Okay, just one thing real quick that I've gotta tell you before I let you all go on your merry ways. Just a heads up this chapter is strictly here for "setting the stage purposes only" as my creative writing professor would say, so I'm just using it to lay down the next couple of chapters ahead. With that being said, read on and I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 38: Fight Off Your Demons
Tuesday, December 20th, 2011
HALEY
People always assume the opposite of me, but the truth is I haven't exactly led an easy life; in fact, on the contrary, I've lived far from it.
Most people have these visions, these false characterizations of me being a strong, sane, stable person; the peace keeper here, the arbitrator there, but the truth is, none of these people were ever observant enough to see through me for who I really was… the person busting at the seams, slowly cracking under the pressure, rapidly making me feel more and more like a crazy person with each passing day.
The fact of the matter is, what most people don't realize about me, is that as Sam gets sicker, I get sicker too; but of course, it's a different kind of sick… the kind of sick that people don't normally consider sick, the kind of sick that society judges you for succumbing to, the kind of sick that eats you up from the inside out… the kind of sick that that makes you feel just as crazy as you know you are.
I'd seen Sam sick before. I'd seen Sam tired and drained from her illness, I'd seen her throw her very guts up until she was barely able to sit up from the chemo running rampant inside of her body, and then, on Saturday, I saw something that I'd never seen before… I saw Sam pale, stumble, and then, finally, collapse underneath the pressure of her life catching up to her all at once in a manner that she just finally couldn't handle anymore.
And when I saw Sam was struggling to get a grasp on life, well then that made me lose all hope for the rest of us too.
I guess that's the briefest of summaries as to everything that was racing through my mind on the drive to Jamie's school in order to pick him up… 3 ½ deep, philosophical minutes to occupy my mind as I parked my car amongst the other fake, almost robotic mothers picking their kids up from school too…
I displayed my best happy expression prominently across my face, playing on my usual disguise of everything being fine as usual as I waved briefly to the same parents I saw every day, thanked Rosie, the crossing guard, who placed oncoming traffic to a dead halt to allow me to cross the street carefully even though part of me wished she'd just let the cars hit me, and finally, stood with my feet apart to balance my weight and my arms crossed firmly against my chest as I stood up on my tip-toes and scanned across the heads amongst the sea of little kids in search of my own.
"Hi Mamma," I heard my son's familiar voice call to me in greeting as his little arms instinctively wrapped themselves around my waist.
"Hey there Jimmy-Jam," I spoke without falter, keeping up with my façade of cool composure as I returned the hug… I guess maybe, if he was just a little bit older, he would have noticed that my arms didn't quite clasp around him as tightly as they normally would or that the enthusiasm in my voice just wasn't quite there… but not today; today I was safe; today I knew that my disguise would be okay for at least one more day.
"Mamma, Chuck wants to know if he can come over to play at our house today."
I let out an audible sigh of exhaustion at Jamie's request and pulled the boy a little bit tighter into my body so that he couldn't see the matching look of defeat prominent across my face. I wasn't in the mood… No, I didn't have the energy to deal with somebody in my house today… especially if that somebody was Chuck.
"Maybe another time Jamie," I told him, without including my secret thought that by another time, I meant that if he was lucky, maybe it could be sometime next year.
"But momma…" The boy whined and his voice instantly rang straight through my head, triggering an involuntary aggressive response that slipped from my mouth before I had time to control it.
"Jamie!" I snapped, watching as the boy stood to attention instantly, stiff with fear at the acknowledgment of me raising my voice to him. He stepped back away from me, maintaining a careful distance just in case I started to get violent, eyes wide, face blanch, and features slackened as he looked up at me waiting to be delivered his punishment, afraid that he was about to get in trouble just because he wanted to be a normal kid for once.
I sighed in recognition of my mistake, massaging my forehead gently with my fingers in an effort to will away the pounding currently slamming through my skull like a deep, aching metronome, relentless in counting out every beat that passed through.
"I'm sorry Jamie," I sighed, pulling him back towards me, holding him tightly so that I was almost afraid of hurting him. "It's just that… I told Aunt Brooke that we could go visit her and Sam today. I was thinking that maybe after you eat something and do a little bit of homework, we could head over to the hospital and see them."
"Yeah!" His face brightened again, all previous discrepancies between the two of us instantly forgotten. I wished that I could share his enthusiasm, really I did, but I couldn't… How could I when I was taking him to the hospital to expose him to the realities of Sam's sudden turn for the worse…
The thing was, when I used to look at Sam, it used to fill me with so much hope; hope that I used to fuel my sanity, hope that I used to push me forward, inspire me to keep going… The idea was, that if Sam could keep going, then there was no reason that I couldn't too.
