Callie POV
Duke's was panting loudly in a rhythmical beat. His tongue was hanging out. He was sleeping on the ground in the middle of my room. At the moment, he was on his back, paws up, contorted in a weird angle, yet he seemed comfortable and was asleep.
I was laying on my bed, playing with my pain bottle. Passing time. Turning and spinning it around in all angles between my fingers.
I had already taken the first pill this morning, when I first woke up. Which, I believe was some hour or maybe even two hours back. The relief that usually comes from the medication seemed to be taking longer to kick in. My body must be starting to slowly build tolerance to the drug. It meant that I will have to take more for me to stop the pain.
For 10 days now, I have been taking more pain medication that I was originally prescribed. The bottle was becoming lighter and more emptier every day. It was happening too fast.
I stopped turning the bottle around in my hand, held it up and looked at the content in the light. Jiggled it a bit, to get the level more even. By the looks of it, it was in half.
That realization was enough to get me worried. I had no idea what I will do once I am through with this bottle or what was going to be my excuse as to why it was over so fast. I doubt I will be able to go days, if not weeks, without the pain medication. My life is highly dependent on that stuff, I can't start my day without it.
I don't have an appointment with the doctor for another 2 weeks, when I need to go in for my first check up. If I say that I'm almost done with the pills, he will know that I have been misusing the medication. Most likely scenario, he will prescribe something that doesn't contain opium. What am I going to do then? I needed a plan, though, at the moment I was coming up blank.
If I keep taking the increased dosage, someone is bound to notice something t home as well. No one in this house is that blind or stupid. It was a question of when, not if. They all keep close eye on me. All the time. At the moment, I was looking mostly at Cooper as I had heard a snippet of conversation he had with mom, when they thought I was napping the other day.
He had expresses some concern about me, not directly about me overusing drugs, but just general worry that something is wrong. Saying that there's something off with me. Cooper could not provide any actual reasons, he kept writing it off as a gut feeling. Mom had thankfully shut him down. She did not share the worry with him. Not yet at least.
Mom usually reads me like an open and is the first one that notices that something is off. The fact that she hasn't picked up on anything is strange, but works in my favor this time. It's quite possible Cooper was right the other day, when I heard him say to mom that she was too close, too involved too see it or that she is choosing to ignore it, because it would then all be too much.
If Cooper manages to convince her that something is wrong with me, I'm done, so to say.
I set the pain bottle on the nightstand, when I heard someone walking up the stairs. It was more like a slow jog up the stairs than walking. Footsteps were light, didn't make too much noise. No slippers or shoes on. It was mom.
Coopers footsteps are much more heavier and louder, and no jogging up the stairs. Grandpa always walks in his slippers, he also always stops at the top of the stairs and exhales deeply. Grandma is much more slower walking up and she too wears slippers.
At the sound of two soft knocks on the door, Duke twisted and turned like a lightning bolt and was now sitting up, watching the doors. His tail started to wiggle even before the doors opened and mom walked inside.
"Morning, love," Mom said in hushed voice "I was just coming to wake you."
"No need. I'm up," I said while looking at her from still laying down position
"Did you sleep alright?" she walked up to the bed and kneeled down to it, forearms pressed to the bed.
"Not really," I said honestly
I wanted to be as honest and truthful as I could with mom. If I was being an open book about my everything else - recovery, struggles, my nightmares, issues I face daily - mom will have no reason to think there is something off. That way, it's much more easier for me to hide the drug problem. It's the only way I can keep control over things.
Mom reached out, her fingers brushing softly against my forehead. She tilted her head a little to one side, preparing to listen closely. Her eyes were set on mine.
"Nightmares?"
I closed my eyes briefly and admitted "Mm-hmm, the same one."
For the past few nights I have been kind of restless. The dreams I am having, they probably classify as nightmare, are not helping the cause. When I wake up in the middle of the night, I find myself scared of the silence around me. I'm afraid that I have lost my hearing again. So I shift in the bed or reach out to nightstand or wall and tap on it, clear my throat or fake a cough, just to make sure I can hear. Another thing I have noticed that I have been sweating more than I usually did around the same temperature. Like, it's not that hot anymore in the night, yet when I woke up I was drenched in sweat. My shirt is still damp from it. And it's not just during night, I sweat more during day as well.
Mom nodded, acknowledging what I said. She smiled sadly at me. I knew that look. Recognized it instantly. She wanted to take my pain away.
Sighing, knowing she can't do anything about it now, mom reached out to touch my shirt, feeling it. It was damp. The armpits, chest and back of the shirt had darker patches on.
"We should probably get you out of this. Also, shower." Mom said. Like on cue, Duke barked, as if agreeing with mom about the shower part. "We should wash your hair as well. It's been a few days."
No arguing about that, because I knew I needed a shower. And wanted one as well.
I got up to sitting position. Added a fake wince and a grunt, to sell mom that I still haven't taken the medication.
