A Lush Betrayal (26 page)

W
HEN
I get back to the waiting room, I hand a coffee to Mel and ask, “Any news?”

“No. They’re running tests, looking at her electrolytes and stuff. Might just be dehydration, but it could also be something more serious, so Walsh told them he wants them to go ahead and do a CAT scan too.”

I gesture to Walsh who stands looking out the window at the hospital parking lot. “How’s he holding up?”

“He’s okay, but I’m afraid of what he’ll do once the crisis is over. I’m wondering if we can get Craig, that crew guy who’s in AA, to come up here and spend a few minutes with him.”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of that. What about his sponsor? Should we call him?

“Probably wouldn’t hurt,” she says.

I take out my phone and start punching in text messages to various people. Then I realize I’m so caught up in worrying about Walsh and Tammy and my own contributions to their misery that I’ve failed to remember this is Mel’s sister and best friend who’s lying in the bed down the hall.

I stop what I’m doing and put my hands on her upper arms, leaning down to look her in the eye. “And how about you? How are you holding up?”

She shakes her head slowly. “It’s really hard.” She wipes at the tears falling from her eyes. “I feel like I’m responsible, like if I’d been here for her the last few weeks, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. She’s always been there for me, Joss. Always. I’ve been pissed at her for trying to tell me what to do, but I completely missed that she might actually need me for once. I just abandoned her.”

I pull her into my arms. “No, baby. You had an argument and it’ll fix itself. It will. None of us knew she was in trouble. Even Walsh said he didn’t take it seriously enough. It’s no one’s fault. Sometimes people lose their way.”
Like I lost mine that night.
“She’s lost hers, but we’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she gets back on track. Whatever she needs—doctors, vacations, maybe some alone time with her favorite sister. She’s family, and we’ll take care of her.”

Mel squeezes me harder and burrows into my chest. “You’re so generous, Joss. After everything she said about you, how she acted when we started seeing each other? Thank you so much for forgiving her.”

I feel sick, so I don’t answer. I just hold on to her, the sinking feeling that this may be the last time I ever get to, growing stronger by the minute.

Mel

F
OR AS
long as I can remember my sister has been there with me. Keeping me safe, guiding my choices, advising me. When we were young, Mom used to tell Tammy, “You have the second most important job after mine. You’re the big sister. You have to take care of Mel when I’m not here.”

Tammy took those words very seriously. She’s taken care of me my whole life, and now it may be time for me to take care of her. I’m scared because my sister is the toughest woman I’ve ever known, but for her, I can do it. And if it means Joss and I have to see less of each other for a while, then that’s what I’ll do. I know he’ll understand, and if he really does love me, then he’ll support me no matter what it takes. One thing for is sure though, when my sister walks out of this hospital she’s never going to wonder if I’m there for her again.

I think I’ve dozed off on Joss’s shoulder when I hear him talking to me. “Baby, the doctor’s here.” I jolt awake and sit up, trying to get my bearings. I see Walsh striding across the room toward the doctor, so I jump up and follow.

“Mr. Clark?” the doctor says.

“Yes, I’m Tammy’s fiancé, and this is her sister,” Walsh replies as I reach his side.

The doctor nods at me. “So let me start by telling you that Tammy’s resting and comfortable. She’s been talking to us and she’s coherent.”

I hear Walsh exhale in relief and I can see his hand trembling as he holds it by his side.

“Now, the CAT scan didn’t show anything to worry about. However, she’s dehydrated, underweight, and emotionally very fragile. We’ve got her on IV fluids and a mild tranquilizer to help her relax, but we’re very concerned about the possibility that she’s suffering from an eating disorder.”

“What?!” I cry out.

Walsh is shaking his head. “No. Not Tammy. She hasn’t been eating well lately, but I promise you, if I thought she had an eating disorder, I’d have gotten her help right away.”