I guess that I'd been so convinced that there was no plausible reason that Sam wouldn't get better that when something came around to remind me of the possibility that she wouldn't, I got scared. I was scared of what would happen to us, scared of what would happen to me, scared of what would happen to Brooke if Sam went...
And here's where all of that left me; stuck in this impossible cycle of depression; a cycle that I hadn't found myself stuck in for a very, very long time… a solid five years to be exact.
The last time it happened, I was a freshman in college.
When I was 18, my father died a week after my first semester of school started. I called him because I'd forgotten to buy notebooks. Imagine that, me, Haley James Scott; tutor girl, valedictorian, bonafide geek, getting so worked up about going to college that I forgot to buy freaking notebooks.
I was brand new to the school; I didn't know anybody, I didn't know where to go, what to do, who to ask; and then I called my dad and he told me not to panic, everything would be fine, he would go to the store, pick me up some notebooks, and overnight them straight to my dorm, they'd be there for me when I woke up for class in the morning.
He went to Target and had a massive heart attack right in the middle of the 5th aisle. There were three doctors within a two-aisle radius of him, but it didn't matter, he just dropped; dead before he'd even hit the ground.
I had to take an entire month off of school before I could actually drag myself out of my bed long enough to put together a functional thought. For a while, I'd considered not even going back… I mean, what the hell is the point of going back anyway, none of it mattered; who cares if you went to the best university, graduated top of your class and got a high paying job as a doctor or a lawyer or a CEO, it's not gonna last; in fact, it would barely begin before you had time to make any kind of lasting accomplishment because you were just gonna die soon anyway…
But I was lucky; I had my family; my mom, my brothers and sisters, and most importantly, I had Nathan and my son who acted as my crutches until finally, I could walk on my own two feet again.
After two weeks of my extended absence, they'd given away my dorm room with the idea in mind that I was never coming back after the blow I'd just been dealt with… But I had come back, and after a few days fighting with resident life, a junior girl who lived up the hall from me was finally nice enough to turn her single room into a forced double, just to do me a favor.
Her name was Darcie Golden. A pre-law student who took a line drive to the back of the head at one of her T-ball games when she was five years, blinding her permanently…
While I was busy hoarding myself into my room day in and day out; barely going to class, barely eating, barely even sleeping, just sort of… existing, she was busy struggling with all of the people telling her that she could never do anything that she wanted simply because she wasn't like everybody else.
She was the only one who ever managed to get anywhere with me, the only one who would actually care enough to sit me down, talk to me, and actually make me feel better at the same time; and then, suddenly one day, I just kind of… woke up; and the world just seemed a little bit better, the weight on my shoulders felt a little bit lighter.
And that was the day that I learned to see from somebody who couldn't… I guess now I just have to find somebody else who could do that for me again.
"Jamie come on, we've gotta go." I beckoned to my son, eager to get him home just so I could get him right back out the door just as fast. I was at the point where I would positively drag him, all the way to the hospital if I had to just so that I could physically make sure that Sam and Brooke were still fine, just so I could ease my frantic mind for at least a little while until this torturous cycle of frenzied panic repeated all over again.
"But mom can we stay for a little while just so that I can play on the playground with Dave and Mike?" He asked, literally jogging as I dragged him by the hand behind me just so he could keep up with my fast pace and giant steps.
"No Jamie, come on, we have to go quick because they only let us visit Sam and Aunt Brooke until 5 and then we get kicked out so come on." I jerked at his arm harder, easily pulling the child, who was easily a mere quarter of my weight, but I quickly learned that he wasn't going down without a fight.
"But mom!" He dug his heels firmly into the ground, desperate to resist my probably painful tugging and pulling on his sensitive shoulder joint. "What if I stay here and play and you can pick me up on the way to see Sam and Aunt Brooke."
I stopped walking so suddenly that Jamie physically walked right into my back, unable to process my sudden stand-still quick enough stop himself.
I turned around slowly and threateningly, hovering over Jamie so that my shadow overcame his blanched, shuddering form; nervous underneath my uncharacteristically stern tone, knowing in a flat instant that he better stop trying to put up a fight with me now because I was no longer messing around here.
"No Jamie, you can't just stay here. Do you have any idea what could happen to you if I left you out here all by yourself?" I could hear my voice growing steadily louder and louder as my grip around Jamie's forearm strengthened so tight that I wouldn't be surprised if some concerned parent around me was placing a call to Child Protective Services as we speak.
"What if you get lost, Jamie? What if you get stolen?" I screamed and ranted and raved, trying to embed concepts into his mind that were way too young for him to understand, concepts that I knew he would never be able to connect with why he couldn't just stay and play with his friends, but I didn't care. "For God's sake Jamie, what if I leave you alone and you get sick like Sam?"
I froze suddenly, my eyes widening at the shock of what had just come out my mouth as I released the grip I had on Jamie's arm and backed away slowly, watching my son as he cringed and tried to shrink himself into as small a ball as he could make for fear that I was just going to keep yelling at him.
