Fluorescence: The Complete Tetralogy (25 page)

No TV. No music playing. No clanking and clanging from
her fumbling around in the kitchen because of her obsessive need to clean and rearrange. The silence unnerved me.

Whatever
.

I wouldn’t let her get to me anymore. Not as long as I
had something so much better to live for. Someone who
actually
loved me.

I popped into my room
, shut the door behind me and hopped onto my
bed. I texted Alice to let her know I’d gotten back okay, then I flipped open my laptop and streamed a rerun of a late night comedy talk show I’d missed over the weekend.

The quiet time was nice. While it lasted.

Afterward, I crept out of my room and wandered into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. There were dirty dishes everywhere. I pulled open the cupboard door below the sink. The trash hadn’t been emptied recently either.

It wasn’t like Mom to leave it for more than a day. I turned toward the kitchen table. Used utensils still scattered on top of wrinkled paper towels.

What the hell?

“Mom?”

Silence.

I checked the living room. Empty.

“Hey, Mom?” I raised my voice.

My stomach tightened.

I’d seen her car in the garage.

I knocked on her bedroom door.

No answer.

Shit.

I turned the doorknob and held my breath, easing the door open.

An empty room.

My eyes scanned down.

She was sprawled out on the floor beside her bed. Pale bare feet sticking out from beneath folds of her terry cloth robe. Her body motionless.

“Mom!” My heart skipped a beat. “Mom!” I fell to my knees beside her and lifted her up. Saliva oozed from the side of her mouth. She let out a long, drowsy groan, barely conscious.

“Jesus Christ, Mom! What did you do?”

“Where’s your father?” she mumbled. Her face was drained
of color, her hands freakishly cold.

How long had she been like this?

“Dad’s dead. Mom? What the hell happened?”

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she slurred something I couldn’t understand.

“Mom! Stay with me.” My heart was thumping so hard I thought I was going to have another heart attack.
I scooted back, resituating myself on the carpet, and felt a hard
crunch below my knee. I looked down.

Pills.

I saw the open bottle on the nearby dresser and reached for it.

Alprazolam, an anti-anxiety drug. Part of her anti-depressant
regimen.

“Shit. How many of these did you take?” The bottle was empty and only a handful surrounded me on the floor. I’d picked them up from the pharmacy recently. There had to have been a few dozen left when I’d gone away.

“Damn it, Mom.” I shook her gently, but she still didn’t respond. “I leave for a few days and… Shit!”

I propped her up on my knee and held her with one arm while I scrambled for my phone.

My hands trembled. I kept hoping my fluorescence would
spark to life again, that it might do
something—anything
to help her.

But it didn’t.

Jesus, Mom…

. . .

I texted Alice during the ambulance ride to the hospital. Every other word coming out incorrectly. My nerves shot.

It was just past 8:00 PM. Sunset. I hadn’t finished my homework for school tomorrow, but…

Damn it.

My mother may have been on the brink of death from a drug overdose and all I could think about was homework? What the hell was wrong with me!?

The ambulance pulled up to the hospital and one of the EMTs flung open the back doors and hopped out to help his partner.

I’ve seen scenes in movies with people bustling around the hospital ER, pushing, telling people to stay out of their way. Keep clear. Blood gushing everywhere from some tragedy or another.

This was different. They wheeled my mom in on a gurney
, corralled me into the empty white-walled waiting room, shoved a clipboard into my hands, and turned away, leaving me alone with a crummy pen and a long form demanding a bunch of medical history. I sort of wished there were other people in the room, but it was just me and the receptionist.

My mouth was paper dry. My stomach wouldn’t stop churning, threatening to erupt. I swallowed hard and
flopped down onto a waiting room chair. An uncomfortable, vinyl-covered metal chair. Hard. Cold. Barely large enough for an average person.

I turned to the forms. Medical history. Prescriptions.
Allergies. Primary physician. Emergency contact. Most teenagers
don’t know shit about their parents’ medical histories.

