The drive back home is shorter than the drive to the hospital, even though I take the same route. But it's always that way. Nothing awaits me at home. I am simply travelling from point A to point B. The hallway feels even more distant when I exit the elevator. But my room is calming and warm. Kyle must have left the heat on and I silently thank him for it. Kyle. I can finally relax and think about what has transpired. He made an effort to be strong for me. I was definitely falling apart. His voice, though, was shaky when I passed out. Did I really pass out? It only seemed like a slight sway of the room. But he almost sounded afraid, more than just concern.
The phone rings. Oh God, Cassie!
"Hey Cas..." I haven't even tried to cover up my weak voice. I sound like I haven't slept for days.
"Ang? Are you ok? You sound terrible."
"Jasmine is in the hospital." There. I said it. That's all that happened. She's up in her hospital bed, sleeping away all this bad stuff that the rest of us are enduring.
"Oh no! What happened? Is she alright? Is she sick?" Cassie's reaction is more than I expect and my heart jumps.
"I... don't know. She was unconscious and they had to take her to the emergency room. But she's fine I guess. Kyle and Bobby are still there. I should call them and find out." Wow, did I really leave without knowing why she was unconscious? Seeing her peaceful on her bed was enough for me.
"Wow... well, I hope she gets better. Let me know what happens."
"K."
A long silence and then my stomach growls loudly.
"God, I'm starving."
"Should I let you go?" I suddenly realize that Christmas vacation is only two weeks away.
"Oh Jesus, Cas! I haven't told you when I'm coming, have I?" Cassie giggles slightly.
"No, you haven't. That's ok. Call me back. Today was a rough day so far I'm guessing." So far. It's not even noon. There's still so much that could happen today. I should call Kyle. My stomach growls again. Ok, I'll call him after I eat lunch. Breakfast. Whatever.
"Yeah... I'l call you either tonight or tomorrow afternoon. Cool?"
"Cool."
I grab for my kettle as soon as I hang up. Tea. Tea is good. My fridge has a sandwich of Kyle's from yesterday, which I promptly devour. I never did like leftovers. But today is not a normal day and I force my stomach to enjoy the day-old bread, ham and lettuce. My water boils and soon I have a mug of chamomile staring up at me. So many people don't realize that chamomile, peppermint, lemon and all those other fruity flavors are just that: flavors. It's not considered tea. The only teas we drink that are classified as tea are green, black, oolong and white. They come from either China or India. Everything else is just fake. Hot water with chemical flavoring. Funny. Because the frauds are more easy to drink for me. Sure, green and black tea is important. Black tea has as much caffeine as coffee, but it tastes better I think. And green tea has nutrients in it that can help your immune system. So do green beans, but I'd rather drink tea. But for some reason, having a flavor or dark, red color seems like hyper-reality. It's a mask. Tea makes me feel better, even when it has no real helpful vitamins. That almost seems a better deal, to understand that you're knowingly buying into a lie. I feel in control of something when I drink non-teas. I'm not just drinking tea, I'm drinking my sanity.
The phone rings again. Unknown number. I let the machine pick it up. It's not one of those machines where you can hear the person leaving a message. I figure that if I really wanted to talk to them, I'd put their number in my directory. Then their number would show up on my ID. After a while, the screen blinks the number one. I try to ignore it, but I finish my tea and have nothing else to do besides call Kyle. My fingers have other plans and the machine rattles off the day and time of this message. Then, a voice.
"Hi, Angela. Don't know where you could be on a Saturday. Probably out having fun. Just wanted to say hi. Well, I also wanted to ask if you were coming home for Christmas. I mean, if we could celebrate Christmas together this year. It's been a while since we did that. We could get a big tree and play stupid Christmas albums while we eat yummy food. Um... I guess I'll hear from you later. Just uh... give me a ring sometime soon. K. Love ya."
My finger lingers over the delete button, but I can't bring myself to do it. My hand is shaking again. I pick up the phone and dial my own cell phone number. It rings a few times, then Kyle picks up.
"Hello?" He's whispering.
"Hi. It's me. Where are you?"
"Hold on." I can hear him breathing and some rustling sounds. "Ok, I'm outside now. They really don't like you talking on cell phones in there." He sounds almost irritated.