"I'm sorry Jamie," I sighed in defeat, my shoulders sinking as my face scrunched and fell with the realization that I had just allowed myself to completely lose control in such a destructive manner. "I'm just worried about Sam honey. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
"Is Sam okay, momma?" He silently accepted my apology in the form of showing his concern towards me by inching a bit closer rather than maintaining his distance.
"Yeah Jamie," I sighed, upset with myself that I had upset Jamie to a point that he was worried more than he ever should be at this point in his life. "You know me, I just worry too much, that's all."
I placed a much gentler hand on his shoulder and guided him forwards towards my car, pleased when he chose to follow me compliantly this time.
I relaxed my hand around the ball of Jamie's shoulder. I always liked picking him up from school because the constant was something I really needed to hang onto. Same time everyday; same kids, same place, same everything really…
And when my life is changing faster than I could ever keep up with, it's important to have a constant like that in your life, because when everything else starts going to complete hell, and there's something to go back on, it's easier for me to convince myself that I'm just fine…
Really… I'm just fine.
SAM
Today I had woken up with the expectation of it being a good day… which is probably why I should have known from the start that it was all gonna blow up in my face and go straight to hell.
Physically speaking, I was feeling better… I was better. And on top of all of that, Dr. Miller's last night promise to me yesterday, the one about moving me out of isolation and back into my old room was ultimately lived up to, Jack had sent me a text with the assurance of paying me another visit, and most importantly, today was my last day of chemotherapy for the next week or two.
Sounds perfect, right? I mean, with this sudden streak of well-being that I've got going for me, what could possibly go wrong?
Well, I'll tell you exactly what could go wrong.
It all started about an hour into my chemo. I'd looked up strictly by chance and noticed the familiar tangle of Jack's oversized curly hair bobbing up and down in time with his steps as he opened my bedroom door and strode inside casually.
For a split second, I felt my heart positively lighten, my face glow bright, and my breath positively hitched in my throat, just like it always did when I was around Jack… but like I said, it was only for a second…
He didn't even have to open his mouth and explain himself before I felt the smile fading from my face.
His backpack, stuffed to such capacity that the seams were busting under the pressure, was draped across his shoulders so that the black material contrasted horribly against the frown so prominent across his face that I knew in an instant what his true intentions of this particular visit were all along.
"You're leaving…" I intercepted the opportunity for an explanation before Jack could even open his mouth, because I didn't need him to; every word that I knew he had to say was written prominently across his face anyway.
He paused for a moment, his brief lapse of silence telling me everything I needed to know so that I knew he couldn't have explained it better with actual words even though ultimately, he chose to anyway… I guess he thought he owed me that or something, a proper reasoning; and even though secretly I agreed, I didn't say anything because I knew how selfish it sounded; and the lesson of humility was one of my most important ones of these past few months.
"My foster mom called me yesterday…" He didn't even bother to point out how quickly I'd assumed the worst in him leaving; instead, he fully acknowledged how correct I'd been the whole time, "Her parents are coming up tomorrow for this weird little Christmas dinner thing and it's just that I've never met them before so she kind of wants me to be there… She got me a 3:00 train ticket back to Charlotte for today."
He dropped his head and became suddenly very interested in the patterns stamped across his shoes in an effort to keep from having to look up at me and identify the reaction written prominently across my face.
I watched as his feet shuffled awkwardly from his position in between the doorway; his mind was currently racing so fast that I could see his eyes twitching under the pressure; he was afraid to come any further into my room; afraid that if he grew too close and got too attached, it would just make it harder for him to leave when that time finally came, but at the same time, I knew there was nothing he wanted more than to take me up in his arms and tell me everything was going to be okay… I mean, I knew that because that's exactly how I was currently feeling myself.
I guess this is just why me and Jack were made for each other.
"When will I see you again?" I tried not to sound like I was accusing him of leaving to begin with through my question, because the reality was, I knew that this day was coming, and I knew that it was coming sooner than I ever would have liked… for example, today. Jack had a life to life; I knew that, and he knew that too, and just because my life had suddenly come to a grinding stand-still, it doesn't mean that everybody else's had too, so I asked him about his return before he even actually left, because in the long run, it was when I was going to see him again that really mattered anyway.
"Soon," He spoke with a sharp snapping of attention, trying to back his words with a confident posture to boot. "I mean, my foster parents will probably make me go back to school for a couple of weeks after winter break ends, but I have a feeling that I'll be able to sneak away and visit you after a while, you know?"
"Yeah… you can come up a weekend…" I smiled slowly up at him as I finished his sentence, but there was an air of displeasure towards how long it would be until that happened; and how short a time period it would be when I actually saw him again… This sucked.
