The Art of Starting Over (Demi Lovato)
Santana's POV
September
I'd changed my outfit sixteen times while trying to find the perfect look for court.
For six weeks, I'd done everything I could to get permission to hold my own children again.
My son had been in and out of the hospital, my daughter was now speaking in bigger sentences, and my wife looked more exhausted every time I saw her because she was trying to do it all on her own.
Between Officer Coleman, Amy, and Britt, I had pages of statements on my fitness to be around the kids.
All of this was only for supervised visitation, it was going to be a breeze.
Everyone was on my side in this...or so I thought.
It was all going well, and then the judge turned to Mami.
"As her primary guardian during her house arrest, I'd like to hear your thoughts on your daughter's competence and readiness to begin supervised visitation and potentially regain her rights to Isaac Aden and Daniela Susan Lopez."
Mami squeezed my hand before standing up a bit straighter and then looked the judge directly in her eyes before spouting a bunch of bullshit.
"Your honor, I love my grandchildren, and I know that my daughter does too, but her love for cocaine has superseded that for too long. I don't believe Santana is ready for the responsibility of taking care of anyone but herself at this time, and visitation would do nothing but confuse the kids if she relapses."
I felt winded as I gripped the arms of my chair. The judge wrote something down, and then she looked back at my mother.
"Can you provide examples of how she might be unfit?"
"While I agree that she's done everything that she's been asked to do, it seems as if she is just going through the motions, and once there is a change in her routine, I fear that since she hasn't established enough of a foundation in her recovery, she'll go right back to drugs and reckless sex. I know my daughter, your honor, better than anyone, and I know for a fact that she has always followed the rules when she is being watched. It's when she's alone that she can't be trusted. I have yet to see her go above and beyond what has been asked of her, aside from helping first-time parents change diapers in class twice. I've seen this pattern before. What she did to Isaac was a repeat offense. I want what is best for my daughter and my grandchildren, and right now, it would best if they stayed in the full custody of Brittany Lopez, and were kept from visitation until she is stable." I went to cut her the fuck off, but Britt was staring straight at me, silently pleading with me not to, so I stayed quiet. "The actions that lead her to this situation are worthy of more than a slap on the wrist. It warrants more time than six weeks."
"Thank you for your statement. Now that I've heard from everyone, I will render my verdict."
Mami sat down beside me and reached for my hand, but I balled up my fists in my lap and stared straight ahead.
Fuck her.
I felt the bitterness seeping from my pores when the judge looked straight at me and gave me that fucking serious look.
"Santana, after reviewing your case and taking into account all the statements provided today, I am leaving the PFA and suspension of custody in place until you have completed your probation in five months, at which time we will reconvene to review your progress and I will render my final judgment."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Britt said from across the room, and the judge glared at her.
The judge talked a bit more, and I could feel Mami looking my way, but I didn't acknowledge her; instead, I thanked the judge for her time before leaving the courtroom after we were dismissed.
I held my tears and rage inside, knowing that this wasn't the time or the place for it.
My mother had fooled me into believing that she finally had my fucking back, but it was all a lie.
She was always thinking from a legal perspective and not giving two shits about my feelings.
I was pissed off!
How dare they deny me.
I had done the work, I had attended the classes, and it still wasn't enough.
My head was pounding as I pushed through the courthouse doors and took a deep breath, trying as hard as I could to not lose my shit.
Thank God I had the foresight to make an appointment with Amy after my hearing.
At least in therapy, with just Amy as my sounding board, I'd be able to unleash all the vitriol that was burning in my gut.
For the past week, in every therapy session, Amy had been preparing me for the possibility of not getting what I wanted.
We'd talked about the sadness that I would feel if that happened and how to deal with it, but we hadn't talked about what to do if my own fucking mother decided to turn on me.
She'd prepared me for Britt, asking that my rights not be reinstated, but not for this.
I knew that I needed to just get to my therapy session, but there was no way to just leave without Mami; even though she hadn't immediately followed me out of the courtroom, I knew she would find me any moment.
So I swallowed back my anger, choosing instead to wait until I was in the safety of Amy's office.
When Mami caught up with me, she didn't dare touch me. Instead, she walked down to the curb and hailed a cab.
She looked stern and unwavering. Maybe her reasons were valid, but right then, she was the last person I wanted to be near, and unfortunately, I didn't have much choice.
Fuck my life.
While she waited on a cab, my eyes caught Brittany wiping tears from her eyes as she walked towards me.
Quinn was a few steps behind her, texting on her phone.
"I'm sorry, baby." B said as she rubbed my shoulder. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
I shrugged my shoulder and tried to keep the tears away. "It's fine."
"No, it's not. If she was going to do that, she should have prepared you. I can tell that she didn't, and it's my fault that you have to put up with her."
"It's not, B. I did what I did...you had every right to take the kids away and protect them. I don't blame you for this; I have no one to blame but myself."
"That doesn't mean that you can't be upset. She's always been so...not a mom." Britt said, and then she smiled tightly at Gladys as she waved me over. "You better go. I'll call you tonight after I pick up the kids."