I knew more than I wanted to. More than I should have.

I finished filling out the last page and clipped our insurance card on top of the stack.

“Thank you, hun.” The receptionist beamed a fake smile at me.

I asked her what they were doing to Mom, but she shook
her head and shrugged, telling me she wasn’t sure and wasn’t able to speculate.

I lowered my head and scuffled back to my chair.

Bull.
My mom wasn’t the first person to ever OD on something. But I was at the mercy of the hospital staff, and there wasn’t anything I could do.

Mom had been on the edge before but she’d never gone over it. Last time, I’d stopped her. This time? I had disappeared for a few days and…

Damn it!

I wasn’t supposed to be responsible for this kind of shit at my age. I was supposed to be a kid. A rebellious teenager doing stupid crap, living life. Getting into trouble with friends. Not taking my mom to the ER because she couldn’t keep her own life in check. Not worrying about glowing alien shit coursing through my body. Not worrying about a pregnant girlfriend whose baby wasn’t our fault even though the baby was supposedly
ours
.

I kept busy in the waiting room by searching online for information about the drug Mom had taken. Overdosing on
it could be fatal. They’d probably have to pump her stomach.
There were other things they could do, but it was all dependent upon how much she’d taken and how quickly. The fact that she was conscious was a good sign at least.

My chest tightened. I felt sick to my stomach. Couldn’t tell if I needed to throw up or just get out of that damn overlit waiting room. I wanted to get on my motorcycle and ride somewhere. Anywhere. Just get out. Get some air. Get away from the sickening smell of disinfectants.

But I needed to know if she was going to be okay or not first.

I dragged my hands through my hair and growled, letting
off some steam. The receptionist peeked over her monitor at me, raising her eyebrows. I didn’t care. My shoulders ached
already from hunching over all of the paperwork. Even breathing
felt like a chore now. I buried my face in my hands. How was I supposed to…

“Brian!”

I looked up. Alice was jogging down the hall toward me.

“Alice?”

She sat in the chair next to me and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly.

“We came as fast as we could,” she said, wide-eyed. “Is she okay? Is your mom—”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “They aren’t telling me shit.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Brian.”

Alice’s mom came in shortly after and headed straight over to question the receptionist. She came over toward us a few moments later.

“They won’t tell me anything either, Brian. I’m sorry,” Jane said, taking a seat in a chair across from me.

Alice leaned over the armrest and wrapped her arms around me. I rested my head on her shoulder and my throat started to hurt, twisting up, making it difficult to swallow.

“I’m here for you,” Alice said in a soft, calming voice. “I know you’re upset and that’s okay. Let it out if you need to. There’s no one else here. No one’s gonna judge you.”

I didn’t want to, but my eyes were already swelling with tears.

“I just want us to be normal, Alice,” I said, my words muffled by her shirt. “I just want to have a normal life with you.” She tightened her arms around me and brushed her fingers through my hair, resting her cheek against the back of my head.

“I know, Brian. I know.” She kissed my head.

I sucked in a
congested
breath and coughed. Jane
stretch
ed out an arm toward me, offering a stack of tissues she’d just
pulled from a nearby box. I took one and plastered it onto my quivering face.

I didn’t want to look weak in front of Alice. I sure as hell didn’t want to cry.

But… everything hit me and I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

It had scared the hell out of me to find my mother like that. Lying on the floor like she was…

Was it my fault because I’d left?

What if she had died before I’d found her? What then?

What now?

“Brian?” A man in a long white coat came into the waiting
room. S. Alexis, MD, his ID badge read.

“Yes?” I wiped my face on my sleeve and scrambled to get up from my chair. “How… how is she?”

Alice stood and clutched my hand.

“We’ve stabilized her for now and are performing a gastric lavage—pumping out the contents of her stomach—
to clear out the medication. When that’s complete, we’ll
administer flumazenil, an antagonist to the sedative effects of the
alprazolam. We’ll also give her some fluids and observe her.”