"Has anything happened? Did you speak with the doctor?"
"Yes and no." When he doesn't explain right away, I prepare myself.
"Which one is which?"
"Well, we spoke to the doctor." My stillborn sigh from earlier rushes out of me. "Jasmine's doing better. They might even move her out of critical care by tonight. But she'll have to stay overnight, maybe even more than one night. The doctor said they had to pump her stomach." That could mean only one thing. Drugs. Goddamnit, Jasmine.
"What did she take?"
"They said it wasn't anything illegal. Some sort of prescription. He didn't want to say and asked if her parents were coming."
"Are they?"
"I think so. The nurse at the desk said they usually call next of kin with emergencies. Especially when it has to do with prior medical records, stuff like that. I think the doctor was a little pissed off."
"Really?" I almost giggle. Serves him right, stupid country doctor. He probably hates all us college kids, what with all the trouble we cause him.
"I should bring Bobby back. You hungry?"
"I could eat."
"K, I'll be back soon. Maybe half an hour."
"Ok." When I hang up, the number one still glows red on my machine's screen. Thank goodness it's not blinking. It's not that I don't want to talk to my mother, but rather that I don't talk to her. Period. We've had a symbiotic pact never to ruffle each other's feathers. And by ruffle, I mean, ask any questions about our lives. I don't understand why she's trying to get involved now. She is the last person I want to talk to.
I remember the last time I had a conversation with my mother that lasted longer than a minute. I was fifteen. My birthday was next month and I wanted to have a big party at our house. We had a nice house, with a big living room and fireplace. I could just imagine all my friends sitting around on the floor telling gruesome gossip to each other and eating popcorn. I was very much a girl's girl back then. I styled my hair to perfection every morning, meaning I got up before dawn. I always had on some glossy nail polish, whether it be a shade of pink, blue or purple. God, how I have changed.
My mother had been out all day with her beau du jour. I forget their names, but they were all tall and gruff-looking. One smelled of gasoline. She came back drunk. It wasn't a visible drunk, but more like a heavy smoke that hung in the air. The atmosphere, when you drew close to her, was thick and overcast. I told her what I wanted. I think back now and realize that I was a mouse to her lion. She had claws and knew how to use them. I remember the way I felt when she said that I wasn't any better than she was. That I came from a long line of fuck-ups and that nothing in this world was ever going to save me from that history. She broke down in tears and lunged towards me, supposedly for an embrace. I darted away and she fell down, crawling moments later for the sofa. That's when I smelled the alcohol, left behind in her wake. I promised myself I wouldn't touch the stuff. And I never have. Alcohol was the way my mother fucked up. And I certainly didn't want to end up like her.
The door makes a noise. It's Kyle, knocking with his feet it sounds like. I open the door for him. He is the only one present his arms full with bags.
"Where's Bobby?" I take a bag from his arms and peek inside. Some pasta, string cheese and a carton of ice cream. Mint chocolate chip, his favorite.
"I asked if he wanted to stay over here, but he said he needed some time to himself. He said he'd call." Kyle's eyebrows go up in worry and suspicion.
"If he said he'll call, then he'll call. It's not like I'm going to abandon him now, but I can understand why he needs time to himself. It wasn't that long ago that I would have done the same thing. People change." He grins slightly.
"That's nice to hear," he says quietly. He tenderly kisses my cheek and travels down to my neck, nuzzling the soft skin there. I wrap my arms around him as he wraps his around my waist. He swiftly picks me up and holds me even tighter. When I land on my feet again, a smile. It's the first real smile today. A true accomplishment. Kyle always makes me feel good. Today was the worst day until this moment. How does he do it? How does he get inside me and make me feel like my chest is full of bubbles?
We eat the food he has brought, lounging and simply idling the day away. In the evening, we both change into our pajamas and go to bed early. Even after not doing anything this afternoon, I feel tired. Kyle's arms around me are like my own. His warm skin feels like mine, his chest against my back warms me. I shudder. The window is open slightly. I get up to close it and turn back to Kyle, a sudden falling feeling in my throat and chest. What if I didn't have him? What if I had never met him? What if I were to lose him? A second shudder runs through my body. Stop that right now, Angela. Don't you dare curse this. He's here and always will be. Just keep thinking that. He's here, he's with me....