Chapter Two
His first visitor after removing the limits was his mother. He might have expected Ru or Bas, even Dane since he’d had Katie bring pizza, but it was good to see his mom too. She looked tired, older than Tommy remembered, but she still smiled at him. Her hair streaked with gray, and lines starting to show on her face, he wondered if all this had aged her.
“Hey, Mom,” he said quietly. He was sitting up in bed. He was clean since he’d been told she was coming, and he’d been trying to eat, testing things that his stomach approved, and avoiding things it didn’t. It was hit or miss most days. Even standing up was a game of Russian Roulette. Would his legs give out, or hold him for a few minutes? He never knew. Was it normal to feel like his brain wasn’t responding to stuff? He’d been too afraid to voice the questions for fear he’d be stuck in this nightmare even longer. What if it was permanent damage? What if that meant he’d never be free again? Having his mom there made him want to dissolve.
She reached out and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into a tight hug. He sucked in air, and began to feel his resolve shatter. He had cycles of good and bad days. Some days he felt like he was dying, other days he was almost normal. A sign of healing maybe? Today he’d been okay, until now. Now everything hurt again, right down to his soul. And he cried, a messy sob, but she didn’t pull away.
“I thought I’d lost you,” she said. “We got the call and it nearly stopped my heart. And then when I got to the hospital and they couldn’t keep you stable…”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
She held him a long time. His hair was getting long and he had to keep shoving it out of his face to keep it from getting stuck in his tears. He felt five again, like someone had stolen his bike, and that someone had been his ex-best friend, Bobby.
“I have a few letters from your friends. They’ve been checked by the staff, but you can’t keep them in here. You can read them, and then I have to bring them to the desk to add to your stuff.”
“I have stuff?” His room didn’t even have blankets.
“You have to prove you’re not going to hurt yourself before they let you have anything back. There are cards, coloring books, and other gifts at the counter.” She looked at the door. “I think you have to be willing to leave the room for those. Sit in the common area with one of the attendants?”
Tommy didn’t want to see anyone. “Can I read the letters?”
She handed over the first, which was from Sebastian:
Hey Tom Cat,
Heard they had to bring you back six times, which means you only have three lives left, so don’t mess this up. We all miss you like crazy. Your no visitor rule is driving us mad. The doctors say maybe you need the time?
Adam, the research king that he is, has been looking up everything he can about the stuff you were taking and the after effects. He’s freaking out because he can’t talk to you. Maybe see him and Ru soon? Your mom is sweet. Dane is doing okay, but wants to see you too. And well, this gay boy is missing his straight bff…We’re not mad. Not like you’d think. More sad that it got this far and you wouldn’t let us help. Maybe you’ll be ready for that soon too?
Love with glitter and glam,
Bas
Tommy folded the letter and handed it back. He longed to see everyone, but hated the idea of what he’d see on their faces. Pity? Anger? Sadness like his mom?
She handed him another letter, this one from Dane.
Tommy,
I’m not good with words like Adam. But I understand you and me aren’t all that different. Bad coping mechanisms. Your tool box is broken and empty like mine was. But we can fix it. Refill it with the helpful stuff. Like whisks and spatulas. I use those all the time. Whisks help me pause to sort my feelings and spatulas scrape the bad stuff out.
Had to learn to use them. That meant doing the work. Accepting the blame. Hope this helps.
Love,
Dane
Accepting the blame. One of the meds Tommy was being denied had been prescribed. He hadn’t stolen it. He had gotten extra pills and popped more than the amount listed on the side. But that was only because it had stopped helping. He needed more to turn off the grinding dark engine in his head. Until it hadn’t helped at all and he’d ended up snorting something in the bathroom at his friend’s prom. Memories sucked.
“The meds didn’t help,” Tommy muttered. How many had he taken that day? Five or six? On edge constantly, getting a brief moment of reprieve only for it to return twenty or thirty minutes later. He still longed to take a pill, like it could help him, even while he knew it wouldn’t. “I’m an addict?”
His mom ran her hands through his hair, but didn’t deny it. She took Dane’s letter and handed him another. This one from Ru:
Hey, Tommy. Everyone is okay, even Marissa’s okay. Mostly recovered now. I don’t know how much you remember, but I think you were part gone by then? Her attack? We hadn’t seen you for a few weeks before then, after you got mad when you came all wired to pick up Dane with me.
We all wonder how far back this started. End of VG? Before?
I mean, I saw it once on tour? But you said it wasn’t something you did much…I know now that’s how the illness makes you talk. Lies, maybe you even believed it?