Mami not only wasn't apologetic, but she also seemed offended that I was mad at her.
We sat together in the back of the cab, and within seconds my mother began her lecture.
"You have to understand; they were going to deny you anyway because you agreed to probation and house arrest. You admitted to endangering your son again. You're lucky that they didn't throw the book at you. You are lucky that you got to sit in your own home and be with me at the very least, instead of sitting in a jail cell all alone. Isaac will never be the same; this has affected him far greater than you may realize. I am sorry it hurts you. You'll thank me when you can get that monitor off your ankle before picking up your children. I did you a favor, Mi'ja."
"If you say so." I muttered, and when my phone buzzed, I looked away from her and down at the screen.
A picture of Brittany with the kids popped up with a short caption.
We love you, Mami!-Britt
And then the tears came.
Mami rubbed my arm, and I let her because even though I wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, I still needed her to have my back.
The FBI was still circling, and the grand I made from the song I'd sold to Frankie could only stretch so far.
Living in that house was my lifeline; going to those meetings and attending that church was helping me.
My eyes didn't drift away from the picture until we pulled to stop outside of Amy's office.
"Nanita?" Mami called to me as I stormed to the office doors; I stopped in my tracks, waiting for whatever bogus shit she had to say. "I love you."
"You don't know what love is." I muttered under my breath; if she heard me, she didn't show it as she followed me into the waiting room.
As I walked into Amy's office, I was glad to leave my mother and her fucking excuses in the waiting room.
I stood at the sidebar in Amy's office while she finished a phone call and prepared a cup of tea before taking a seat on the couch.
Her warm smile greeted me seconds later as she pushed the box of tissues towards me. "I heard it didn't go your way."
"My mother turned on me in there. She thinks she's doing me a favor, but it feels more like she's shitting on everything I'm trying to build."
Amy tsked, "If it's any consolation, I gave a glowing report on your progress and recommended weekly visitation."
I nodded and sipped my tea.
"Well, I appreciate that. Britt also told them that she believed it would be in the kids' best interest if I were allowed to visit with them. You would think that her opinion as their other parent would hold more weight than my mother's, but nope."
"What terms were you given?"
"The judge decided that it would be best to attach my custody and visitation terms to my probation terms. So, I get a final review after I complete probation if all of the reports from you, Brittany, and my case manager show a consistent recovery."
"Which put things out to five more months."
"Yeah, it's bullshit. It means that I won't be able to be there with my baby girl when she turns 3. I will miss Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years' all because my mother couldn't take my side just this once."
Amy bit her lip and wrote something down before deciding to be a fucking contrarian. "Let's imagine for a moment that your mother, who has been at your side for the last six weeks, is seeing something in you that you may not be seeing in yourself. It might be her opinion that giving you more time to evaluate your life choices might provide you with a longer recovery."
"How do you figure?"
"How long were you in rehab after your breakdown, Santana?"
"Three months."
"And how long were your stays after that?"
"A month and a few weeks."
"So, if I have my math correct, in total in the last two years, you've spent about four and a half months in rehab?"
"Yes."
"And you still ended up relapsing?"
I sucked in a breath and tried not to snap at Amy because she was a damn good therapist but fuck her for thinking that this time was like all the other times.
"This time was different; I didn't go back to drugs on my own; that asshole led me to them. He forced drugs into my body, and then I was given a deficiency that made things worse if I stopped taking them." I felt like shit, but I needed to be clear. "Each day, I feel worse, Amy, but I get up, I take my medication, and I keep it moving. It's not my fault that I have the shakes; my body is literally sick for drugs. I'm doing my fucking best. Why can't she see that?"
"Fair point. I understand your anger, Santana; I think it's valid. I will always validate your feelings in our sessions. However, you should always expect that I will try to provide you with the opposing perspective."
I sighed and took a long sip of my tea before wiping away my tears.
She was right.
"What am I supposed to do? I promised myself that I wouldn't miss any more birthdays...but now I don't have a choice." More tears came as I tried to think about my next steps.
"Brittany is still amenable to video calls?"
"Yeah."
"Then you keep at what you've been doing, meetings, composing music, and therapy. Please keep an open line of communication with Brittany, ask about the kids' school, and show that you still are interested in parenting decisions. Do every single thing that you can to make denying you again nearly impossible."
"Okay."
After sitting with Amy for a bit longer, going over the plan for the next few months, I walked out of that room feeling like there was a path forward. I could even see that maybe I did need more time, but that didn't mean that I didn't want to curse out my mother.
And she must have known it because it wasn't her waiting for me. Instead, it was Brittany.
"Hey, B."
"I sent your mom home. You still have time before you need to be back at the house. Want to walk back?"
"Are you sure you want to walk that far?"
"Yeah, it will be good for us to talk through things. I want to make this as easy as I can for you and the kids. I won't let you miss out on the big stuff, and you should be rewarded for all the good you've done."
"This is why I love you, Britt Britt."
She smirked. "I thought it was because you liked my ass."
"Well yeah, there's that too."
