117. Aural Xanax
AURAL XANAX
LIVY
Me: I’m in. We’ll need to discuss logistics, but we’ll make it work. Let’s get him back in fighting shape.
I set my phone down only to hear it buzz. It hasn’t been thirty seconds.
Braxton Ranger: Thank you. You won’t regret it. You’ll have everything you need.
Braxton Ranger: {contact sent}
I open the contact to see the name Emberleigh with a picture of a stunning blonde holding a precious baby. This isn’t a business contact, it’s Braxton’s personal one. That says more than he knows.
Emberleigh: Thank you!! I’ll reach out tomorrow. Can’t wait to meet you.
It’s three in the morning here. It’s an hour earlier there and both of them responded. I hope that’s because they’re excited or relieved and not because they expect me to be available at all hours.
Me: Looking forward to it. Good night.
I call Kyle up onto the bed. It’s hot out, and he prefers the floor in the summer months, but he does as I ask and curls into my side, taking the scratches I can offer within my reach.
“Well, my good boy, I did a thing. It’s something we can undo if we need, but be patient with me, okay?”
He says nothing… such a great listener.
“We’re doing the right thing. And we’ll be together. And you like Layton.”
He rolls, giving me more access, at least in his mind. In real life, he gives me different access, not more, but that’s okay. When he rolls even farther, it’s deep into my side and his breathing gets heavy, providing a gentle rhythm for me, and I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, I wake and head to the beach. I said yes to doing the right thing. I’ve agreed to uproot a life I love. My gut knows it’s the right decision, and my heart is at peace.
My brain needs to get on board. That’s made harder by the gorgeous sunshine bouncing off the rolling waves. I should’ve asked where in Texas I’ll be going. The chance that those rolling green acres are beachside is slim to none. I’ll need to find some water.
I spend a few extra minutes enjoying the waves. The sound might as well be aural Xanax.
My Zen is ruined by the sound of barking.
Kyle is alerting, and he’s not playing. I hop up and dash across the street, barely taking the time to clear for traffic.
My front door is wide open. The screen door leaves complete visibility to inside.
A man wields a knife, the glint of the blade reflecting sunlight behind me.
I hear a wail, one that tells me Kyle has been hurt, and I see red. There is no coherent thought, no strategy, only instinct.
I leap onto the back of the man as his arm rears back to slash or stab again, and I take an elbow to the eye, nearly making me lose my grip. My scream startles Kyle who I can hear whimpering and see lunging with his jaws wide open.
“Agh.” I hear from the man as I pull against his neck and tug at his hair. I may be small, but no man touches Kyle without dealing with me.
He flicks against me as if I’m a gnat, trying to shoo me away with the hand with the knife. It nicks my arms and hands. He slices his ear when he tries to slash out at me and I take that opening to do what I must. Not what I want to… what I have to.
I grab the shell of his ear where the blood blooms and make every effort to tear. It’s slippery and messy, and my hand slides in the blood, unable to get the grip to do real damage.
The assailant flails, still trying to shake me off. He rears back with the knife, aiming for Kyle, a plunge that would no doubt kill him. I scream and claw at his ear with one hand while thrashing my other at his face.
In a last-ditch effort, I extend my leg to block the blow to Kyle, take a knife to the shin in the most excruciating physical pain of my life. And I know pain.
I refuse to go limp. My cheek is swelling, and I struggle to look above it, refusing to gaze at the metal still embedded in my leg.
By the time the man whirls and flies out the door, I’m out of adrenaline and bravado. I drop to my ass, hitting my tailbone hard, rolling to my side to see Kyle. He lays now, whimpering, blood beginning to seep and tries to drag his belly to me.
“Stay, baby,” I coo as the tears fall. Stay.
I stand, yank the knife from my leg, wishing I’d never experienced this kind of pain. Not knowing anything could hurt this much. And I’ve had periods that would immobilize a man three times my size.
I grab my keys and my phone and a can of spray pain reliever. “Come, boy. Come.”
Kyle rises, limping and follows me outside and into the car. I spray antibiotic pain reliever on his wound, and he howls. “I’m sorry,” I cry. “I’m sorry, sweet boy. Stay with me, Kyle.” I can’t lose you I don’t add.
I drive with my left foot, my right leg unable or unwilling to cooperate, to the vet and dial them on my way.
“Arabel Veterinary Clinic, how may I—”
“It’s Livy. I’m bringing Kyle in. I think he was stabbed. He’s losing blood. I’ll need help. Pulling in now.”
I hang up and open my door, rushing to the back as fast as one leg will take me. Kyle doesn’t respond.