I guess this is just kind of what we did; I mean, we'd done it the last time Jack had left; made these elaborate plans to meet up, to see each other again, and look where that one got us; it was months before we were actually able to make anything happen… The problem was that this time, time wasn't exactly on my side here, and Jack meant way too much for me than to let mileage fizzle between the connection we shared until he was nothing more than another face in the crowd…
"Forget that, I could come for the whole week… I mean, I don't really like school all that much anyway." Jack shrugged with a smirk, pleased by the slyness of the potential rebelliousness prominent in his statement threatening to ditch school… yeah right Jack, skipping school for an entire week to visit your cancer-stricken girlfriend… yeah, real rebellious.
But still, I offered him a smile of appreciation in response to his statement just so that he knew how much it meant to me. And besides, I could never be truly upset when Jack was around me; in fact, the only reason there was that feeling of deep disappointment slowly creeping up my spine right now was because of the potential of him soon being gone.
"Don't get too excited there stud," I cracked a joke in the form of a defense mechanism attempting to hide the true sadness actually taking over my brain right now, "I don't want you to worry about me too much, I'll be fine right here. You need to worry about yourself too, okay? Go to school, do your thing in Charlotte, and I'll be right here whenever you have time to come back. Trust me; I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."
"I'll miss you." He didn't' hesitate to profess the same thought that had been going through my brain ever since the start of his visit, but I did notice that his voice dropped a few octaves as he spoke and his cheeks flushed red under his downturned gaze to the point that his face almost looked like it was glowing.
"I'll miss you too, Jack."
He stepped a couple of paces closer to me, leaned forward, and wrapped me into a hug from underneath my arms so tightly that I was physically lifted upward, my ass lifting slightly off of the mattress underneath me.
I relaxed into his body and immediately returned the gesture; positioning my muscles in such a way that they contorted perfectly into his every joint, leaving me with the idea that I would have totally been okay staying in this position for the rest of my life.
But I knew it couldn't last forever. I knew that nothing this good could ever last forever, and I also knew that Jack knew that too.
We were both painfully reminded of that fact when he finally was forced to let go of my body, stepping away from me so that his motions created a miniscule wind that blew towards my general direction and filtered uncomfortably through my body, resulting in a voluntary shudder that overtook me with every step backwards that Jack took.
"I'll call you when I get back to Charlotte." He promised as he began playing with his hands, suddenly much more fidgety now that his inevitable departure was looming closer and closer and he started to run out of means to stall it any longer.
"Okay," I nodded feebly, watching as he swayed hesitantly on his feet for a couple more seconds before finally permitting them to move backwards with tiny, forced steps.
"I guess I'll see you later than."
"Yeah… See you later." I sighed, refusing to tear my eyes away from the sight of his feet as they continued to shuffle backwards; roll stepping closer and closer to the door with every step that he took.
"Bye Brooke," He dismissed himself politely from the surprisingly quiet Brooke, waving to her from behind the door frame.
"I'll see you soon Jack," She responded with a polite wave that followed Jack out of the door, where he finally disappeared behind it.
I stared at the wooden door panel for several seconds as it slowly inched closed on its own accord and the image of Jack walking slowly down the hallway finally faded away before disappearing completely out of sight.
"Are you okay?" Brooke asked after a couple of minutes of pure silence passed… I guess she was probably worried about me or something; probably afraid that Jack's departure would leave me fallen into an endless trap of despair; a deep, dark depression that would have ultimately lead to some kind of nervous breakdown or something if I didn't up and talk about it soon…
"I'm fine." Unfortunately for Brooke, I just wasn't quite in the mood to talk about it right now. In fact, I wasn't quite in the mood to talk about much of anything right now.
"Listen Sam, I know it sucks when somebody you really like has to leave," I knew the second she opened her mouth that she was talking about Julian; I could still hear the lingering pain trapped deep behind her voice, still prominent from Julian's recent departure, "But you know, his next visit will come before you know it."
"I know," I sighed, still determined to speak with as little words as I could manage, hoping that Brooke would eventually get the hint that I just didn't really feel like talking right now.
In all fairness to her, I knew that she knew exactly how I was feeling right now. I knew that if one person in this entire world knew exactly how I was feeling right now, it was her. I mean, I'd lost Jack in the time I needed him the most, and Brooke had lost Julian in the time that I knew she needed him the most… In fact, I think I'd go as far to say that I was almost better off than Brooke, because at least Jack and I had left in mutual agreement and under good terms. Brooke and Julian… well, I didn't exactly know what Brooke and Julian were right now, mainly because I knew that Brooke didn't like to talk about it. I could see it in her eyes, the pain that it caused every time his name was mentioned…
I snuck quick, tiny glances over at Brooke, trying to read her expression and see what she was thinking while at the same time, hoping she wouldn't pick up on it and falsely assume I wanted to talk about what had just happened.
