Chapter Nine
Cassidy
I did everything in my power to avoid Erik for the rest of the day after our incident in the craft closet. His touch had felt like velvet on my skin. My hips had thrust toward him in an instinctual urge to have him pull me closer. It had been a very long time since I had felt such physical attraction, and I certainly couldn’t remember a man coming straight out and telling me I was beautiful.
But it was all for nothing. I wasn’t going to let things go any further than they already had. I was happy he wasn’t angry with me and really proud that he was up and participating in programming again, but that was it. Nothing more.
Nothing about the moment was right, at least it wasn’t right for a treatment facility. I wasn’t even sure I liked the guy as a human being yet; he was really an ass at times. But there was no denying that the sexual chemistry between the two of us was off the charts. Simply having his hand on me literally made my knees go weak.
I could fantasize a little about him, no harm could come from that. But nothing more than fantasies would ever happen between us. I would make sure of that. Or at least, I would try my hardest. But as I left work and headed home, my mind was swirling with the idea of what kind of lover he was. I imagined his lips against mine and how that would make me feel. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
By the time I got home, all I could think about was Erik. I thought about his smile, the way he had called me beautiful, and I tried to analyze everything he said and did to see what it was he was trying to get from me.
That’s what addicts did: they used their charms to get what they wanted. I knew addicts well. I had been one, after all. I wanted to believe Erik was playing some sort of game with me, but I couldn’t come up with anything I could offer the man that would be reason enough for him to give me such a compliment.
I wasn’t in charge of anything at the treatment facility. In fact, I was lower on the totem pole than even the janitor was; at least the janitor had keys to every room. I had to get buzzed on and off the secured unit. To be honest, Erik probably had a better chance of getting what he wanted without even talking to me. He was paying cash for his stay, which was a valuable commodity in our industry.
Could it be possible that he actually thinks I am beautiful? I wondered. I didn’t see how a guy like him would even see beauty in a girl like me. I was rough around the edges, nothing polished or fake on me. My boobs were decent sized, but not fake and large like the women in California. I had a slim waist, but my ass was voluptuous, there was no denying it, and I couldn’t hide, especially because I loathed working out so much. I stood in front of my mirror and looked at myself. I wasn’t hideous, but I wasn’t a model, either. I suspected a guy like Erik was used to dating models and celebrities.
“Cassidy, dinner is ready,” my mother hollered from the stairs.
I liked living at home. I knew to some people it seemed like I had failed because I was back at home with my parents, but for me, it was right. I needed their love around me as I recovered and got myself back on track. I certainly hadn’t expected to stay at home for as long as I had, but until something better came up, I was perfectly happy right where I was.
My parents were good to me, and I couldn’t imagine that I would be leaving their house anytime soon. Probably not until I found a college to go to – if a college actually took me into one of their programs.
“There’s my girl,” my father said as I sat down at the table. “How was your work at that place today? Are you ready to throw in the towel and come work the slopes? Christmas season sure is a busy one this year.”
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you guys, I hiked up the ridge with some patients the other day. It was so beautiful up there. That path sure did look good, Dad. I know you worked really hard on it.”
“You hiked?” my mother asked.
The look on her face made it seem like I never did anything physical at all. Sure, I only liked to walk on the treadmill at the gym – and I hardly ever actually got to the gym. But I wasn’t disabled; I did have the ability to walk. She didn’t have to look at me like I had suddenly turned green or something.
“Yes, Mom. I actually moved my legs and walked,” I teased her.
“Thanks for telling me, honey. I wasn’t sure anyone was going to use the trail in the winter. But I decided to scoop the snow out of the way anyways, just in case.”
“It was perfect, Dad. The path was all clear and because we had a few warm days, even the residual snow had melted off the trail. It was a beautiful hike.”
“Are you going to turn into one of those fitness junkies who eat kale and works out all the time?” Mom asked.
“I don’t think so, but would that be all that horrible? At least I’d be healthy for a change.”
I knew my mother and father were just worried about me. I had spent so many years lying to them about where I was going and what I was doing that it was hard for them to transition into actually trusting me. I didn’t blame them, though. I had set up our relationship with a lack of trust and it was my responsibility to earn it back.
“So, what’s new at work, dear?” my mom asked as we ate.
“There’s a patient who I think I helped today,” I said.
“Well, that’s good. Tell me about it.”
I loved that my parents seemed genuinely interested in what I did with my day. My father certainly didn’t want me to keep working at the rehab facility, but even he could put on a supportive face while we had dinner together as a family.
Sometimes, it really baffled me as to why I had thought my life was so horrible when I started drinking and partying all the time. I could still remember telling friends that my parents were the equivalent to Nazi guards. The memory made me cringe as it passed through my head. My parents had only been worried about me and wanted the best for me. They had put a curfew on me if I was to stay in their home and I had called them Nazis. It wasn’t the proudest moment in my life, that was for sure.