October
Q had been busting her ass, researching everything that I would need to beat this deficiency. Then late one night, she called and asked me to get cleared to go to the doctor the next day, so I did without asking follow-up questions. If she was asking, it was because she had a good reason to.
So, first thing in the morning, without a single piece of food in my stomach, as requested, she met me on the front steps and then drove me straight to the hospital.
The whole drive, she had been rambling about mRNA and proteins, DNA stuff, and something about purification. I was completely unsure of what she was saying, so I let her ramble until we pulled into the hospital parking garage.
Once we were still, I took her hand in mine and waited for her to look at me.
"I need you to repeat to me only what is necessary and tell it to me like I'm stupid."
"Right. I found a treatment that should work, but we have to tailor it to your specific DNA before doing anything. I contacted a few of my colleagues at the Mayo Clinic, they agreed that this should work. Because I'm not a doctor yet, so they are going to oversee this process. I told them you were restricted to New York, so they agreed to fly someone out here to start the process hopefully next week. Today you're getting a physical done with the doctor who will be overseeing your treatment. You will need to get a full work up before we get started. According to Britt, you haven't had a physical since after you had Dani, so finding out if you're even eligible for the treatment is paramount."
"Has it been that long?"
"That's what she says, aside from rehab, of course."
"Okay, then, how long do you think this will take today?"
"An hour tops."
She squeezed my hand and tried to smile, but I could see how nervous she was.
"Q, even if this doesn't work, I still appreciate the fuck out of you for trying. I love you so much, kid."
"Thanks. Now let's get in there; I promised to get your blood samples overnighted to Minnesota today."
"Wow, you mean business."
"Of course I do. I love you too, by the way."
Arm in arm, we made our way into the hospital and went straight to an office on the third floor.
I had never seen my best friend more in her element than when she was in that room with the two doctors who were chatting to other doctors on a tablet.
She jumped right into the conversation while I sat in the chair that she had pointed me to.
And then, after they finished having a conversation that had way too many scientific words for me, the primary doctor came over and held out her hand.
"Hi Santana, I'm Dr. Murray from the Mayo clinic; I'll be administering your physical today and guiding you through your treatment."
"Okay."
"You didn't have time to submit your medical history, so we'll go over that first. Is that alright?"
Q stood close by, listening to the other doctor go over something, but keeping an eye on me.
"Sure."
She asked all the same old questions, and I answered them on autopilot, but then she got to the question that I had been dreading out of habit.
"History of drug use?"
"Yes."
"Can you list them?"
"Cocaine, Heroin, Marijuana, Angel Dust, Ecstasy, Meth, and methadone. Mainly coke though."
Instead of hesitating like many doctors did, which is why I avoided them, she just moved right along to the next question.
When I looked up, she didn't look judgmental. Instead, she gave me a soft smile.
"My father has been in recovery for 25 years; it's possible, the fact that you're trying any avenue to deal with this disease is admirable."
"Thank you."
I had never heard anyone outside of rehab call addiction a disease, but the more I thought about it, the more it sure felt like one.
When she was done with the 3rd degree, I had to climb on the scale, which I hoped to God wasn't bad.
Quinn was always on me about eating, and I was seriously trying, but I couldn't help it if I didn't have an appetite.
"101 pounds, let me get your height, stand back and relax your shoulders. 5'4." She looked at her chart and then back at me. "Are you traditionally underweight, Santana?"
"I'm not just in drug recovery; I've struggled with eating disorders for most of my life." I admitted, and she checked something on her clipboard.
"Anorexia or bulimia?"
"Both...I guess."
She just nodded and kept it moving; I liked her; she was my kind of doctor.
"If you could hop on the table, I'm going to take your vitals."
My blood pressure was higher than it should be, and my pulse was lower; I bit my bottom lip as she shined a light up my nose.
I was so unsure of how she was keeping a straight face because Quinn sure wasn't.
Usually the queen of composure, Q would scowl every time there was a number that she didn't like.
When Dr. Murray stepped out so I could undress and put a gown on, I gave Quinn shit for it.
"You really need to work on your poker face, Fabray."
"I'm sorry. Usually, I'm fine, everyone tells me so, but it's hard when it comes to the people I love. That's why I'm not allowed to even take your temperature. I'm viewed as family."
"Oh good, I was afraid they'd let you practice poking me with needles or some shit."
"I wish."
I organized a glee get-together for Halloween at my apartment with karaoke and refreshments. I then bribed Ari to watch my kids so that Britt could have a night off.
And then I sat home on video chat and enjoyed the celebration.
Quinn had direct orders of which cake to get and had even picked up my present for Britt.
Rachel was fresh off her first off-off-Broadway show and, even though she was pregnant with baby number 2, was giving a full performance of half the soundtrack of Funny Girl.
Britt didn't stop smiling the whole time, and it made me feel amazing.
And then, when they brought the cake out, I asked everyone to shut the fuck up...nicely, so that I could sing to my wife.
She kept looking at the screen with bright eyes and a grin while I serenaded her.
After that, I ended the call because I felt sick.
Without the synthetic in my system, I had to deal with withdrawal when my body was still for too long.