Her eyes looked empty; I was having a hard time distinguishing her exact thought processes, but I was willing to bet a large sum of money that it had something to do with Julian…
Another shudder involuntarily spread across my body; a sudden reminder of how apt Brooke and I were to abandonment. It's just the type of people we are, I guess; we were born to find somebody, fall in love, get attached, and then lose them; all in one, giant boom.
Take Jack for instance; I was willing to bet a million dollars that if Jack hadn't been around these past few days, sitting with me, holding my hand and making sure that I knew that he believed that I was going to get better, there was no way in hell I would have recovered as fast as I did. In fact, I probably would have been freaking dead by now for all I knew.
There I was; sick, dying, stuck in isolation and downright miserable… and then Jack shows up and now I'm better, healthy again… well, as healthy as I could be… I mean, I'd even got my doctors talking to me about letting me go home by the end of the day…
Jack did all of that.
Sure, you could argue it was me; me who fought off the infection, me that convinced my doctors I was well enough to be sent home, but no, I knew for a fact that it wasn't… it was him.
And then there was Brooke; the single mother of a random teenager she'd simply taken in from off the streets out of the mere kindness of her heart until that random teenager unexpectedly gets a cancer diagnosis and throws her life into a tailspin… I knew that it was Julian who'd gotten her through those initial days of the harrowing unknown. It was Julian that motivated her to keep going until I got better… It was all Julian…
And now look at us; Jack's gone, Julian's gone, and who knows when… or if either of them is ever coming back.
I've learned to accept the fact that it's simply in our genes; wrapped up into every single tissue, every cell in our body's so that it's not a question, it's an absolutely certainty that eventually, I'm just gonna end up alone.
I don't know why I even bother anymore; why I keep on fighting, I mean what's it all for… to live? Yeah, great, to live and then go right back to everybody abandoning me. First Julian, who's been gone an entire week and who I haven't received so much as a phone call from since Friday, and then Jack, who just got dragged four hours away by the parents who weren't even really his parents…
So far in my life, I have lost absolutely everybody who has ever mattered to me, so who's to say that Brooke isn't next, right? Which just brings me right back to my initial question; what the hell is the point?
Besides, it's true what they say anyway; when we die, no matter how hard you try to avoid it, you're just gonna die alone. So here's some advice; you better just go ahead and accept this fact for what it actually is, and then, just be ready for when it actually happens.
BROOKE
This day started off as being pretty weird, and you know what, it's pretty much continued that pattern ever since.
I guess it all started after Jack left; at least, that's when I noticed that Sam had begun her rapid, downward plunge… mainly because Sam, in her typical fashion, has refused to speak a single word to me since then.
I couldn't really blame her too much, I guess; we were one in the same, Sam and I, as badly as I felt for poor Sam about that one… That's probably why we've been able to keep up with each other for so long now.
Did I mention that we were also both some of the two biggest pessimists that the world has ever seen?
There were a few surprises up all of our sleeves today; some unexpected, others not so much, but I can tell you this; if there was one surprise I definitely was not expecting, it came in the form of a not-so-expected visit from Dr. Miller that came in just as the sun began setting behind our new room on the 6th floor oncology unit of Tree Hill Memorial Hospital.
"We're going to send Sam home tonight."
I think it's safe to say that both Sam's eyes, and my own, probably bugged straight out of our own heads. Of course, I'm willing to bet that it was for two totally different reasons.
I don't think it was humanly possible for Sam to hear better news. The fact was, despite a periodic back and forth trip to the hospital for a round of chemotherapy a day, Sam was supposed to get home on Saturday… which just means that she's probably been itching to get out of here even sine before she was admitted.
"Really?" Sam and I spoke the exact same word at the exact same moment, but the starkly different tone in our voices were prominent enough to express our vastly different views towards the matter at hand here.
Sam snuck me a quick glance, telling me that she too, noticed the same thing that I had and was silently begging me not to ruin this opportunity for freedom that she'd finally found… But I wasn't dealing with any of her attitude right now. Sam being healthy was much more important to me than Sam being pissed at me, so excuse me, but I didn't just sit in a panic for more than half a week, freaking out that my daughter was dying only to have her be sent home way before I knew she was ready for it… And absolutely nothing that her doctors, who clearly didn't know nearly as much about what was best for Sam's health as I did, told me was going to change my mind.
"Dr. Miller… uh… are you sure that Sam's ready to go home already?" I asked, watching through the corner of my eye as Sam straightened herself up in bed and put her best healthy face forward in an effort to contradict absolutely everything I'd just said, simultaneously initiating a silent battle of will between the two of us.
"Well, her fever has been broken for more than 24 hours now, and her leukocyte counts have been normal since Sunday night so we are feeling a lot more comfortable continuing her remaining chemotherapy treatments on the outpatient basis we planned on before we took that little… detour. Of course, you should still take extra precautions while she's at home because her immune system is still recovering from the infection, but nothing indicates to us that there is any reason for Sam to be unable to continue her treatments outside of the hospital."