“He wasn’t coming to groups or doing pretty much anything at all. I think he was depressed. But today I got him to come to a group and he even made a collage for his mother who passed away. I think it was a lot of progress for him.”
“You are such a sweet girl, honey,” my mother said.
“I hope those people appreciate all that you do for them,” my father replied grumpily.
“Dad, I get paid to work there; isn’t that enough?”
“People should show appreciation for others, though. They better be nice to you or they’ll have your angry papa bear hunting them down.”
My father had a dry sense of humor, but my mother and I appreciated it. Sometimes, other people thought he was being serious, though, and that was embarrassing. I hated when he would make a joke and someone would just stare blankly at him, but my mother seemed to be used to it and didn’t even tell people when he was joking.
I decided not to mention the part of my story where I yelled at the patient and berated him before he decided to show up to group. Or the part where I lied to him and said I was leading the group when I was really just sitting at a table in the back.
I also left out the part of the story where the incredibly handsome patient told me I was beautiful and leaned in so close to me that I thought he was actually going to kiss me. My parents didn’t need to know those parts of the story.
When I finally got to bed that night, it felt like I had only just closed my eyes when my alarm went off. I had to work early that morning because the other tech was going to a doctor’s appointment, or dentist, or something; I wasn’t sure and I couldn’t keep all of his stories straight.
“Good morning,” I said to Kaitlin when I arrived.
I had totally forgotten that she was working the overnight shift. It was always more fun to get the shift notes from Kaitlin than any of the other nurses. She told me the truth about how people were doing and didn’t sugarcoat it like Susan did.
“I’m so tired. I think I might just fall asleep right...” Her head fell into her hands and she dramatically snored like she was sleeping.
“Did you have a good night? Other than the being exhausted part?”
“Yeah, it’s actually much more fun to work overnight. Everyone is sleeping. I could deal with so many more people if they would just stay sleeping while I worked,”
“Me, too!”
“Okay, well, we have new girl in room two. She’s puking all over the place. I finally just brought her a bucket because I was tired of cleaning up the floor when she couldn’t make it to her room. I have the doctor coming to see her in an hour because she really didn’t look well. She’ll need a little loving and attention today. Her husband dropped her off and said he would leave her if she didn’t complete the program. She’s been alternating between tears and vomit all night long.”
“Drug of choice?”
“Alcohol,” Kaitlin said, and we both dramatically made a face.
There were a lot of harsh drugs that people came into our facility addicted to, but alcohol was one of the scariest. It embedded itself into the cells of the user and the withdrawal could actually kill a person. Luckily, we hadn’t had anyone who had gone through such bad withdrawals that they had died, but we had needed to send people to the emergency room before.
“I’ll keep my eye on her,” I promised.
The nurse for the morning walked in and Kaitlin went to give her report on the patients. I stood at the nursing station and looked out over the unit. It certainly was calmer in the early morning hours. Maybe I should give overnights a try sometime.
As the sun finally started to come up, the unit got busier and busier. I ended up in Brianna’s room for most of the morning. She was sick, really sick. I felt so bad for her as she continued to vomit time and time again. The doctor ended up running late and said he wouldn’t be there until around noon.
I gathered cool compresses, helped her take a shower, even sat with her curled up in bed and read to her in an effort to get her mind off of things. Alcohol withdrawals could be really bad, and I had a hard time watching others go through them.
“Tell me about your family,” I said as we sat on her bed.
“My husband, Greg, is so kind. I know it doesn’t seem like it because he left me here. But he loves me. We met in high school and had our three babies one after another. His father owns one of the ski resorts in town,” she said as she paused to sip her Gatorade.
“Oh, my parents manage a resort in town,” I added as we talked.
She didn’t really have the energy to respond to my input, but she did continue to tell me about her kids. Brianna wasn’t looking good at all, and as soon as I got her to fall asleep again, I was going to page Mr. March so he could put some pressure on the doctor. I really thought the doctor needed to come see her.
“Aubrey is my oldest; she’s five years old and loves to dance. Adrian is my middle child and horses are her favorite. Anna is my two-year-old and she’s really into princess…”
Suddenly, Brianna started to shake and her muscles tightened. She was having a seizure. I had been trained to handle these, and luckily, I remembered exactly what to do and I started to get her secured while I yelled for help.
“Help!” I screamed as I gently helped her down to the ground and rolled her onto her side. “Help!”
Erik was the first one into the room, and he grabbed her toothbrush and put it between her teeth as she continued to seize. I knew not to get in her way, but only make sure she was safe and wouldn’t hit any furniture, so I kept my hands in front of the bedpost and sat near her until her body stopped convulsing.
“How do I call an ambulance?” Erik asked. “Do I have to dial a number to get out?”
“There’s a blue button under the nurses’ station. Push it; the operator will ask what’s going on. They’ll send the doctor and call 911 for you. Where’s the nurse at?”
Just then Margaret came running into the room. I didn’t get to work with her very often, and I was already very unimpressed at how long it had taken her to get to our emergency.
“I was giving meds. How long has she been seizing?”