And I didn't want any of the glee kids to see me like that.
Britt should enjoy her birthday, and for that to happen, I had to take myself out of the equation, no matter how much I didn't want to.
Halloween reminded me of the loss of my innocence, and I hated being alone for it, but I needed to be.
I hated to admit it, but there was some truth to what Mami had said; I was still selfish but more because I had to be.
By caring about myself, and my well-being, I could focus on making my recovery stick.
Mami had been trying to get me to spend time with her and Pa, but I didn't have an appetite.
Also, being around her made me want to hurl.
Britt had loaded up my mini-fridge with all the junk that I could need because she understood why I needed as little contact with Mami as possible.
I turned on the Kardashians and curled up in bed with Snix, Elmo, and a mini carton of ice cream.
This was my party.
And later, when Quinn came stumbling into bed with me...I would break down in her arms over all the stuff that I had missed, and she would tell me just how much Brittany loved me for it.
She'd play videos of everyone singing and then a long rambling rant from Brittany, drunk as a skunk, about which of my body parts was her favorite.
When she said my armpits, I wasn't even a little surprised.
November
I sat anxiously in the doctor's office a month later, this time with Britt's hand in mine because the bloodwork from the physical came back a little off. I was in bad shape so, the remedy had to wait until I got to a normal weight, hydration level, and my blood pressure was down.
After yet another physical, Britt reminded me of things to add to my medical history, like asthma. Although it never affected me like it did, my son, Britt, and I waited for Dr. Murray to bring us the results.
I rested my head on her shoulder while she traced her fingers over my hand.
"Mami is still trying to get back in my good graces." I told her, trying to fill in the silence.
"You haven't made things worse, have you?"
"No. I talk to her when it's necessary. Still, I don't go above and beyond for her anymore since she was so concerned about that...I've been volunteering at the church...setting up and breaking down meetings. I am out of that house as much as I can without getting in trouble."
"Good. It serves her right. What she did was fucking shady." Britt sounded angry, but her touches were soft. It was the kind of attention I needed the first time I had come to the doctor, not Quinn's paranoid looks. I was already crazy anxious, and Britt seemed to always know how to calm me.
"How is therapy, B?"
"It's good. We are all happier afterward."
"All?" I sat up, feeling confused. "What are you talking about?"
She gave me that spacy look that called back Brittany of old, then rolled her eyes. "I put the kids in therapy. It's different for them because they're little, but after Izzy stopped seeing you in the hospital, he started acting depressed...like he wouldn't talk or eat. He was crying a lot."
"But...B...I...when I see him on video chats, he's fine."
"That's because he's magically fine when he knows he's going to talk to you. All of the worries and problems go away. It's been like that since he first saw you after his coma; as mad as everyone is at what you did, all Izzy wants is you, Ana. I put that in the court papers; I told your mother that, and she still stood before the judge and said what she said. It's why I had that outburst."
"Fuck. This is all my fault."
"Stop it. Therapy is good for them; it is teaching them how to respond to their feelings. It's what I needed as a kid. Maybe if I had it, I wouldn't have become so...broken. I am trying every day to be a better person and be the person you deserve; that's why when Quinn told me about these appointments, I insisted that she come to me if she couldn't make it. Your mom doesn't need to be involved in everything; she's crossed way too many lines."
"But she's still my mom, B." I don't know where that thought came from, but Britt didn't bother arguing.
"And I have respected that, but there are certain things that a mom should step back on doing when you have a wife. It's my job to support you, and the show is pretty much finished; I'm just there to make sure these dancers can perform every step in their sleep when we open. Quinn has to go to classes, which are more important than me being at work."
"Thanks, B. I've been doing everything the doctors asked of me, and now with me doing extra at church, I've had to hold myself accountable. It's been hard, but I've managed. Even with eating, I've been doing as much as I can, but it's stressed me out because I'm sick half the time, which means I only keep down half of what I eat. With stuff so strained between Mami and me, I barely have an appetite. I stress that I might not be able to get my body together enough to take this remedy."
"Relax, baby. You've been following the diet they put you on and drinking those milkshake things, right? I'm holding down things at home; I just need you to do everything you need to do...and make it so your mom can't stand in your way ever again. Just so you know, even if they don't give you custody back, I am moving you out of that house as soon as possible."
"Thanks, B."
There was a knock on the door, and then Dr. Murray came in all smiles.
"Good news, Santana. You are up 12 pounds, and your vitals have improved. I feel comfortable giving the all-clear for your treatment."
"Really?"
"Absolutely. You'll need to sign some things and meet with a dietician weekly to monitor your vitals. You'll need to maintain this weight so that the treatment work like it was designed."
"Okay, and when would I start?"
"There will be four doses in total, one dose every six weeks. Each appointment, you will be given a corticosteroid before and after the shot to combat any reactions or rejections."
"What about side effects?" Britt asked, and Dr. Murray nodded.
"This medicine was tailored to Santana's DNA, so side effects are unknown, but in similar studies, side effects had ranged from liver inflammation to immunity suppression, which can lead to a heightened chance of sickness."