Her argument came with a list of very persuasive premises, but still, I wasn't so sure… and I was willing to express that uncertainty until either Dr. Miller had convinced me that this indeed would be the right decision to make, or, the more likely scenario, of me fighting hand and foot in overturning the ruling in Sam's bid for freedom.
"I… uh… I'm not so sure." I think the skepticism in my voice was pretty prominent in expressing my true belief of the scenario, but Sam had other plans in her mind; plans that she was going to make sure were heard to their full potential before I had the opportunity to override them.
"I'm fine, really, I'll be fine. I don't even feel sick anymore, I swear." She begged and pleaded, directing her words towards me rather than towards the doctor, knowing full-well that it wasn't Dr. Miller that she had to convince… it was me.
"Brooke, I know we had a pretty big scare the other day with Sam's health, and I know that I gave you a lot of very overwhelming information about the possibilities of that infection…" She started carefully, trying to pretend as if she actually understood exactly how I felt the moment she told me that Sam was dying; but I knew there was no way she did… there was no way she could. "But that information proved to be a stark overstatement; the infection was much less severe than we originally thought, and now that it has cleared out of her system entirely, there would be no reason to keep her here other than to monitor her, which we could do just as easily with her from home."
I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times so that I roughly resembled a fish stuck out of water, but I couldn't find anything else I could say; I couldn't come up with any valid argument as to why Sam shouldn't be released other than the fact that I was her mother, and the gut instinct inside me told me so…
But I stayed quiet too long, and the doctor eventually took my silence as a form of submission towards the knowledge that she knew better than I did about what was best for Sam, and instead of continuing the argument, she turned her face down towards the stack of papers in her hands, scribbling rapidly across them.
"I'm going to prescribe you a basic cocktail of antibiotics, Sam." She spoke as she wrote, casually tearing page after page off of her prescription pad, piling the loose papers into a substantial tower on Sam's bedside table. I eyed it as it continued growing larger and larger… If Dr. Miller was trying to convince me that Sam would be just fine, it probably would have been better for her not to prescribe an entire pharmacy's worth of pills to her, I'm just sayin'…
"Here you go, Brooke." She handed me the mass pile of prescriptions followed immediately by an equally as large stack of papers that I recognized instantly as the familiar discharge forms by which my signature was the only thing left to determine Sam's freedom.
I flipped all the way to the back of the papers where I knew all of the thick lines and bolded X's were, beckoning for my signature.
I don't know why this was all so difficult for me; why my hand was shaking or why sweat had just started teeming out of the pores across my forehead… No, never mind, I understood completely; I knew exactly why this was so difficult for me; it was because I'd just spent the last four days sitting up at Sam's bedside, just wondering whether or not she would die… So sure, I guess that when I thought about it that way, I did understand why I was so hesitant. What I couldn't understand was why Sam and Dr. Miller weren't as skeptical about all of this as I was…
Maybe it was because Dr. Miller had the opportunity to filter in and out of Sam's room only periodically, never having to linger for more than a few minutes at a time on just how sick Sam really was; or maybe it was because Sam had lost all of her memories of these past couple of days through her haze of drugs and sickness, but whatever it was, it had obviously not had the same impact on them as it had on me… they obviously hadn't been as effected by all of this as I had.
I was starting to think that maybe I was the only one going crazy over here.
My pen hovered with a shuddering force over the papers for much longer than was actually necessary. I could feel Sam staring intensely, boring a hole through the back of my head as her breaths came out heavily, struggling to control them as she waited to see what it was I was going to do.
The time went in slow motion as I finally sighed, lowered the pen into the paper, and stuck the tip into the sheet for a couple more lingering seconds before I finally scribbled a slow, sloppy Brooke P. Davis across the line at the bottom of the page.
"Great," Dr. Miller spoke as if she hadn't just noticed that I'd spent about five times the normal amount of time it took to sign a damn piece of paper. "I'll get you set up; hopefully we'll be able to get you out of here in the next couple of hours."
I sighed and handed the papers back over, wondering exactly what it was that I just did, wondering, as I watched Dr. Miller turn out the door, carrying the release form with my John Hancock shimmering with fresh ink straight into the hallway, what the hell it was that I'd just gotten myself into…
And that's exactly how I ended up here; about an hour later, held up inside of my car, stiff as a board in pure fear at what the trek that I was about to make might lead to for not only me, but for Sam too.
I watched as Sam nodded off slowly from her position in the passenger seat, leaving me to barely pay any attention to anything else but her as I pulled out of the parking garage of Tree Hill Memorial Hospital, drove 20 minutes out of the way only to pick up nearly $500 worth of prescriptions for Sam, and finally, travelled back the same way I'd just came towards home.