"Can you-" I reached weakly towards the glass of water and pain bottle. Amy reacted quickly, got one pill and handed me the glass. I washed the medication down, mom then took the empty glass away from me.
I found myself feeling less guilty about lying to mom than I did the first day. With each passing day it became easier. Just like my body was building tolerance to the pain medication, my conscience was building up tolerance about lying to mom.
"Go ahead, I will grab the clean clothes for you and join you shortly," Mom said as I got out of the bed
Taking a shower was a whole new experience. It was a full on process. Countless steps needed to be taken, mainly because of my burns. Despite all the trouble and time it took, it was still better than having a sponge bath given by nurse in hospital.
I still was not mobile to take a shower on my own. Wet feet and tiles are not a good match. One wrong step and I'm on ground. There are areas that I can't quite reach on my own. Washing hair with one arm is pretty hard as well. I can raise it up and wash for few seconds, but then I simply get tired. It feels like all the blood has flown out of my arm and it starts to feel numb and it tingle. So, yeah, mom was helping me with shower.
I was way past being awkward and embarrassed and self-conscious about mom seeing me naked. It hasn't even come across my mind as being something I should worry about. I know that I can't do it alone and that I need help. This could have been a big deal few years ago, and it kind of was, but it certainly not anymore. I felt safe and comfortable with her. Besides, she was my mom. It's not a big deal unless someone makes it a big deal. I have someone who I can ask for help and I do.
All the dressing were already placed at the top of the washing machine, when I entered. After peeing, I went to sit on the closed toilet and started to take off my PJ pants. It was the easier clothing to get on and off. Shirts were a lot harder.
One of my foot was out, when mom walked in with a pile of clean clothes in her hands. She set them down and then came over to help me undress.
I sat watching and waiting for mom. After she put the dirty clothes in the laundry basket, mom went to wash her hands. More like scrub clean, actually. She even did the few moves that doctors do in medical shows, before going in surgery.
My old dressings needed to be removed first, before I can take a shower. Mom was unwinding the bandages slowly. Once she got to the actual gauze that was covering the burns, she always glanced to me and took a slow and steady breath before reaching for the corner to take it off. There was always a small section, a tiny part that was stuck. If she pulled it off, like a bandage, it could do even more damage to the already damaged skin. She depend a lot on my reactions. Holding breath or a quick intake of air was a big sign that – yeah, that part of bandage is stuck. Using water to wet the gauze helps, as it eases the removal.
Once the old bandages were off and thrown out, mom washed her hands again, while I took my time to examine the damaged skin. I don't see it myself, but mom is certain it's healing nicely.
As I was looking at my hand, I noticed that my right palm was shaking, ever so slightly. If it had been my left hand, I would understand the reason for it. But my right? I pulled my hand quickly in a fist to hide it, when mom turned off the faucet and turned to me, while drying her hands.
The water temperature was the next step. It couldn't be too hot as it could injury the healing skin. Too cold, well, no one can wash hair in too cold water. I did not want to get a cold on top of everything else. Sneezing and coughing would be like kicking a man while he's down. Mom always tested the water on her hand first, then made sure that I checked it out myself.
The shower chair that we got for mom, when she was shot, came to use once again.
Hair was being washed first. I was sat on the chair, my head slightly leaned back, while mom was washing it. It reminded me a little bit of when my hair is being washed by hairdresser. She was being extra careful around the hairline as there was my head injury. Moms fingers were softly massaging my scalp in circular motion. It felt great, shampoo smelled nice, the water was lukewarm. Somehow mom managed to protect my eyes as no shampoo ever got into them.
I washed my non-burned body as much as I could by myself using a washcloth. Mom did my back and some of the legs as I couldn't quite reach those parts. Private parts needed to be washed last.
A second washcloth was used to wash the damaged skin. Mom was being extra gentle around those areas. All the creams needed to be cleaned off. Some very light bleeding was okay. Amy constantly looked to me, to see my reaction, to know if she's being too gentle or too hard. Often she winced herself, thinking she hurt me, while in fact she hadn't.
"Ouch...sorry, sorry!" Mom pulled her hand back, when some light bleeding started on the burn on my leg and looked up to me apologetically
"It's okay...it doesn't hurt." I quickly assured her
"Are you sure?" Mom watched me closely, her eyes telling me she had been scared for a moment
"Yes, it's okay. You can continue," I smiled at her
"Those pain medication really do miracles, huh?" she sounded relieved. If only she knew.
"Mm-hmm," I hummed back. I was glad that she was no longer looking at me, otherwise she would see the guilt in my eyes.
Once the burned areas were cleaned off, I rinsed off. For drying off I was using two towels. One for not burned skin, other for burned skin.
Then mom needed to apply the healing cream and do the dressings. She tried to do them as fast as she could, because she didn't want me to get cold, but at the same time, she was making sure everything was done properly and thorough. She always started with the burn on leg, so that I could get my underwear on first. The burn on torso was next, leaving the arm to be bandaged last.
