Chapter Twenty-Two
Dane tugged on the restraints. He couldn’t recall having them before, though now that he was calm again, he could see why they were needed. He had really done some damage. The IV in his arm kept him hydrated, but he had to use the call light to bring in a nurse to let him up so he could pee. He ached all over. The exercise and fight with the nurse had destroyed him. He was covered in bruises, most of which he’d done to himself. He was even missing a few chunks of hair that apparently he’d ripped out without realizing it.
Rehab was a picnic compared to the hospital. His room was small but meant for two people. So far he didn’t have a roommate, and he hoped it stayed that way. He would be there until the doctor gave him clearance to go back to rehab. If he got cleared at all.
He shivered at the thought of being committed long-term. The restraints and endless drug cocktails were not growing on him. The nurses checked on him every fifteen minutes, the door to the room couldn’t be closed without permission, and the locked bathroom meant he had no privacy at all. He didn’t like being fuzzy from the medication but was grateful he had a grip on sanity for the moment.
Tommy sat beside the bed looking tired and haggard, eyes bloodshot, jaw set in a firm line. Of course the doctors had called him, since he had power of attorney over Dane. But Dane couldn’t help but be angry at himself for disappointing Tommy again.
“I’m sorry,” Dane told his friend. Maybe he should have made Joely his power of attorney. Tommy didn’t need the stress. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, though Dane had seen him two days earlier, happy, rested, and healthy. The scruffy exhaustion was a direct result of Dane being in his life.
“Was it spending time with us that caused this?” Tommy asked, not for the first time. They’d been over the event a half dozen times in the past several hours, Dane lying each time. “Maybe you could tell me the truth this time?”
“You don’t want me to say yes, so why do you keep asking?” Dane sighed.
“Because I want to know how to fix this. What we did wrong.”
“Nothing. I’m crazy, okay? My head just isn’t working right.”
“That’s the truth, but not all of it. Why were you exercising and hurting yourself? What were you thinking?” Tommy reached out to touch the bandaged spots on Dane’s head. “How could you have done this and not even feel it? You were bleeding. It took five guards and a nurse to restrain you. I just don’t understand how that could have happened when you were doing so well.”
Dane didn’t really want to think back to the previous night and how his head flew away with him.
“I was okay until I was alone.”
Tommy glanced around the room. “Then maybe it’s better that you’re in the hospital instead of residential care.”
Dane tugged at his bonds. “This is not okay. I don’t want to be here.”
“But you need to be right now.”
They sat in silence together for a few minutes before Dane said, “It was like the end of a tour. All the noise was gone, and I was just left with all the monsters in my head, screaming at me, judging me, hating me.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I was just going to work out until I got tired. If I focus on how my body feels, make it hurt, push it hard, it’s easier to drown out the voices. That’s all I remember.”
“The app that told you the servings you’d met for the day freaked you out. I’ve already deleted it from your tablet. It was supposed to be a positive thing, not make you hurt yourself.”
“I’m sorry.”
“But those servings are correct. Those are the very minimal amounts of food to sustain your body every day. Without them, you are killing yourself through malnutrition and starvation.”
“It was just so much. I kept thinking that I ate too much and to be like you and the others, I had to work out.”
“Like us how? You see us eat all the time.”
“You’re all perfect. In good shape. You don’t have to work for it.”
“Bullshit. Do you have any idea how hard Ru works out? Adam may look flawless, but that kid runs a dozen miles a day. I will never be a body builder, because no matter how hard I work out, I don’t put on muscle. I am a beanpole. And Bas is just normal. I know he goes to the gym three times a week to lift and practices yoga two other days. I think the yoga is more for his mental health than his body. He doesn’t do anything crazy, just a half an hour to forty-five minutes a day. That’s what you should be aiming for—eating all your servings and thirty minutes of moderate exercise every day.”
“I don’t want to get fat.”
“Dane, you’re so thin right now that you’d have to eat a dozen Big Macs every day for months to get fat. You’re almost thirty pounds underweight for your height.” Tommy leaned back in the chair, rubbing his eyes.
“I’m so tired, Dane. This is all I can think about. I can’t sleep because I’m worried about you. I’m afraid they’re going to call me and say you’re dead. But I don’t know how else to help you.”
Dane sighed, knowing that he couldn’t ask more of his friend. “You don’t have to stay. I shouldn’t have called you, made you power of attorney, or come here to Minnesota. I just wanted you to be close to your friends, and I needed you.”
“You still need me. I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“I can do it on my own.”