And about half way into the journey, at about the same time that Sam fell asleep, leaving me nervously sneaking glances towards her every couple of seconds or so just to make sure that she was still breathing, something very strange happened; it started to snow.
I hate the snow.
No, literally, every single time a rare snow shower managed to hover over the North Carolina landscape, blanketing the grass, the trees, the streets, the buildings… everything with a thin layer of thick, white dust, I couldn't help but think about how much I couldn't wait for the sun to come back out and melt it all away…
And trust me, this time was no different.
In fact, I'd have to say that if anything, this time was even more intense than the others, it was much more important, much more impactful, because this time, the sun had much more to melt than the obnoxious snow on the ground; it also had to melt away this strange feeling that was currently burrowing deep inside of my body, it had to melt away this continued frenzy of panic constantly hovering over me; and then, only after all of that was said and done, maybe I would finally be able to regain a little bit of my sense of control in this world.
This thought took complete control over my mind for a long time until finally, I pulled into my driveway, threw the car in park, and sunk down deep into the cushions of my seat for an extra minute or two until I finally felt confident enough to turn the keys in the ignition and shut the car off.
I turned towards Sam, watching her for a few more moments as she remained fast asleep in her chair; mouth wide open and chest moving up and down with the ease of sleep-controlled breathing.
"Sam," I gave her a light little nudge with my hand, but she didn't so much as move an inch.
"Sam!" I questioned her louder, this time, full-on slapping her in the shoulder with a much more vigorous force so that she finally responded to me, grunting out her expression of anger towards my attempt of awakening her briefly before she simply rolled over onto her other side and fell right back into her deep cloud of sleep.
I sighed, accepting defeat as I threw my door open and scrambled out of the driver's seat, where I walked towards Sam's side of the car, threw open the passenger's side door, and fully prepared to physically lift Sam out of the car and into the house if I had to.
"Ugh… Brooke, what are you doing?" She questioned my intentions with a sleepy haze just as I managed to get a good grip underneath her knees and lift her easily from the car and onto her feet.
"I'm taking you inside; come on, we're home." I guided her with slow, precise movements up the path, refusing to remove the protective arm I had across her shoulder as she took miniscule steps forward. I tried to believe that it was just her exhaustion slowing our movements, and honestly, maybe that's exactly what it was, but who knew; there was still that continuing over-worried mom issue screaming at me that it was something else; something much more serious.
I practically carried her, tucking her body firmly underneath my arms as I unlocked the front door, pushed it open, and virtually dragged Sam inside.
"Wanna just go straight to bed?" I asked her, but I didn't wait for her response before I instantly started pulling her towards the direction of her bedroom.
"Mmmm…" She mumbled, and even though I wasn't exactly sure whether that was a positive response or a negative one, I took it as a confirmation and laid her down into her bed before pulling the covers high above her shoulders without even taking her shoes off first.
"Sleep Sam," I whispered to her, running my palm across the top of her head, "I'll be here when you wake up."
I stood upright from my hovered position over Sam's bed, lingering for only a moment or two longer before I backed up towards the door, my eyes focused on Sam the entire time as I paused only briefly to flip the light off before I closed the door, listening as it slowly creaked shut with a sharp finality.
I circled into the bathroom briefly, dropping the oversized paper bag full to the brim with antibiotics down onto the countertop before I made my way into the living room, barely thinking twice before I threw my body onto the couch-cushions, landing with a hard, over exaggerated plop.
I'd barely leaned against the cushions, and in fact, I'd just closed my eyes when the feeling of my phone vibrating from the inside of my pants pocket caused them to snap right back open… I should just stop trying to achieve comfort in my life now.
I arched my back uncomfortably, gaining access to my pocket so that I could dig around for a couple of seconds before I finally pulled out my phone, looking down and focusing my eyes on the name 'Haley' that flashed across the screen underneath the blinking symbol of a text message.
I flipped the phone open and studied the message carefully; "Hey Brooke, sorry I didn't make it to the hospital today, ran into some problems with Jamie. I owe you a wine date."
I took a steep exhale and re-read the message one more time, just because my mind was so out of the loop today, I didn't quite process it the first time… In fact, today had wound up being so crazy, that I'd actually completely forgotten that Haley and Jamie were even supposed to stop by today.
I couldn't help but wonder what kind of problems with Jamie Haley was talking about… I guess I would find out when we had Haley's promised "wine date", but I had the strangest feeling that Haley's distance with me and Sam had a lot more to it than a simple problem or two with her son.
