A week after the exercise I did with Dr. Hastings, I try to decide I want to get better, but it's not that simple. It's not that I haven't been trying, I just feel like maybe I can try harder. I want to get better for myself, but I lack the motivation and desire. So, I have to do it for my moms, my family. I sit up and look out the window, I would give my right arm just to go for a walk, but my leg is still in a lot of pain. I look down at the scars that are forming underneath my hospital gown.
"That's a pretty cool scar," A voice comes from the doorway. "I have one too," The voice approaches me. Then in front of me sits my nurse, she rolls up the leg of her scrubs. "Shark bite," She says, "I'm kidding, I fell off my bike when I was a kid. But that's the thing about scars, they can mean whatever we want them to. They're there forever, chapters in our lives." She looks down at the scars that used to be confined to only my arms. "Your story's pretty long." She stares at my blemished skin, but not in a judgmental way. "Nothing to say? You've been talking a lot more if it is only a couple of words here and there." She shifts in her seat. "You know, most books have a prologue."
"You think, my life so far is a prologue?" That's probably the most words I've used at once in my time here.
"I'm just a nurse." She throws her hands up in defense. "Pills, now." She watches me like a hawk as I swallow each capsule one by one and wash them down with water. She has to check my mouth and make sure I've swallowed them. They like to think that they trust the patients here just because they don't lock doors and we don't do chores, but I don't feel trusted. "Your mom is here." She says as she leaves.
I try to figure out what she meant about my scars, as I look down at the faded scars on my arms, I start to figure it out. There's a long scar on the inside of my left arm, going right from my wrist all the way up to my elbow. My first attempt, but I don't even think about that anymore. None of the things that caused these scars have an affect me anymore, all those times I used to cut myself are in the past. But the newer scars, they have had and still do have an impact on me. What she meant is that the things in my past don't matter now, and someday, everything that's happening right now will be in the past too. Maybe she is right, maybe my life is some kind of prologue in the story of my life, and I do have a future away from all the crap. Maybe I'll be happy.
Mom knocks on the door, "How are you?"
"Okay." She wasn't expecting me to answer.
"Oh, honey," She sits next to me and puts her arm around me, I rest my head on her shoulder and I allow myself to cry. "I'm here now." It feels almost euphoric, just letting myself cry and finally process everything. "Mama couldn't make it today, she had to work. But she sends her love, all the kids do. We want you home."
"I want to come home too," I say quietly.
"But not like this, okay? You'll get better here and then we can take you home." I nod. Her thumb strokes my cheek and the feeling doesn't scare me anymore, it protects me.
"I'm getting there."
"I know, I know." She holds me closer and cries along with me. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I need you... I need you to thank Jesus for me... for what he did for me." Images flash of him leaping into action to save me.
"Why don't you tell him yourself?" I look up at her in confusion, then she looks out at the door. They're all here. I burst into tears, Jesus runs to me and hugs me.
"Thank you, if you hadn't stopped her, I might not still be here." I wail.
"Don't talk like that," He says.
"You could have taken her," Jude says, I hug him too.
"Don't crowd her kids," Mom says.
"It's okay." I hug everyone and they all sit down around my room. They look at me in uncertainty, like I may burst into flames any minute. I know it's just because they're worried.
They catch me up on the last few weeks, what they've been up to. Callie went to Spain with the Quinn's, she tried to act like it wasn't that good, but I know she's just trying to make sure I don't feel left out. It's a sweet thought. Mariana's getting a lot of work done on the robot, Jesus is wrestling on weekends, Jude's with Noah all the time and Brandon has moved back in.
"You don't mind, do you? I mean, I just felt like I needed to be at home, you know? But we're getting another bed, so no one will have to sleep in the cot anymore."
"It's fine. I'm glad you're back."
"Freddie's been over a few times, asking about you," Mom says. "He's uh, he's been taken into foster care."
"What?" I have to stay calm.
"His grandmother died last night." My heart aches for him. "He's still trying to get emancipated but he's broke, he's not even written into her will. I think he's alright, though, he's in emergency care, living with a few other boys. I've checked in on him a few times." It's not fair, the best of people are always dealt the worst hand.
"Thank you, mom."
"Okay Fosters clan, say goodbye to your sister, she's got an appointment with Dr. Hastings," The nurse says.
