Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
TATUM
Mae
First week of classes—done.
Me
I can’t wait to hear all about it.
Mae
Call me when you get all checked out?
Me
Yes, pretty girl.
Smiling down at my phone as I send the last text, I shove it into my pocket before looking around to make sure I have everything I need.
I’ll be happy if I never have to see a hospital bed or wear a scratchy hospital gown again.
It feels so good to wear my clothes after a week in that awful piece of fabric.
The bed sheets were made of the same material, which felt like stiff, scratchy, thin—
A knock on the door interrupts my internal rambling, making me turn my head to see Dr. Hammond standing in the doorway of my hospital room.
“I’m sure you’re ready to get out of here, huh?” he asks, stepping into the room with a clipboard in his hands.
I sigh. “You have no idea.”
He nods as he approaches me, extending the clipboard out toward me as he does. “Here’s your discharge paperwork. Just fill these out and you’re all set. As you already know, you come back in on Thursday for a checkup, and stick around in case there are any complications.”
Don’t remind me.
“And you’ll be sent home with some pain medicine in case you feel any soreness or unmanageable pain.”
Scanning over the papers, I try to pretend I’m looking over them in a more normal way, even though the moment my eyes fall on them, they’re etched into my brain.
I’ve done this for as long as I can remember because I’d rather pretend than feel like I need to explain to everyone that I have photographic memory. I don’t have to explain, but still.
“And…” Dr. Hammond continues, swallowing thickly as he takes the clipboard from me when I finish. “Your mother has been asking for you. I know it’s not my place to tell you what to do, of course, but I thought you should know.”
A sigh rattles through my chest.
I knew this was coming.
Even though a few of the nurses had already mentioned it to me, I knew it would still be brought up before I got to escape today. I knew she’d want to see me, but I can’t find it in me to care about what she wants. Maybe years ago, I might’ve, but now?
The care that I had shrivelled up and died a long time ago.
But even still, I ask, “How did her surgery go?”
“It went smoothly. She’s got another week left in the hospital, but it’s going to be a long recovery process. She’ll be on medication for the rest of her life.”
My first thought is she’ll never be able to make it through life like that.
She’ll go and ruin her liver again, she’ll be too high to remember to take her medication, and she’ll be killing herself all over again.
That’s my first initial thought to his words, and no matter how much I try to believe she could be different now, that she could get better, the bad outweighs it all.
The memories that are imprinted in my brain forever.
Those don’t just go away, even if she were to be completely sober and try to make amends.
I don’t want her amends.
“Alcoholism is brutal,” Dr. Hammond says quietly, “and it can get better, but without a support system? She’ll be back in here within the next six months.”
Lifting my head a fraction, I give him a weary look. “If only that was the only thing we were dealing with here.”
Dr. Hammond presses his lips into a thin line, nodding his head in understanding.
“If this doesn’t kill her, the drugs will,” I mutter, scratching the back of my neck and clearing my throat. “I appreciate you telling me, and I appreciate your concern. Tell her I said that I wish her the best, but I just…can’t.”
He nods to me again, but this time, he sends me a friendly smile. “I’ll see you on Thursday, Tatum.”
“Yeah, see you,” I say. “Thank you, Dr. Hammond.”
My brain is static when I get officially discharged at the check-out desk in the hallway outside of my used-to-be hospital room.
I’m going through the automated motions as the woman sitting at the computer behind the desk hands me some paperwork and my pain medicine prescription: smiling, nodding, and muttering thank yous.
I’m on autopilot as I make my way to the elevators to go down to the main lobby, the busy noise around me sounding like a soft hum as I focus on getting out of here.
My legs don’t stop moving until I’m stepping out of the front entrance into the cold rain that falls from the grey sky, the same old weather it’s always been in Seattle.
It isn’t until I’m sitting in the cab of my truck that I pull my phone back out, my features melting into a warm smile when I see Maeve’s text.
Mae
Pretty girl? Pretty girl??? Say it again.
I go into her contact from the message and press call, bringing the phone up to my ear and listening to the ringing on the other end. Any anxiety that I have melts away the moment her soft voice sounds in my ear.
“Hello?”
My girl.
“One week until I’m heading home to you.”