motioned to the picture of her and her mother. Erin nodded. Lizzie picked up her mother's favorite picture and put it up next to the family photo.
"I'm sure Dad and Grandpa will go for getting new pictures done."
"But then he won't be in it." Lizzie said, motioning to Joe. "Will he?"
"He knew about you. He found out when he saw the pictures. He was mad I never told him about you."
"I'm sorry Erin."
One thing hadn't changed: I was still sorry. The thing that had changed: my uncle was back, after all. Everyone was back here in this house. The things I was sorry for at that time do not pale in comparison at the things I was sorry for now.
The family picture that lacked my uncle and I still sat untouched in its spot. Leaning against it, was the picture of me at my dance recital.
My mother never frequented this room anymore; it served as Nicky's room when she slept over. She could just imagine her mother walking through that door, closing it behind her before throwing herself on the better.
When she was tired.
When she was upset.
When she had given up hope.
Had she come back here the first time she was assaulted? Did she collapse on the bed and just lay there?
I threw myself on my mother's old bed, letting my body sink into it. The blanket that sat on top of the bed seemed homemade. It smelled like my mother. I lowered my body underneath it, wrapping myself up like a burrito. I lay like that for a while, letting my chest rise and fall.
I didn't know what to feel. I didn't know. The adrenaline that had been running nonstop seemed to have completely stopped. I felt tired. I felt weak. There were a million things running through my mind.
Some people drink, some people do drugs, and some people cut.
I am not one of those people.
So instead, I stare blankly at the white ceiling. I don't know how long I stare at it. At some point, I feel the silent tears coming down the side of my face. I think at some point I dozed off because the next thing I knew, people were clambering up the stairs. I threw the blanket over my face, hoping they would just leave me. I was not hungry, and not in the mood for socializing.
"Leezl! Leeezzzll! You are eighteen going on nineteen..."
Jackie?
"Okay, so I know you are hiding under those blankets, and maybe you're not feeling great. I know you probably assume everyone is worried sick about you, and it's true. They are all downstairs debating what to do with you. They don't think you're crazy. They think you're brave for the things you have done. They just want to make sure that you live through this. You will live through this. They just want to make it a little easier. I am not a Reagan. I am not one of your overbearing family members. I just want to know how you are doing. So..." the door closed quietly behind her. "How are you doing?"
Lizzie slowly removed the blanket that was covering her face. The room was relatively dark, so her eyes didn't pain at the adjustment. She made out the figure standing near the door. She seemed slightly tense.
She would be lying if she said she pictured herself bursting into tears right then and there. It hit her like a ton of bricks. The air was sucked out of her stomach, and the waterworks started.
"I don't-t-t-t know wha-at t-o d-o." She sobbed. "I killed a man. Two, actually. One of them was my fa-fa-." She couldn't make out the word. It pained her to think that, despite how she was conceived, she had killed half of her DNA origin. She had killed her own father. She didn't care if he was a mass murderer or a Natzi, he was still her father. Not to mention the other guy she had killed. She was no better than them.
"You did what you had to do. You need to look at me." Jackie maneuvered so that Lizzie's head was on her lap. She slowly tilted her head. "You need to stop with all the blame. All of this happened. It is in the past. It does not matter now whose fault it is. There's that thing you're supposed to say..."
"Grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. It is kind of my mom's catchphrase these days."
"Definitely a good one."
Hello! I was planning on writing the family dinner scene in this chapter, but it ended up being longer than I thought. Yes I realized I changed from third to first person but I left it figuring that that part should be told from Lizzie's pov.
Next chapter: family dinner!