I got dressed after that. New loose light grey sweat pants that mom had specifically brought me and a simple black t-shirt. No bra, because the side wing would press on the top of my burn on my torso. My ribs and overall bruised body also enjoyed the freedom and nothing pressing and constricting my body.
When I was finally dressed mom grabbed the hairdryer. 5 more minutes and I was done with the shower.
I felt a lot better afterwards. Fresh. It gave me small energy boost starting the day. I was super excited about today.
"There!" Mom turned off the hairdryer and set it aside "You are ready for the party!"
I can't recall the last time I was this excited about going to Adams Fosters for BBQ.
Over the years there have been countless of these events. Some have become infamous – like the time Jesus, Frankie, Jude and I got arrested – and it was something that I will remember forever. It was one of my fondest memories, despite the fact that mom grounded me for months and took away my license and gave the lecture of the century. The thing with these BBQ, is that no one can tell how they will turn out. That's the beauty of them. The fact that everyone is going to be there is like a cherry on top.
Today, going to the BBQ seemed like a much bigger deal. It was my first real outting since the bombing. The first day, I get to spend few hours out of the house, not doing physical or any other therapy. I get to be normal again. It was like I was returning to society.
Linda and Harold will join as well. We decided to drive in two cars. Mom drove me and grandma in her car, while Cooper drove with Harold and Duke.
Mom pulled up to the Adams Foster house first, Cooper stopped behind a minute later. Duke was the first one out of the car. He took one sniff of the air and ran around the house, heading to backyard. Yes, the steaks were already getting grilled.
Frankie was the first Adams Foster we saw. She got out of the house, leaving the front doors wide open, jumped down the stairs and ran across the front lawn. From there she stood and watched with great interest how I slowly got out of the car. She didn't take her eyes off me for a solid minute at least.
"Do I really look that bad?" I asked her closing the doors behind me, when she still hadn't said a single word to me.
All she did was shook her head, then turned on her heel and ran back to house calling out so that the whole neighborhood could hear "Mom! Mama! Callie's here!"
"That was strange, right?" I glanced to mom, then to grandma
Mom walked up to me, her eyes on the house where the little girl had ran off to "Yes, a little."
Lena was the one that greeted us, when we reached the house. She leaned in and kissed both of my cheeks "It's so nice to see you."
"Amy has been keeping you in the dungeon, all to herself," I heard Jesus, before I saw him walk down the stairs. His hair was still wet as if he just had gotten out of a shower.
"Yes, I don't want to share her. I found her first, go find your own!" Mom joked back, while running soft circles on my upper back
"Ditched the wheelchair, I see," Jesus kissed my cheek as well "We could have taken it for a spin at the skate park!" Jesus said with a mischief look in his eyes
"Wheelchair?" I frowned, not sure what he was talking about. My question worked like an instant party pooper. The smiles on Jesus and Lena's faces faded and were replaced with worried frowns. I saw the look that was passed between Jesus, Lena and Amy.
I looked to mom for an answer, avoiding the looks of Jesus and Lena.
"Uh, remember when you were in hospital, the first few days, when you couldn't really walk?" I nodded back "You sat in this special chair that had wheels on. I pushed you around-"
After moms explanation - the word came back to me slowly. An image of the object came to mind and I connected it to the memory mom told me about just now.
"Oh," I sighed quietly and looked down, avoiding their eyes "Yeah...sorry. Slipped my mind for a second." In moments like these I wanted to hide like ostrich does in cartoons by burying their heads in sand.
"Don't apologize. Its okay. Don't worry about it, love." Mom whispered to me as she continued to run soothing circles over my back.
"Cooper, Harold...would either one of you would be so kind to help Brandon by the grill?" Lena asked, changing the subject and filling the brief silence that had fallen upon us
"I would be happy to help," Harold said raising his arm up a little, like you do in school when teacher is asking for answer
"Thank you!"
"Straight through there?" Harold asked, pointing down the hallway
"I'm going to show you," Cooper said and they both walked out, before Lena could
"Before I forget, I just wanted to give you a little heads up-" Lena clasped her hands together "Our parents are visiting as well, so now that you have arrived, it' s officially a full house!"
"I was told there would be wine here," Linda said, taking a quick glance Amy's direction, suggesting it was her who had told her that
"We always have wine!" Stef announced, beaming at us, as she appeared in the hallway coming out of the kitchen
"Oh, there is!" Lena added with a small, mischief smirk that reached her eyes at the same time Lena warned us, before reaching out to Linda "If you would follow me, I can get you that wine. Red or white?"
"I prefer white," Linda walked off with Lena
"Where's Jude?" I asked looking around
"Shower," Jesus pointed up, I followed his finger and looked up to the ceiling. Now that he said it, I believe I heard the water running from upstairs "Last one to get up, last one to get into shower," Jesus snickered to himself "I used the last of the hot water."
"Don't just stand here, like this is your first time here!" Stef waved at us to follow her "The party is out back!"
Mom and I glanced to each other and smiled, before we both made our way through the hallway to the backyard.