“I understand, and I don’t want you to think that anything going on with her is because you haven’t done something right, Mr. Clark. Many times patients with these disorders are extremely good at hiding it from those around them, even the most important people in their lives.”

“But wouldn’t something like this have shown up earlier, Doctor?” I ask. “I mean, I thought teenagers got eating disorders, not twenty-seven-year-old women.”

“I’ll get you some literature on the conditions and you can read all the background information, but keep in mind that this is one possible diagnosis, and we don’t know enough to be certain yet. Which is why we want to keep her overnight, get her rehydrated, and give her some time to meet with a psychiatrist on staff. Whether she’s got a textbook eating disorder or not, Tammy had the equivalent of a nervous breakdown today. Her body gave out before her mind did technically, but it’s the same thing. She’s fragile and her grasp on things is tenuous. We need to address that before we release her, and we need to make sure that we’ve set her up with whatever resources she needs when she walks out of our doors.”

Walsh nods and looks at me. “Yeah, whatever she needs,” I say, my mind spinning with the information that my sister, the one who’s taken care of me my whole life, has had a nervous breakdown. It’s surreal.

The doctor tells Walsh that Tammy can have visitors for a couple of hours before they close down for the night and gives us her room number. We go back and explain everything to Joss, who looks utterly ill from the news but tells Walsh that he’ll go talk to the staff about Walsh staying the night in Tammy’s room. As soon as Joss leaves, Mike, who’s been skulking in the corner most of the evening, comes over and asks how Tammy is. Walsh gives him the basics, and Mike shakes his head as he clasps Walsh to him and says how sorry he is.

“Whatever you need, man,” Mike tells Walsh sorrow filling his eyes. “Whatever you need.”

I have to admit that I’m shocked to see this good-guy side to Mike. He can be funny, clever, angry, and cheeky, but I’ve never seen him be kind, and at this moment, I’m so appreciative for that kindness.

“Right now I’d like to see my girl,” Walsh answers. “Do you want to come with, Mel?”

“You go ahead. Maybe come get us once she says it’s okay?”

“Yep. Be back soon,” he replies.

J
OSS HAS
made sure Tammy’s room will remain private and gotten Walsh set up to sleep here tonight. Aside from the fact that I know Tammy will be better and happier if he’s here with her, Joss also agrees that it’s safer for Walsh right now. The last thing we need is for him to be out in the world with all that booze as upset as he is. The hospital’s one of the few places we know he won’t come across a bottle of bourbon or a six-pack.

Walsh visits with Tammy for about fifteen minutes before he comes back to the waiting room and tells us she’s ready to see everyone. Colin’s come from meeting the pizza delivery guy in the lobby, so he carries the pizza with him to Tammy’s room, saying that it’ll give us all something to do while we talk to her. “Make it seem more normal, you know?” A surprisingly astute observation from Spicoli version 2.0. If he knew they think Tammy might have an eating disorder, he’d reassess the plan. I can’t bother to worry about it at this point, so we head down the hall—four rock stars, the little sister, and a large pizza with pepperoni and sausage.

When we walk in, I’m nearly knocked back by the shock of seeing Tammy this way. She’s hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor, and she seems so small in the big white bed. She’s sitting up, but her eyes are sunken in her face, and her hair is a knotted mess around her head. The room itself is pleasant enough. It’s painted a light blue, has a window looking over the parking lot, and already hosts a bouquet of flowers next to the bed. Something I’m sure Walsh managed to have done while she was getting the tests run.

Tammy sees me and starts crying, her hands over her mouth. I run and throw my arms around her, sobbing myself.

“You scared the crap out of me,” I whisper as I hold her.

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out over and over again.

“Shhh,” I tell her. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You’re going to get better and I’ll be right here with you no matter what.”

She nods as she tries to stop crying.

I hear the shuffling and whispers from the guys behind me. Realizing all these tears are probably making them really uncomfortable, I stand up and paste on a bright smile. “Everyone’s been waiting to see you. Look, Colin even brought a pizza.”