“So… is she going to be okay?”

“She should be, yes. You got her here before too much of
the medication was absorbed into her bloodstream. Any longer
and…” He stopped mid-sentence and his lips thinned. “Well…
let’s just be thankful you got her here when you did. You’re a responsible young man.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” I said, reaching out my hand to shake his. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“She’ll need to stay here for a few days. We’ll review her medical history and contact her primary care physician in the morning. Considering the nature of the overdose, your mother may need further psychiatric review or treatment for her condition.”

Exactly what I was afraid of hearing.

I’d known for a while now she needed help but just didn’t
know who to go to or when. Sometimes her mistakes just didn’t feel like
my
responsibility.

The doctor left and I stumbled back down into my chair
and hunched over. Alice put her hand on my arm and
leaned down to look me in the eye.

“Hey.” She smiled. “Things will be okay. I’ll stay here with you as long as I can. Okay?”

“
Yeah.” I tried to smile but couldn’t get my face to comply.
I was mentally exhausted. “Thanks.”

“Here.” Jane came over and set a foam cup on the glass table beside me. Steam wafted from it. “I know it’s not the good stuff we have at home, but even hospital tea is better than nothing.” She set a few sugar packets and a coffee stirrer beside it.

“Thanks.” I picked up the cup and held it in my hands.

“It’s very hot, Brian. Be careful,” Jane added, sitting down
across from us again.

It
was
hot. Uncomfortable to hold, even.

Frankly, I didn’t care.

Chapter 7

“
B
rian? Brian? Wake up.”

Someone nudged me in the arm. I dragged my eyelids opened.

“
Alice? You’re still here?” I sat up in my chair and yawned
, my whole body drained and aching. “What time is it?” My
eyes began to water. I wiped my palms across my cheeks and
then stretched my arms up above my head. Jane was sitting across from us.

“It’s about 8:45,” she replied.

“Oh? Wait! You’re going to miss class. Alice, you don’t have to do that because of me.”

She smiled and shrugged, sweeping some hair away from
my eyes with a flick of her fingers. “My mom said it’s okay.
Besides, I think this is more important than math class. Don’t
stress out.”

“Thanks.”

What had I done so right to deserve Alice?

“The nurse said you could go see your mom now if you’d like,”
Jane said. She was nibbling on a breakfast sandwich of some kind and had a paper cup of coffee-shop coffee wedged
between her legs. “I brought you something, too.” She grinned
, handing me a paper bag from a local fast-food place.

“Thanks, Jane.” I set it on the seat beside me and got up.
“I’m going to go check on my mom first, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

I spoke with the receptionist first, who called the nurse over to take me to my mother’s room. The nurse told me they were going to move Mom to a different wing of the hospital shortly since she no longer required intensive care.

The nurse, Patty, held open the door to Mom’s room and
I entered cautiously. The distinct smell of disinfectant made
my nose wrinkle as I walked in. I was all too familiar with
hospitals; I had come to stay frequently before the fluorescence had healed me. Electrical wires dangled from
different kinds of equipment. Ugly off-white walls surrounded me.

Mom was hooked up to a heart rate monitor and had an IV drip taped to her wrist. Some of the color had come back to her face but she still looked like shit. Sallow skin. Dark circles under her eyes. She looked up at me and shook her head, squinting.

Was I supposed to feel pity for her?

I didn’t.

“Why’d you do it?” I asked, stepping closer to her bed. “Why’d you do it, Mom? What the hell is so wrong with your life that you have to keep doing this to yourself? To me? I don’t deserve it.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she replied, looking away.

“Bullshit. I understand you don’t give a damn about
your life or mine anymore. I told you to get help, Mom. I tried
to stop you, but apparently things got so bad you couldn’t help yourself, could you? I leave for a few days and you go to hell. Why? Tell me why, Mom.” I set a hand on the metal railing beside her and watched the pulse monitor bounce up and down a few times before returning my attention to her.