"So a walk in the park." I said, and Britt squeezed my hand, "What? After the way this deficiency has made me nearly shit myself multiple times, I think I can handle a little cold or a swollen liver...pretty sure the drugs I've taken have worse side effects."
"Indeed. As a precaution, we will keep you here for observation for up to an hour afterward."
"I'm going to need all of that in writing for my case manager. I don't want her thinking I'm taking advantage of her letting me leave the block."
"Of course, and we will schedule out the next three shots so that you can provide that information as well."
"Great!"
"So today, I will need some bloodwork, and then we will get you scheduled."
"Great, thanks!"
"I got you some soup. Do you want to try and eat?" Q asked as I lay dying in bed a week after my shot. She was missing Thanksgiving festivities in Scarsdale with my entire family, just to play nursemaid. I had tried to send her away, but she insisted that she see me through this process.
And I was a whole brat about it. Even Snix had kept her distance while I struggled to not hurl.
"No...please, no more soup...it's nasty, Q!" I begged, my throat sore and my head throbbing.
"Okay, what about a shake?"
"Do I have to?"
"You do because I have a tray of vitamins and cold medicine for you to take."
"I don't wanna shake. That's nasty too." I whined.
"Would you rather stay like this?"
"No, I wanna feel better." I said, sniffing my nose and wiping at my watery eyes.
"Then I'm going to need you to try to swallow down this shake so you can take this medicine. You only threw up because you tried to take medicine on an empty stomach like an imbecile. So now, we are going to do things the correct way."
"Fine, know-it-all, we'll do it your way, happy?" I said, taking the can from her. I looked down at it and felt my stomach gurgle in response.
"Delighted."
I stuck my tongue out at her, "Ugh, gross." I groaned.
"I know you'd rather be having turkey, so I am having Celia bring some back, and I'll freeze it until you can normally eat again."
"Thanks."
She sat on the bed with me, with a little pill counter in her hand, waiting patiently for me to drink the shake.
After chugging it, I laid back and waited for it to make a reappearance, but it didn't...thankfully.
"Look at you, Britt would be so proud!"
"Awesome sauce. Can I have pills now?"
"You should try saying that sentence differently, just so you know."
"I'm sick, don't be mean."
She rolled her eyes as she watched me swallow one pill at a time before throwing back the shot of cough syrup like it was tequila.
"Like a champ, now, what trashy show do you want to force me to watch next?"
"We have like 20 seasons of Kardashians to get through, Q...don't you want to know how Kim and Kanye fall in love?"
"Not really."
"Tough shit, you promised you'd watch if I was good, and I was definitely good."
I curled up with Elmo and laid across her lap while she turned the tv back on.
"I could be studying for midterms." She complained.
"You are studying. There's a quiz after this season, so pay attention."
"Good Lord. I am in hell."
December
"Hey, doc." I said as I brought in a gift bag while Quinn texted on her phone behind me.
Dr. Murray looked up and smiled.
"Hi! How was your holiday?"
"Good, thankfully, this whole shindig fell after my daughter's birthday and Christmas, oh...and this is for you."
I handed her the bag, and she looked surprised.
"You didn't have to get me anything."
"I didn't; it's from Britt and the kids." I said as I sat down.
Quinn was still texting, looking super intense.
"Hey Fabray, you told Britt not to come because you wanted to be here, so can you put the damn phone down?" I snapped at her, and she looked up in surprise and then sent another message before putting her phone away.
"Sorry, hi Dr. Murray, how are you?"
"Good, I came in just for this and will be jet setting to Aruba this afternoon."
"Oh, nice! I miss my tan." I said, and Quinn snickered, just like she always did when I talked about being pale.
Dr. Murray, though, just smiled and looked down at her clipboard.
"See, San, even the doctor thinks your need to tan is nuts." Q said, and the doctor just smiled, quickly changing the subject.
"So, I see that you dropped a pound, but that's still okay considering you were sick. As a precaution, I think you should up your caloric intake this week; that way, if you do end up sick next week, losing weight won't put you so close to underweight status."
"So, eat all the desserts and shit, got it."
She nodded and then slid the first cup over to me. I downed the pill and took a sip from the water cup.
Like the first time, she was quick and efficient as she stabbed my arm.
She cleaned it up and put on a colorful band-aid before pulling my sleeve down.
Then I was swallowing another pill while she took notes.
My body felt hotter almost instantly, and the room had tipped a bit, so I closed my eyes and rested my head back on the wall.
"You okay, San?" Q asked her assholery no longer on display.
"Just taking a minute, you two talk science or something."
"Santana, if you're experiencing any symptoms, please be candid."
"Little dizzy, room tipped, and I'm hot." I balled my fists in my lap and took a deep breath, then the tingling in my cheeks started. "Need a bucket." I said, and Dr. Murray was way faster than Q had been when I was sick; she got a bucket in my hands just in time for my morning tea to make an appearance. After that, everything straightened out, and I was able to open my eyes. "There, all better."
"San, did you eat this morning?"
"Nah, I wasn't hungry, just had tea."
"But you ate last time?" Dr. Murray asked.