Tammy smiles and manages a small laugh. “Colin, when I get out of here, you and I are going to have a Mario rematch and I’m going to kick your butt AND eat half the pizza.”

Colin looks like the sun has just shone for him alone, and gives her a shy smile. “Okay, Tam. I’ll even let you have the pink cart since I know you love it so much.”

Tammy’s eyes travel around the room until she reaches Joss. Her expression turns sad and she quickly moves her gaze to her hands on the sheet. Joss is standing quietly off to the side, not really entering the circle the rest of the guys have formed around Tammy. I wonder if she senses that he’s not engaging, and it hurts her feelings.

“Joss, take off those silly glasses so Tammy can see the eyeliner I put on you,” I joke.

He smiles uncomfortably and removes the glasses he’s been wearing around the hospital to avoid being recognized and causing a scene.

“Just call me Marilyn,” he says, referencing the kinky heavy metal singer Marilyn Manson.

“God,” Tammy chokes out. “That’s really awful. You look like a transvestite.”

Joss gives her a wry smile and shakes his head.

We each eat a slice of pizza. I don’t think anyone’s all that hungry, but from what I can tell, the guys will eat no matter how tired or upset they are. Tammy isn’t allowed to have any, but she doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the rest of us eating and even mentions that it smells good. I find it hard to imagine that she has an eating disorder, but I haven’t read the information from the doctors yet, so what do I know?

After about forty-five minutes of small talk, stuff about Colin’s cat and the girl who snuck onto the bus while we were at a rest stop in Kentucky last week, I can see that Tammy’s getting tired. She’s been through a lot today.

“We should probably get going, Walsh,” I say, giving him a pointed look. “Let you and Tammy get some rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I think my girl’s ready for a good night’s sleep so we can bust her out of here tomorrow. Right, babe?”

Tammy nods.

“So we’re supposed to fly back to Atlanta tomorrow, and we’ve got the concert in Jacksonville the day after. What are we going to do about all of that?” Colin asks as he picks up the empty pizza box and stuffs it in the garbage can next to Tammy’s bed.

“Yeah, I’ve got to have a call with Dave tonight, but we’re thinking we may fly a backup drummer out to do the Jacksonville concert while Walsh and Tammy take care of whatever they need to,” Joss says. “Miguel can take over Tammy’s job for now. He knows how everything in the show works, and we can do some of the other stuff ourselves, get our own damn meals and shit. We’re not complete cripples.”

“A backup drummer?” Mike says, scowling at Joss. “What the fuck?”

“Just for a show or two, man. He needs time to help Tammy right now.”

“Yeah, and he should get that time, and the rest of us should be right there to help
him
, not off performing with some backup asshole as if drummers are a dime a dozen and you can slide anyone with a pair of sticks into Walsh’s slot.”

Mike has taken a step toward Joss, and he looks at him with such menace it scares me. “Mike,” Walsh says. “It’s okay. Joss mentioned it to me earlier in the waiting room. I’m fine with it, really. I don’t want the burden of feeling like the whole tour has to stop because I need some time off.” He turns to Joss. “I know you’ve got my back, Joss. It’s fine.”

Mike shakes his head, his body taking on a tenseness I can feel from several feet away.

“He’s got your back?” he asks, incredulously. “If you only knew how much Joss Jamison
doesn’t.
Have. Your back. How he couldn’t give a shit about anything to do with you or this band.”

Joss steps toward Mike. His voice is quiet but very dangerous. “Don’t do it, Mike,” he warns.

Mike glares at him. “I was there, man. Bet you never figured that, huh? Yeah, I stopped by your place. You didn’t even lock the door you were in such a rush to get to it I guess. I wanted to find out how the visit to rehab had gone. I was worried about Walsh. Looks like I was the only one.”

“Stop!” Joss orders, his voice too loud in the small space.

“Or what, Joss?” Mike sneers. “I don’t have a fiancée for you to fuck. What are you going to do to
me
?”