“Help me!” I scream at the top of my lungs as two people fly out the front door. “Help me, please. Save him! You have to save him.”
They shuffle me out of the way and use a portable sling thing and slide him out of the back seat as I crumple onto the scalding asphalt parking lot.
“Save him. God, please save him.”
They rush away with my therapist, lifesaver, and best friend as I sit, collapsed in a parking spot, praying my day doesn’t get worse.
I don’t know how long I lie there. Long enough that the veterinary crew comes back to check since I’m not inside.
“No allergies. Do whatever it takes. I know that means money. I don’t care. Just save him.”
“Livy?”
“I’ll be fine right here.”
“Come on.” Strong arms scoop me up and take me into the clinic, through the lobby, and into a patient room.
I sit on the chair in there sobbing, fading in and out from pain, not caring about my body or that some asshole violated the sanctity of my home.
“Livy, what happened?”
I don’t even know who I’m talking to. A woman’s voice is soothing but not unhurried.
“An intruder this morning. I need to call the cops. I’m so tired of the cops,” I add, dissolving into more tears.
“Yes. This is Ellen Livingston at Arabel Veterinary Clinic. We have a client in our office who needs an ambulance and police please.”
“Not an ambulance.” I’m not leaving.
“Paramedics and police please.” She rattles off the address.
“She has a black eye and contusions on her hands and arms. There’s a lot of blood and a stab wound.
We’re wrapping and administering ice.” There’s a considerable pause.
“She brought her dog in instead.” After another long pause, she continues. “You can ask her that question.”
“Livy, paramedics are on their way. I’ll be back with some ice.”
“Kyle?” Dread and fear war in my stomach, and I fight the urge to vomit.
“Is in great hands. He’s a fighter, just like his mama.”
The door opens and closes, and I let myself slide to the floor and curl into the fetal position. Nothing is comfortable with my face swelling, my sinuses backed from crying, and a leg that I’d saw off if it meant it hurt less.
The door opens again, and the soft voice continues, “Here’s some ice for your eye. One of the doctors will give you a shot of lidocaine. This isn’t technically legal, so if you wouldn’t mention it, that would be great.”
A hand grips my leg below the knee, and I reflexively pull back. A sharp pinprick goes deep into the muscle, and I lose the fight not to cry out.
“In a matter of minutes, that will feel better.”
The far door opens and closes as the one nearer to me opens and a flurry of activity starts.
People surround me. Two medics question me. Police officers or sheriff’s deputies stand sentry at the doorway as if I’m Usain Bolt and going to make a break for it. Don’t they know Kyle is here? I’m not leaving without him.
“What hurts?”
My heart. “My leg hurts most. Then my eye.”
“What happened?”
“An intruder. He hurt… Kyle.” My voice breaks on the last word, and my sobs begin again.
“Is Kyle your son?”
I shake my head.
“Kyle is her Dane,” a soft feminine voice pipes in from the far side of the room.
“Is that Kyle’s blood on you?”
I shrug. “Probably. Though some is probably his.”
“Whose?”
“The guy who broke in. He had a knife. Before he stabbed me—” I pull in a deep breath. “He nicked himself.”
“Multiple lacerations on her arms and hands,” a medic says above my head. “Stab wound will require stitches. May require surgery depending.”
“Ma’am, what did the intruder look like?” an officer asks.
“I never saw him.”
“You weren’t at home when he entered?”
“I came home to find him hurting Kyle.”
“What can you tell us about him?”
“Average height. Average build. Medium brown hair. Pretty obvious cut to the shell of his right ear. And, I hope, scratches across his face from me fighting him.” I pause, shifting my gaze through the sea of unknown male faces to find Ellen’s.
“Can you get an update on my boy for me? I know it’s silly, but I need to know. ”
She nods kindly. “I’ll be right back.” She slips out of the room toward my perfect boy.
“Miss Morgan,” one of the medics starts. “We’ll need to transport you. The wound on your leg requires more than stitches. You need to be seen.”
I look him square in the face and remember who I am. “May I have my phone, please?”
He looks around the room. “I don’t know where it is.”
I pat my pockets and find neither my phone nor my keys.
“Please call Dr. Silverberg.” I rattle off the number to team headquarters. “Tell him who you are and that I need help.
“Is he your…?” He leaves the word hanging.
“He’s my boss.” How alone am I that, in my worst moments, it’s my boss that I trust. The man offered me an escape, made me breakfast, and believes in me. I don’t need a surrogate dad, but if I did, Dr. Silverberg would be a great one.