"Yeah, Britt made sure that I did."
"Okay, in the future, I need you to eat a meal an hour before coming in."
"Right, you got it."
"How are you feeling now?"
"I'm fine. Dizziness is gone, and so is the funhouse room."
She got up and started taking my vitals while Quinn got back on her fucking phone.
I swore to myself that was the last time I was bringing her as a plus one; I knew that she had shit going on, but fuck, I was literally falling apart, and she was texting?
Lame.
Even though I said that I was fine, Dr. Murray still made me lay down after drawing blood, and I apparently got pale.
I closed my eyes for like five seconds, I swear, but when I woke up, the lighting was different in the room, and my wife was sitting at my side playing a game on her phone.
"Hey, B." I said to her, and she smiled softly at me, leaning in to brush my hair from my face.
As I became aware of my surroundings, I realized that I was attached to an IV line.
"Hi! I came to babysit you, so Q could go to class. How are you feeling, hmm?"
"Good. How long was I asleep?"
"About three hours. They ran tests, you were pretty dehydrated, so they gave you that IV to help get you where you need to be."
"What time is it?"
She looked at her phone and then back at me. "It's four-thirty."
"The kids, who's picking them up?"
"My mom and dad are still here, remember?"
"Right. Yeah."
"And don't worry, I let your case manager know that you were still under observation at the hospital."
"Thanks. Did you come straight from work?"
"No. I told you, Frankie is in California visiting Siobhan, and August is on a cruise. No work until after the new year."
I looked at her, and the words just came slipping out before I could stop them.
"Damn, you're pretty. I want to have your babies, B."
Her eyes went wide, and then she leaned in until her face was inches from mine.
"I'd love that."
"Even with the way things are?"
"You trusted me when I was acting like a major brat. I don't know why or how you put up with me, but you did. No matter how many people told you, I would never be enough. Even when you had people throwing themselves at you, it was always me at the end of the day. How could I not give you that same kind of loyalty? You have earned my devotion for the rest of eternity."
"Wow...that's...wow."
"I know you plan to spend the rest of your life making up for all the things you blame yourself for; know that I will support you; however I can. I want you to know that I have a lot to make up for too. We aren't ready to have more kids right now; I think you need to spend a few years being sober and building up your confidence as a parent again. I need to be better about taking my medicine and being consistent as a Mama and a wife."
There was an intense look in her eyes, but she had her silly smile.
"What?" I asked, and she looked shy for a moment.
"I was picturing what a healthy and happy pregnancy would be like and how cute you'd be."
"Is that code for you fattening me up and hovering?"
"Yup, I want to give you all the things that I didn't give you during the last two. I want to go into it fully trusting you, and I want you to be able to trust yourself too."
"You sound like you've been going to therapy more." I said, and she nodded.
"I go every day. After that day when I took advantage of you, and don't say I didn't because I did," Her face looked pinched as she looked down at our linked hands. "I confessed to Frankie what I did, and she agreed that I overstepped; she said I needed someone to hold me accountable and decided it should be her so that you don't have to worry about me. Now she makes me leave an hour early to go to therapy, and I have to send her proof that I'm there. It's annoying, I feel like a kid, but you know what the accountability feels good. It feels safe. I can see why you like it."
"Are you talking about my meetings?"
"And your therapy, it works. I think we will have this chance to start fresh in LA, with so many chances to create happy memories. We have way too many sad ones in New York."
There was a knock at the door; I squeezed Britt's hand and looked towards Dr. Murray.
"Well, hey there, it's good to see you, Brittany. Thank you for the gift."
After getting another vital check, I was finally released from the hospital.
Britt had an animated conversation with my doctor before taking my hand and leading me from the room.
Her whole aura was different, assertive but not aggressive, and it was fucking attractive. I needed her to stay like this; it made me feel like I didn't have to be more than I was.
"So, I thought that if you're comfortable, I can sleep over?" B asked, looking at me with hopeful eyes.
Not since I had vowed celibacy had she slept over.
Ever since that night, when she'd overstepped, she was distant, but then after Grady, she had at least started hugging me again.
I'd missed her sleeping next to me, so when she asked, I jumped on it.
"Your parents will be okay with the kids for the night?"
"They insisted that I spend time with you...because I keep talking about L.A. and all the stuff we are going to do, they keep reminding me that we are barely together. I want to change that."
"Okay."
January
Officer Coleman showed up a few days after my wedding anniversary while I was curled up in bed with yet another cold.
"I've been in bed all week. Why are you here?" I groaned when she came into the room behind Quinn, my faithful nurse.
"I come with news. Quinn informed me that you aren't contagious; since this is time-sensitive, I decided to come to see you."
"Okay, speak." I grumbled.
"Before I do, can you give me your arm so I can change out your patch?"
I nodded, happy that I had decided to move the patches from my hip to my arm so that I could stay in bed while she checked me.
Quinn sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Officer Coleman went through the motions of checking the patch before balling it up and tossing it in the trash.
I was grateful when she used an alcohol swab to clean the gunk off my skin before applying a new patch.