“Maybe 30 seconds or so.” I really didn’t know. Time seemed to be standing still.
“Her chart said she was drinking a fifth of vodka daily. I bet she lied about that. Go wait at the back door for the ambulance. They’re going to need to get in here quickly.”
Officer Pinter was running onto the unit as I went to the back door to wait. He was a police officer and had first aid skills much better than mine, so I felt a little relieved to have the nurse and him in the room with Brianna.
“Get the defibrillator, she doesn’t have a pulse,” I heard Margaret yell as Mr. March came running onto the unit.
Mr. March didn’t hesitate at all and ran behind the nurses’ station to grab the black, soft-sided box mounted on the wall. Erik moved out of the way but stayed standing behind the counter as Mr. March rushed passed. He had probably just reached the 911 operator by then; it was going to be at least five minutes before an ambulance would arrive.
My hands started to shake, and I leaned against the wall as I tried to listen to what was going on and watch out the window for the ambulance all at the same time. She had to be okay. She had a husband and a family. There were so many people in her life who loved her. I started to cry. If they were using the defibrillator, things were more serious than any patient we had ever had on our unit.
“She’ll be okay,” I heard Erik say as he came and stood next to me and watched out the window for the ambulance as I slumped down to the ground and put my hands over my eyes. “They know what they’re doing. She will be okay,” he continued as he tried to reassure me.
Erik was talking quietly, and I wasn’t sure if he was reassuring himself or me. Brianna’s room was filled with people and I couldn’t hear what was happening over all of their voices. I was scared. Terrified, really. She was my age. Sure, she had a much different life than me; she was married with three kids, but Brianna was only twenty-four years old. She couldn’t die. She just couldn’t.
Erik grabbed one of the nurses to open the door and then held it as the ambulance pulled right up to the building. They had all their gear ready and looked serious as they rushed inside.
“Room two,” he said as he pointed to Brianna’s room.
The other medic pulled the stretcher out of the vehicle and brought it into the hallway. I was terrified. Brianna wasn’t someone I knew well and I obviously didn’t know her enough to love her. But there were people who loved her; there were three little girls who would forever grow up without a mother if Brianna died. I couldn’t take the thought of it.
Within a couple of minutes, the stretcher was being wheeled out and one medic was delivering chest compressions while the other and Officer Pinter pushed the gurney out to the ambulance. Her skin was pale and grayish in color. I feared she was gone and slid back down to the ground in tears. I had never seen a dead person before.
My emotions were so raw at the possibility that I had done something wrong. If I had called the doctor sooner, maybe she would have been all right. The guilt was eating me alive.
For nearly a half of an hour after Brianna was taken away, the unit was quiet. Everyone sat in the day area or in their rooms. Anytime the phone rang, we anxiously thought it was news about her. Even Mr. March sat with us as we contemplated what had just happened.
This young, vibrant mother of three had been brought to our facility in a last ditch effort to get help. Her husband had feared for his wife’s wellbeing and threatened to leave her if she didn’t get help. So, she had reluctantly agreed to be admitted. But had it been too late? Had the lies she told about her usage amount caused her to risk her life even more than she had been?
Many people didn’t understand how dangerous withdrawals from alcohol really were. On admission, our staff always tried to get honest answers from people, but alcoholics and drug addicts weren’t the most honest of people. If a potential patient reported drinking too much alcohol, we required them to detox at the local hospital; it was the safest place to be if something bad happened. But there was no way to know for sure if someone was lying about how much they drank.
“You were great this morning,” I said to Erik as I went and sat at his table with him and Brad.
“He was a fucking rock star,” Brad added. “Seriously, dude, if I was ever dying, I’d totally want it to be around you.”
“I think that was a compliment,” Erik said as he looked at me and we both laughed.
Brad was a funny fellow. One minute he was joking, the next he was telling you how horrible something was. I always had to take a minute and process what he was saying just to make sure he wasn’t actually saying something horrible to me. I tried not to take offense though, even when he was a bit horrible; it was just his personality.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“That was scary as hell, though. I really hope she’s all right,” Erik added.
“I know. She’s got a husband and three little girls. I could tell she loved them so much. I hope someone called them.”
“Yeah, I heard Mr. March call her husband,” Brad added.
“Life is so short. I mean, seriously. Any one of us could be killed in an accident. It’s stupid all the shit we do to risk our lives even more than natural selection does,” I said.
No one responded to my statement, but I could tell both of the guys were thinking about it. Addiction was a terrible disease. So many people in the world thought it was a choice, but I knew better. Not only from my own life, but by watching what had just happened with Brianna. There was no way she wanted to leave her precious children and die. She didn’t drink because she wanted to. There was an addiction that had a hold of her so deeply that it was taking away everything that she held dear to her heart. I closed my eyes and held my hands together as I said a little prayer for Brianna to make it through the day.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Erik praying, as well as Brad. It was all we could do. There was nothing else we could offer Brianna as she fought as hard as she could to live through her addiction.