5. Chapter Five
Chapter five
Present day…
B anging on my front door wakes me from a late morning slumber. Okay, it’s well past noon, but I can’t find it in me to care. I was up late last night doom-scrolling every social media outlet I could find until I fell asleep. Sleep. The elusive creature seems to enjoy keeping me up all hours of the night, only to pounce just before dawn. The cycle repeats until I crash for days at a time.
I groan and throw the covers back. If it’s another kid trying to sell me chocolate, popcorn, or cookies I’ll scream. Although the last box I bought was pretty good. Another pounding followed by my brother’s voice annoys me more than unsolicited sugar suppliers. At least they leave after I throw money at them.
“Tulip, answer the door,” Jackson says, his tone similar to our father’s. Well, I’m grown and he can’t tell me what to do.
I shuffle down the hallway until I reach the door, pause to consider whether I feel like dealing with him, then decide it’s probably best to get it over with or he won’t go away. As I open the door, I glance around my home. It’s disgusting, to put it mildly. Every chore seems more daunting than the last, and they pile up while I try to accommodate for the lack of feeling in my hand. Sometimes it’s easier to ignore the issue and hope it goes away rather than suffer through the pain and frustration of working through it.
“What is that smell?” Jackson asks and covers his nose when I open the door wide. “Are you cooking something?”
“Very funny. It’s the trash. I emptied out the fridge yesterday and forgot to take the bag out. What do you want, Jax?” I put my hand on my hip and lean on the door, hoping to convey that I do not want visitors right now.
My brother looks me over, top to bottom, blinks a few times, and peers over my shoulder. “Uh, we haven’t heard from you in almost a week, Tulip. Mom and Dad are worried, Deni thinks you forgot your weekly coffee date with her, and…for the love of all that’s holy, sis, your house is an abomination. What is going on?”
“It’s my house. What’s it to you?”
“Tulip, it’s disgusting.”
With a heavy sigh, I wave over the living room and try to ignore that he’s completely right. “So I need to declutter a bit. I’ll get to it. I’m supposed to be recovering , remember?” I step back and let him in, though he seems to be seriously reconsidering entering what he has deemed an abomination. From the curl of his lip, I think he’s one pile of clothing or dishes away from having my place condemned.
He enters and peeks into the kitchen before grumbling something to himself. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come back here. You can’t do anything, can you? It hurts too much, things are getting out of control, and as usual, you don’t want to ask for help.”
“I’m fine. I can’t live with our parents forever. I’ll hire a maid and—”
“A maid? A maid? Tulip, you look like you haven’t showered in a week! It’s going to take a decontamination team to clean up this house!” His screeching is like nails on a chalkboard. “You don’t have to go back to Mom and Dad’s, but you really should come stay with Deni and me for a while.”
It’s not a suggestion. His tone indicates he’s willing to throw me over his shoulder and haul me to his house, where my sister-in-law—whom I dearly love—will dote over me until I no longer enjoy being in her presence. I want to be left alone. In peace. Quiet. Where I can wallow in self-pity and drain my savings account since I don’t have a job, will never perform surgery again, and have no clue what else I might be good at.
“The last thing I need is more pity. So I’ve been a little slow getting to things. It doesn’t matter.” I shrug it off and look around again, noting the stacks of pizza boxes in the corner. I probably do need to clean. It’s the sort of gross that grows mold. The super toxic kind that kills people.
Jackson groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry the tests didn’t come back with positive news, but it’s not like you can’t practice medicine at all. You can still be a doctor. You’ll just have to find another field that you’re passionate about and things will work out.”
“Yeah? How would you feel if you could no longer practice…What is it again? Patent law? How stimulating.” I’m jabbing now, but if he’s going to come to my home and judge me, then he gets what he gets. Right now, it’s a big sister on the verge of turning into a feral cat if he curls that lip one more time.
“I’d find some other sort of law to practice and move on. It’s a career, Tulip, not your whole life. Speaking of which, you haven’t been to church since you left Mom and Dad’s. Pastor Scott has asked about you and said you’ve declined help from everyone who has offered to bring you meals.”
“Good golly, what is this? Whisper down the lane how horrible Tulip is? Can’t a woman have an accident that changes her entire life then get a few months of time to adjust? For crying out loud, just go home and leave me alone!”
“Tulip, I’m only trying to—”
I wave my hands around to interrupt him. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to take control of the situation, dictate my life to me, and make everything better. Well, news flash, little bro. You can’t make this better, I don’t want your help, and I don’t care what the people at church think. I’ll be back when I’m back.” I cross my arms with an indignant huff, knowing I’m behaving a little out of line. Our church family means well, no doubt, and I shouldn’t toss them into my giant ball of frustration…the collective ball that everyone I know and love has created because they cannot understand I want to be left alone to mourn. To get over it. To…who knows.
“That’s not fair. I love you, and I hate seeing you this way. If you won’t take my suggestions, then tell me what else I can do? Can I help you clean? Give you a fresh start so your mind can reset in a clean space? Maybe Deni can make you a few meals to freeze and reheat rather than you throwing your health away on junky pizza every day.” He practically winces at the very idea he might have to touch those moldy pizza boxes.
“Absolutely not.”
“Then what? Name it, and I’ll do it. I want my sister back.”
I groan. Now we seem to be on to guilting me into getting over it. “Nothing. In fact, don’t bother me again until I call you, okay?”
“Tul—”
“I mean it, Jackson. My life is over, and all you can think about is how I need to get over it to make you more comfortable. Well, I can’t. It would have been better if I had died in that accident. I wish I had, then I wouldn’t be reminded every single day that the one thing I was good at was taken away. The only dream I ever had, poof, gone.”
Jackson’s eyes go wide and his jaw falls open. “You don’t mean that. You can’t possibly think it would have been better to die than to have to rethink your life a little.”
A beast rumbles to life inside of me. “A little? A little? I still have student loans to pay, and contrary to what you think, I can’t just hop over to another type of medicine. I’d have to go back to school, specialize, start at the bottom again. You don’t know anything, Jackson, so please, go home to your perfect life and leave me alone.”
Seething, I practically shove my brother out the door with what little energy I have. I can’t see anything straight at the moment, including the fact that I have scared him half to death. With so much pain and disappointment in my life now, I’m not even sure I know what I said, not fully. It felt right in the moment, but now all I want to do is go back to bed and sleep until next month.
Jackson says nothing more but lets me push him out and slam the door behind him. I lock it tight and lean against the back of it.
I said I’d rather I had died.
“Oh, my gosh. What am I doing?” I slide down the door until I’m in a heap on the floor, sobbing my eyes out. God knows I’m acting like a brat, carelessly throwing out the words that cut my brother to the core. Disrespecting my life in such a way is sinful, and I know it, but I can’t stop being angry. Can’t stop wondering if it would have been better.
What if I had died? I could have.
Mom and Dad would be beyond themselves, distraught in so many ways. Jackson and Deni would be too. I never should have said that to Jackson. I do still have a lot to live for, but it’s so hard to see that right now. All I can do is muster enough strength to drag myself back to bed, willing my body to just work already. Just feel.
But I can’t. I’ll never have proper feeling in my hand again, and that’s enough to change my life forever. A life I had all figured out. At least, I thought I had. But with so many failed relationships and an aching, empty hole in my heart, I can’t help thinking maybe I didn’t. Maybe Jackson is right. I should get up, shower, clean up my mess, and try to figure my life out.
Tomorrow.
I’ll do it tomorrow. Right now, I’ll fall into my misery and sleep until I can’t sleep anymore.