An officer walks from the room, and I hear the surprise in his voice when he gets the main number to medical at the team’s facilities. He pops his head back in, gives me a once-over, and walks back out.
Ellen walks in the back door at that point. “Livy, Kyle is stable. He’s in surgery and getting fluids and a blood transfusion. Things are positive for now. It’s still early, but he’s stable.”
I sob. My shoulders shake as I sit on the cold floor inside the exam room. The relief at this moment is more than I expect. It’s not great news, but not bad news either.
The cop pops his head back in the door. “Silverberg is on his way. He says he can treat you and will recommend a surgeon if need be.”
For the first time since greeting the waves this morning, I exhale.
“Ma’am, can you think of anyone who wants to hurt you?”
Me: Long story short, I’m at the hospital. I’m okay-ish.
Bean: Ish?
Me: Don’t freak.
Bean: You’re scaring me, Liv.
Me: I surprised an intruder. I have a hairline fracture to my cheekbone and will have surgery in the morning on my leg.
Bean: What the fuck?
Bean: That’s not okay-ish. That’s… hell, the opposite of okay.
Me: You sitting down?
Bean: No. Do I need to be?
Me: Yeah.
Me: He stabbed Kyle first.
Bean: …
Bean: …
Bean: I’m afraid to ask.
Me: I wouldn’t be okay-ish if I lost my boy.
Bean: Whew. So Kyle’s okay?
Me: He’s staying overnight at the clinic. I’m so not okay with that, but I can’t help him at home so I’m trying to consider this a lucky break.
Bean: Please fucking tell me you didn’t just call Kyle overnight after a stabbing and you in the hospital pre-surgery a lucky break.
Me: You know what I mean.
Bean: I do.
Bean: Pissed is easier than scared and you scared me!
Me: It was bad, Bean. I was scared.
Bean: Do I need to head your way?
I reluctantly dial her.
“Livy, what the hell? You scared the shit out of me. Do I need to book a flight? I can be there tonight. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“I’m okay. Promise. I lost my mind earlier, though. When Kyle—” I wait for the crack in my voice to subside. “He hurt Kyle,” I whisper, allowing the fear to come back and cling to me. “Sabine, I was so scared. I went all mama bear.”
“Rightfully so. I can’t imagine that sweet baby anything other than his bouncy, goofy self.”
“I never want to see him the way I did today.”
“I know you must’ve been… it doesn’t matter. He’s okay. He’s going to be okay. And you are too. Wait! Why are you having surgery on your leg?”
“I made sure he didn’t stab Kyle a second time.”
“You what?”
“I stopped a second hit.”
“Olivia! You are lucky you are halfway across the country, or I’d come out of my skin. I love that dude. He’s amazing and precious and perfect. And he’s all yours, and I want him to live forever. But are you fucking telling me you took a knife?”
“And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. He’s mine, and you darn well know I won’t let anything harm him if I can help it!”
“I can’t say you don’t love with your whole heart. That’s for sure.”
“That’s right.”
“And Kyle can go home tomorrow?”
“He better. We can recuperate together.” I pause, voicing one of my fears aloud, “But I hate to admit this. If he needs help, I can’t assist him. If he hadn’t listened and gotten in the car today, I’d have…” I don’t finish the thought.
I love my boy. His size isn’t an issue to me. It never has been. But if something ever happens, I won’t be able to help him. I’ll lose him. I might be strong, but I won’t be strong enough.
“Don’t think about that. Think about getting better. You’ll be back on the beach and back on the sidelines in no time.”
“Yeah, about that...”
“What about that?”
“You still sitting down?”
“Yes. Do I also need liquor?”
“Come to think of it, I could use some.”
“What the hell, Livy? I’m… Wait.” I hear her drag in several deep breaths. “Okay. Hit me.”
“I haven’t told anyone at work yet, but I’m going to request a leave of absence. If they don’t grant it, I’m going to resign.”
“Help me out here. You landed your dream job. You have a fucking endorsement contract because of it. What could have gone so wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I love my job. Nothing happened to change that. But I got a phone call the other day with an opportunity I just can’t seem to walk away from.”
“Was this from a billionaire who needs someone to teach yoga on his yacht while he tours the world?”
“Does that exist? I’d apply for that.”
“Shut up. You know what I mean.”
“I do. This is a smaller scale. It’s a private patient who needs full-time PT, yoga, potentially some nutrition coaching. No yacht. No world tour. But there will be horses, and Kyle gets to come along. We both need to be well, though.”
“Come along? As in, it’s not near Arabel Beach?”
“Yeah. In less than a week, I’ll be in… wait for it… Texas.”