When she was done, she leaned against the closet doors, with her arms crossed, glaring towards Quinn.
But she didn't get the hint.
"Q, can you give us a minute?"
"Oh, shit, yeah. I'll grab you some medicine."
"Just tea." I said, and she saluted me before pulling the door closed behind her.
I shifted onto my side and pulled the covers under my chin as a chill ran through me.
Office Coleman sighed.
"You have thirty-one days before you complete your house arrest. Gladys previously was cooperative with standing in as your guardian, but circumstances have changed."
I was growing impatient; Mami was petty because I barely had words for her.
Big whoop.
"Get on with it, please?"
"She submitted a request to the court for a change in your location."
"You've got to be kidding me? So where am I supposed to go?"
"There was a suggestion made, and the judge considered it before deciding to provide you with a choice."
"A choice?"
"You can spend your remaining time in rehab, or you can go back to your apartment. Brittany has agreed to take the kids to your house in Scarsdale if you choose the apartment."
"Why can't I go to Scarsdale?"
"You need to stay in the city."
"Of course, I do. My kids' whole life is in that building. Their school and friends are there. I'm not going to uproot them, so I guess I'll go back to rehab. What's 30 days, right?"
A giant grin appeared on Officer Coleman's face.
"If you choose rehab, your sentence will conclude on February 1st, instead of the 15th."
"So essentially, making the so-called smart choice means they shorten my sentence by two weeks?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you just lead with that?"
"I wanted you to make the decision on your own."
"And what if I insisted on doing the full 30 days?"
"Between you and me, it would knock out any argument your mother brings up about you not going above and beyond."
"Then that's what I want. Will it be the one in Long Island?"
"No, because of your ongoing treatment and your inability to leave the city, you have been mandated to the rehab facility at Presbyterian."
"Great. When do I need to be there?"
"They aren't expecting you until tomorrow morning, but I can take you now."
"Fine, can I have like thirty minutes to shower and pack a bag?"
Before we went into the hospital, Officer Coleman drove us to TriBeCa, and I called my wife.
Quinn was cradling Snix in her lap in the backseat while I put the call on speaker.
"Hey, baby, what's up?"
"Are you at the apartment?"
"Yup. The kids aren't here, so I'm cleaning."
"Where are they?"
"This time of year is Court's...the anniversary of her funeral, so my parents wanted to distract themselves. So they took the kids to Disney on Ice."
I muted myself and looked to Officer Coleman, "Can we go up?"
"That's fine, but don't linger; I'd like to have you processed by dinner time."
My head was pounding, but the medicine that Quinn gave me had me feeling more human.
"Hey, B. I'm coming upstairs."
"Uh...are you allowed to be here?"
"Officer Coleman and Quinn are with me. I just need to talk to you and drop some stuff off."
"Oh, okay, let me throw something on. I was naked cleaning." She giggled, and Quinn faked a gag.
By the time we got up to the apartment, B was fully dressed and only a little sweaty.
She kissed my lips and hugged me so tight.
I stepped into my apartment for the first time since I had found a moment to stuff Elmo full with all the blow I had.
Seeing messy finger-paintings up on the walls and toys piled neatly in the kiddie corner Britt had set up in the living room made me long for the next 30 days to be over with.
Britt watched Quinn put Snix's kennel down while Officer Coleman, looking annoyed, as she put the cat tree in an empty corner. There was disappointment in her eyes as she looked at me, and I knew what she thought.
I stepped in close and smiled at her. "Like I said, I'm just dropping some stuff off. I can't take Snix to rehab with me."
The relief on Britt's face told me everything that I needed to know. She'd wanted me to finish in rehab too, displacing the kids to avoid it was something I would have done five months before but not now.
My kids' whole lives were in one building, their school, friends, and Dama.
I wouldn't displace them so that I could be comfortable.
"I'm so proud of you, baby." She hugged me tight, and Snix hissed, "Why is she hissing at me?"
"Yeah, she's not a big fan of people touching me. Don't worry; she'll be fine once I leave."
"Are you sure?"
"Definitely, she's just territorial."
Officer Coleman cleared her throat. "Just so you know, Brittany, your wife has chosen to spend the full 30 days at rehab. The facility doesn't allow outside contact, aside from therapists and people showing up in an official capacity."
I wiped my tears, trying not to feel that for the first time in all of this, I wouldn't be able to talk to the kids every day.
Or Britt...or Quinn...or my cat.
"Are you taking your keyboard?" Britt looked worried.
"No, but I'll use my phone, and I have my journals.."
"Oh good...wait...I have something." She kissed my forehead before running from the room.
Quinn was in the fridge, rummaging and muttering to herself.
"Uh...Q...are you okay?"
She stood up suddenly, with a strip of bacon in her mouth, looking guilty.
And then I was piecing things together...the way she ate all of my food that I couldn't...the way she seemed clingy.
"Are you..." I began to ask, but then Britt was back with a picture frame; inside of it were two pictures side by side. The kids' school newest school pictures. With his curls and red glasses, Isaac was grinning wide, and Dani gave a smize as she stared down at the camera. "Wow...when did they take these?"
