One. Two. Three. Four. Five. A heavy breath left my lips and floated to the ground as I twisted my fingers together again. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Another breath escaped. A large hand came down and rested on my knee, giving it a light squeeze. I glanced up at Ollie’s tired face, and he gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach the dark circles under his eyes.
I wanted to smile at him. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. How him being here by my side was enough to keep me from spiraling out of control. But I couldn’t even muster up a single syllable. My cheeks refused to rise. My mouth was glued shut. I only hoped that my eyes told the story, because I wasn’t sure I’d ever speak again.
I replayed the scene in my head over and over again. Small pieces of broken memories flew at me as I sat in the waiting room with the sound of beeping machines echoing through the hospital. I wondered what I’d done wrong over the years. I wondered, if I had done something differently, if Jason would be here. Regret and guilt started to sneak their way in, and I had no one to blame but myself.
That was the thing about situations like this: they were so uncertain. If my parents would have helped Jason a few years ago, would he have landed in the hospital? Or would their help have just turned into enabling? What if I’d told my parents about Tank, and Jason owing him money? What would they have done? Would he still have ended up like this? Was this the ending he was meant to have?
The ending. Was it the end?
I swallowed back a harsh lump as Ollie’s thumb rubbed the inside of my knee. I stared at it, the strokes back and forth somehow comforting me in my state of rising panic.
“How is he? Is he okay? Is he alive?” My mother’s voice had me snapping my head up in search of whomever it was she was talking to. The doctor, with his wrinkly tanned face, looked ambushed, but nonetheless, he answered.
I quickly got up and stood by my parents, my father glancing down at me once before looking back at the doctor.
“He is alive. We were able rid his system of the drugs and are giving him fluids now. Your son is tired but coherent enough to talk to you, if you’d like to go back.”
My heart leapt in my chest. He’s alive. But…now what?
My mother began to push forward, but the doctor quickly put his hand up. “Listen.” My mother stopped in her tracks. “I say this to all parents and caregivers when we get a case like this.” The doctor closed the file in his hand and lowered his voice. “We both are aware that your son needs help. In fact, I have had a lengthy talk with him about what happened, and now is not the time for you and your husband to go in there to reprimand him. Jason is in a fragile state. Not only did he just come close to overdosing, but he did so on purpose. He needs rest and fluids, and tomorrow, I have scheduled for a psychiatrist to come evaluate him and to talk with you two as well.” I sucked my lips between my teeth and glanced back at Ollie. Hayley and Christian were huddled beside him, talking quietly.
When I turned back to look at the doctor, he was staring at me. The wrinkles on his face softened just a tad before he turned and glanced at my parents. “You all are welcome to come back now, but please keep in mind that this is not the time to have a yelling match. Jason’s health is my number one priority right now, and that will do harm.” He began to turn away but not before he said, “If you cannot control yourself and your anger and disappointment, please do not come back.” Then, he turned to me and inched his head for me to follow. I felt the small rise of my lips as I trailed after him, not really caring if my parents were doing the same.
Once we got to the window, we both stared into the room. My brother was lying on the hospital bed with an IV hooked up to his arm. His eyes were closed, and the white sheet was pulled up to his chest. He looked so unlike the picture I had of him in my head. When I thought of Jason, I thought of the good times. The times where he was happy and glowing. The times we had fun together. Not this. Not this shell of a person I used to know.
“He’s sorry, you know.”
I shifted my attention to the doctor. “How do you know?”
He continued peering through the window. “The first words out of your brother’s mouth when he woke were, ‘I’m sorry, Piper.’”
My hand came up to cover my mouth.
“It took me a while to figure out who you were, but once he was coherent and I started asking questions, I learned you were his sister.”
I said nothing. I didn’t really know what to say. All I knew was that my heart hurt.
For a while, the doctor and I just stood and stared through the window. Jason was sleeping peacefully, his coppery-brown hair matted down to the side of his head. His cheeks had more color, thankfully, but he still looked rough.
“I’m sad,” I finally said, barely above a whisper.
And I was sad. I was sad for a lot of reasons. I was especially sad that my parents chose to stay in the waiting room rather than see their son. Did they hate him that much? Or were they sad too?
“It’s okay to be sad. It’
s hard to see someone you love being destroyed by something that's completely out of your control.” The doctor cleared his throat before looking down at his phone. “It’s hard to love a user.”
I stared at his profile as he continued looking at Jason. “Sounds like you know from experience.”
“I do,” he answered abruptly. “And my only advice to you is to hope for the best, but always expect the worst. I was told that once, and it stuck.”
I nodded, taking in his advice like it was actual oxygen. I repeated the mantra in my head as he began to walk away, leaving me to stare at my brother all alone.
But then, that was when I heard the raised voices.
I gave Jason one more glance before rushing to the waiting area, waiting just behind the far wall to listen.
“Ollie, calm down. I’ve never seen you act like this.” Christian.