I mean, I wasn't gonna say anything here or anything, but on Saturday, I'd gotten the vibe that Haley was having a pretty hard time watching Sam get sicker. I could see it in her eyes, feel it in her distance, and of course, I didn't blame her in the slightest bit for any of that; the problem was, I didn't know what to do to make her feel better, because I felt the same exact way myself, and considering I'd yet to learn how to even deal with my own emotions, I couldn't even begin to pinpoint what was going on with Haley's…
Like I said, I wasn't gonna say anything, so instead of making sure that she was okay, instead of acting in a way that any friend should, I sent her the simplest of text messages back; "No worries, Sam got out of the hospital today anyway. I'm holding you to that wine date."
I sent the reply and threw my phone carelessly back onto the table in front of me before I sunk back into the couch. After a couple seconds, I heard the alert tone vibrate heavily against the thick glass, indicating Haley's return response, but I ignored it.
I found myself steadily slipping into a catatonic state; a catatonic state that I was willing to embrace openly.
I just sat like that for several minutes. I was quite sure that if, for some bizarre reason, somebody was to walk in on me right now, they would think I was having some kind of seizure or something. I lay limp on my couch; muscles relaxed flaccidly so that my limbs fanned out around me and my neck sunk under the dead weight of my head. My eyes just stared straight ahead; barely blinking, barely even moving as my mouth slowly drooped open and my very brain positively slowed.
I probably stayed like this for a solid five minutes, maybe even longer before suddenly, with an alert attentiveness and I vigorous shake of my head, I re-entered reality and focused on my surroundings. The blood rushed quickly back into my head, and as my higher brain functions slowly sparked back to life, one conscious thought entered my mind.
I needed some alcohol.
That was the motivation that ultimately allowed me to push myself upward and off of the couch where I rapidly made my way into the kitchen, barely stopping as I grabbed an always prepared bottle of Merlot by its neck and a fresh glass off of the counter top before stepping off onto the balcony without so much of a second thought. I had some stuff I had to think about, some life assessing I needed to straighten out, and as I'd failed in every other attempt I'd made to do just that, well this was the only thing left that I could actually think to do.
Equipped with nothing more than a bottle of wine, I lowered myself into the depths of the freezing December air with nothing more than a t-shirt, pair of jeans, and bottle of alcohol to keep me warm.
It stopped snowing hours ago, just as it usually does with North Carolina snow storms; always brief, never significant, but still, that didn't mean that the temperatures magically sparked up into tropical levels… Of course, I didn't really mind; in fact, I barely even noticed it at all.
I poured myself a generous glass of wine, and by generous, I mean generous. The liquid was dancing across the brim of the glass so that I had to coddle it between my hands and sip in periodic gulps until the levels were reduced to a point that allowed me to at least drink normally without spilling all over myself.
After that I was ready; I was prepared to reevaluate my life, prepared to figure out what to do, where to go…
I'd already tried everything I could ever possibly think of to accomplish this; every meditation attempt, every yoga move, every self help book… And now, now I decided that I would try the one thing that I'd never really tried before; I decided to shut my mind off completely.
I mean, if I didn't think about anything, it couldn't hurt me as badly, right?
I'd been bombarded in this very week alone with more distress and confusion than I could ever deal with.
Between Julian leaving, this whole situation with Jack, the damn health insurance debacle, and Sam getting so sick… I'd been so overloaded with so many emotions in such a short span of time that I didn't even know what to feel anymore… I think it's safe to say that I'd finally blown a complete fuse.
I just think that it's a damn miracle that it took me this long.
Within the first five minutes, I'd found complete success in this method of thinking… Is it bad to say that the only time I truly feel anything is when I'm feeling absolutely nothing at all?
Over the horizon, I began to see lightning flashing across the sky; sharp bolts of rage that lingered for a couple of seconds, lighting up the sky as if it were the middle of the day as opposed to 10:00 at night before it would all just fork, and fizzle out.
It was only moments later that the rain actually began to fall; sharp, freezing droplets that pierced my skin and diluted my wine until the alcohol content was reduced to practically nothing…
I'm not sure how long I stayed out there for, but as the time gradually progressed, I could physically feel the rain pelting down on me harder and harder until it began to literally hurt me, but for some reason, I still couldn't bring myself to move.
I guess I'd just gotten caught up in the perfection of it all, and ultimately, that's really what kept me firmly in my seat, firmly planted there long after my t-shirt and jeans were soaked straight through, long after I physically began shaking underneath the freezing December rain, and long after my very limbs had gone completely numb.
It was just the ironic symbolism of it all that captured my attention so fully. I couldn't have scripted it if I tried.
You see, there was a storm headed our way; and no, I'm not talking about the kind of storm that produces devastating flood waters, 200 mile per hour winds, and death tolls higher than you could imagine, I'm talking about a different kind of storm, and even though I wasn't exactly sure what it was or when it was going to actually come, I knew this much; that just like the storm I'd found myself caught in the middle of right now, when this storm came, I didn't think that I'd be ready for it when it did.