"Last week. I'd been holding it as a gift for when you finished house arrest, but I think you should have it now since you won't be able to talk to them." And then her eyes got sad, "I don't know if Izzy is going to be able to handle this...I hope it's not too much."
"Me too...but, if there is anyone who can take his mind off of me, it's my sister. She's back in New York since the football season is almost over. You should think about staying in Scarsdale and make sure he sees Sandra and the boys. It might really help him."
"Yeah, I think you're right."
When we got to rehab, Quinn was with me up until intake. She wanted to stress to the coordinator how important my remedy study was.
Once they pulled my records at her insistence, they decided I needed to be in a single room to not get anyone else sick.
And then they went through my stuff.
They pulled out Isaac's old Elmo and pulled him open; I cringed because of how far that little monster had come.
Five months later, I still had a fear that pulling it open would reveal the worst of what I had done. Still, there was nothing but the fresh stuffing that Q had put in there after cleaning it a billion times.
She gave me a long hug, then looked me in my eyes and nodded.
"I am. We thought it would be best to do it before med school...well, your sister did."
"But I'm moving to LA. I've already missed so much of Beth's life...this is so bogus."
"Your niece or nephew will see plenty of you, San. We have years to spend together...just go in there and kick ass. Your next shot is in 30 days, so you'll go from here to your appointment...and you'll get to grill me about everything."
"Okay. I plan to. Keep an eye out on the kids and B, okay?"
"Sure."
"And Q?"
"Yeah?"
"Happy early birthday. I hope you enjoy your gift." I gave her a wink and then went through the metal double doors with my bag over my shoulder and a little red monster tucked under my arm.
Even though I hated rehab and being psychoanalyzed, I felt relieved to be out of that house and away from a mother that was never enough.
She'd put all of this in motion and then didn't even have the balls to come out of her office when I left the house, even though I had knocked on the door.
I could hear her in there, tapping away on her keyboard, ignoring the fuck out of me.
And even though on paper that was my motherfucking house, I swallowed back my rage because there were better ways to conduct myself.
Once the FBI stopped sniffing around, and Dr. Cray received his sentence, I'd leave New York behind, and my mother was going to soon find herself, just as put out as she had made me.
But that would come with time.
I unpacked my bag and set Elmo on the bed before setting the picture frame of my kids on the nightstand.
Rehab was less scary this time around because I had spent five months in meetings, in prayer, and building the foundation for my recovery.
And then understanding washed over me...Amy had said that Mami saw something in me that I hadn't seen in myself.
But maybe it was that Mami saw herself in me.
Papi had been so insistent on having a child that she had done everything she could to give him one.
Miscarriage after miscarriage while she studied for her BAR exam.
A miscarriage while she sat for her BAR...and then, finally, it had happened while she waited for her results.
Papi had moved her from that house, and suddenly her pregnancy was healthier.
Dr. Cray had been drugging her...that was the thing that had driven me off the deep end that night.
The idea that Dr. Cray had been trying to kill my mother's children before they were even out of the womb.
And he almost killed me then, but Papi had saved me, but he'd never completely taken Mami or me out of his reach.
I knelt on the side of the bed, with my rosary, thinking through everything that had happened to me in the last few years.
He'd always been there, giving Marco, a man that was close to me, his first taste of cocaine and getting him hooked.
Putting the thought of escorting me in his head.
Everything spiderwebbed back to Dr. Cray...all because my father wouldn't help him become a fucking supervillain.
Papi had tried to beat out every bit of me that he thought would end up in Dr. Cray's clutches, but it was too late.
It was always too late.
But now, all of the chickens had come to roost.
Papi's journals, Sandra's testimony, my testimony...all the evidence, the videos, and the bank records.
There was so much shit dug up on Dr. Cray that an appeal wasn't possible.
It'd be a losing battle.
And this remedy was already starting to work...I was sick, but I wasn't craving as badly.
With Dr. Cray's notes on the deficiency released, the remedy was now strengthened by the chemical compounds that created it.
I prayed hard for my mother...who would get what was coming to her, for not protecting me better.
But like I had told B, she was still my mother...I wouldn't see her on the street, but I would never again let her get close enough to me to break my heart again.
My new life in LA with Britt would be different.
Recovery would be different now.
I'd put all of this into my music and never ever let the bastards see me sweat.
Starting over was a lonely fucking thing, but it had to be so that I could see what I was truly made of.
"Father God, I don't always understand your plans, but I'm trusting that everything will work out in the end. Please cover my family with your protection, and please hold my son extra close. I thank you for everything you're doing. Please make the way clear so that I can do what I need to do. Amen."
The door opened, an old familiar face stood there smiling at me.
"I was hoping you'd choose to go to rehab." She said.
"What are you doing here?"
"I work here now. Are you up for a chat?"
"With you, Dr. Clover, I am always up for a chat."
"Good." She sat on my desk chair as I moved to sit on the bed. I pulled Elmo into my lap and gave her a real genuine smile...even though the medicine was starting to wear off.
"Where should I start?" I asked, and she looked down at Elmo.
"Start at the beginning."
