Chapter 15
brEAK THE brOKEN
Winter
I don’t return to the waiting room. I can’t face my dad now.
Maybe not ever. Not when I’m sure he caused the fall.
Instead, BJ and I wait in a room down the hall, close to the nurses’ station.
His parents show up an hour later, dressed like they’ve been on a date.
BJ’s mom is a petite woman with a dark brown, nearly black bob and a warm smile.
BJ fills her in while Coach Ballistic takes me to update the medical information.
“We have a family fund with the Hockey Academy that will cover the deductible and we can help you with any other forms for supplemental insurance, okay? We’ll get you through this,” he assures me.
I hold onto the hope that he’s right and that the Hockey Academy really can help, otherwise we’ll end up back in the trailer. I don’t want to think about what else that means.
It’s one in the morning by the time my mom is out of surgery.
The doctor tells us she made it through just fine, but that she likely won’t come out of sedation until morning.
There are pins and plates in her right arm and left leg.
She also has stitches in the back of her head and a concussion.
That part scares me. Concussions are serious.
They can change a person. My dad has had two.
One was a forklift accident at work, and the other was a fall at the trailer park.
He’d been drinking, as usual, so it’s anyone’s guess what happened.
He was treated for the first concussion, but not the second. And it seemed to make him meaner.
I wait until my dad leaves before I go in to see her.
Even though I was warned, I’m not prepared for the sight of my mother lying in the hospital bed.
Terror and guilt crowd for position with simmering anger.
Her right arm is casted to her shoulder.
Her left leg is in traction, casted past her knee.
She’s surrounded by medical equipment, beeping and monitoring her heart rate.
As I stare at her broken body, I can see what happened playing out—my dad cornering her like I did him, doing what he does best: intimidate, manipulate, insult, degrade.
The worst is when he’s quiet with his anger, when he gets in close and whispers horrible, hurtful things—the kind of things that make Mom cry and me seethe.
If this was an accident, it was an orchestrated one.
All he needed to do was trap her against the railing.
She’d have nowhere to go, a captive to his anger and spiteful words. Gravity did the rest.
“What if she’s not okay?”
“The doctor thinks she’ll make a full recovery, but it’ll be slow,” BJ’s mom, Lily, says softly.
I always worried it would come to this. That one day I wouldn’t be there to stop him. Now that it’s happened, all I feel is overwhelming sadness. I couldn’t be the hand that pulled her out of the darkness. I couldn’t save her from him.
Every good thing is slipping through my fingers. And in its place is whatever comes of this.
“I can’t go home. I can’t go back to that.” Panic hits me, along with stabbing blades of guilt that I can even think of myself when my mother is lying here broken, when I’ve failed her so completely.
But I don’t want this to be my future too.
I can’t walk this path.
I won’t.
I’ll go to the trailer. Stay at the shelter. But I won’t live under the same roof as my dad. Not after this.
“You can stay with us until we get this figured out,” BJ’s mom says.
“What?” I wonder what BJ said to her while Coach and I were at reception so he could take down our insurance information.
“We have a spare bedroom. It’s yours for as long as you need it.” Her smile is warm and full of empathy.
BJ hooks his pinkie with mine.
I worry about the ripple effect. How this will impact what comes next. How it will change this thing with BJ. How hard it will be to keep my feelings for him locked down if we’re living under the same roof. How nice it will be to have a break from the emotional warfare.
It’s nearly three in the morning when we get back to the Ballistics’. I’m exhausted but on edge. Lily follows me and BJ upstairs, and she sets me up in the room across from his. Like every other part of their house, it’s pretty and clean.
She turns to BJ, who stands just outside the door, one hand tucked into his jeans pocket, the other kneading the back of his neck.
His eyes are droopy, like he’s struggling to stay awake.
He fell asleep a bunch of times in the waiting room.
I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he’s got a neck crick.
“Why don’t you give us a minute, Randall?” Lily says to BJ.
He nods once and crosses to his bedroom, but leaves the door open a crack.
“How you holding up?” Lily asks.
I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I’m worried about my mom.” Tears prick at my eyes, and I have to swallow all the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me.
She nods. “I’m sure you are.”
“I shouldn’t have left. I knew he was angry, and I left her alone with him,” I admit.
Lily’s eyes turn sad. “Oh, honey, this isn’t your fault. It’s a terrible accident, but you didn’t cause it.”
My chin trembles, and those tears I’ve been fighting leak out, because she doesn’t realize I did cause it. I gave him the idea.
“Would you like a hug?”
I nod, and she wraps her arms around me.
As I sink into the comfort, I realize this is what it’s supposed to be like.
The way I have to protect my mom from my dad isn’t normal.
I shouldn’t be taking care of everyone else all the time.
And that knowledge makes me cry harder, because the bubble I’ve been in for the past week has burst, and everything good feels like it’s hanging in the balance, waiting to drop.
I don’t know how long we stand there, BJ’s mom holding onto me while I fall apart, but eventually my tears run dry. I’m so tired. So hopelessly exhausted.
Lily squeezes my hands. “Why don’t you try to get some rest, okay?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ballistic. For everything you’re doing for me.”
“It’s Lily, honey. And we’re here to help.” She crosses the hall to BJ’s room, and I notice my backpack is sitting just inside the door, which means BJ saw me snot-sobbing all over his mom. I don’t even have the energy to be embarrassed.
The booze has been removed, so I’m guessing BJ tucked it away.
I rummage around and find my toothbrush, then head for the bathroom.
I always keep one with me for post hockey practice, so my mouthguard doesn’t get funky.
I cringe when I get a load of my reflection.
My skin is blotchy, and there are huge, dark circles under my puffy, red eyes. I look as bad as I feel.
I use the bathroom and pull a fresh shirt from my bag. The dryer sheets inside don’t mask the scent of stale cigarettes. But there’s nothing I can do about that.
When I open the bathroom door, BJ is sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks tired and worried. He motions to the nightstand. “I brought you a glass of water.” He extends his hand, palm facing up.
I cross the room and slip my fingers into his. He pulls me between his legs, settling a hand on my hip. He inspects my face.
“I look like shit.”
“You look beautiful and sad and tired,” he murmurs.
“I didn’t want you to know how bad it was,” I whisper.
“You’ve been fighting for a long time, huh?”
I bite my lips together. I don’t want to cry again.
He wraps his arms around me. They’re a family of huggers. “I can stay with you if you don’t want to be alone tonight.”
As much as I want the comfort, I don’t want to give his parents a reason to send me home. “I’m a thrasher. I’ll be okay on my own.”
He stands and gives me a chaste kiss. “I’ll leave my door open. If anything changes, you know where to find me.”
“Okay.” I climb under the covers, the sheets cool and soft against my legs. I’m used to being hot at night because we don’t have air in the cabin. I grab one of the other pillows and curl around it, trying to calm my mind enough to sleep.
I get there, but bad dreams make it hard to stay that way.
I must be noisy, because eventually BJ raps on the door and slips inside. “I can’t save you from the nightmares, but you don’t need to suffer through them alone.”
“What about your parents?”
“They’ll understand.” He climbs into my bed and curls his body around mine. “It’s gonna be okay, Snowflake.”
I want to believe him, but history tells me it probably won’t be.