Recovery Journal: Day Forty-Five
I think the goal of rehab is to empower me.
To make me feel strong enough to go back out into the world.
They’re reteaching me practical skills, like tying my shoes and dressing myself. They’re even trying to help me cope with the changes in my body and how to embrace them.
But all I see is a broken man.
All I see is one arm where there used to be two.
All I feel is frustration where there used to be none.
All I see is a failure where there used to be so much more.
My brother says it will all be better once I come home.
“Let’s get you home and get you settled back into a routine. Get you back in your old life.”
What old life?
What old routine?
The only way I could go back would be if I had the old me to return with. The one with two hands and a lifetime of possibilities. He died out on that ferry, and all that’s left is this new version of me.
Whoever that is.
So, how do I move forward in an old life with old routines when I’m not even me anymore?
“So, you’ve got everything packed?” my mom asked for the tenth time as she was busy making her famous shrimp and grits.
It was a beautiful fall Sunday afternoon, and since I’d been doing an impressive job of getting out of weekly dinners the last few Sundays to spend time with Lizzie and Cora, Mom had tracked me down early today, showing up at my door the minute church was out and demanding mother-son time.
“Yes, Mom,” I said. “I’m all packed.”
“Extra socks?” she asked, helping herself to just about everything in my fridge. “I’ve heard it’s hot in Texas this time of year, so extra socks are always—”
“I’ve got plenty of socks.” I laughed. “Really, I’ve got this.”
She made a pout and an exasperated huff in front of the stove before turning toward me. “I’m just trying to help. You know, you can ask me for it every once in a while.”
Oh, boy, here it came.
“I mean, I’m a good mom, right?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“And I deserve to know things.”
“Yes, Mama,” I said, rubbing her shoulders as the drama began.
We’d already had this conversation at least twice. This would make it the third.
“Finding out your son has a girlfriend from the owner of the coffee shop? That’s just not right, Dean. And then to not be able to invite her over for supper?”
I suppressed the eye roll that was forming. “I know. But it just sort of happened. And I don’t know that we’re calling each other girlfriend and boyfriend yet.”
She made a disgruntled sound in the back of her throat, turning back to the stove to tend to her onions. “Well, in my time, if you were spotted kissing in public, that meant something.”
I smiled, running my hand through my hair as I remembered that day.
We’d been out for a walk with Lizzie, enjoying some cooler temperatures, and happened to stop by the coffee shop. I thought I was being discreet, but I forgot where I was.
In a small town like Ocracoke, there was no such thing as discreet when you were out in public.
By noon the next day, the whole town had known we were “an item,” as my mother would say. And, although we hadn’t put a label on what was happening between us, hearing my mom call Cora my girlfriend had me grinning like a damn fool.
But I’d been doing that a lot lately.
It had been two weeks since our first date, and every moment since, I felt like I was flying.
“It does mean something,” I said finally. “It means a lot, Mama.”
I could see a small smirk forming as she turned to grab something from the fridge. “Well, good. ’Cause a single mom like that deserves a good boy like you.”
“She’s been through a lot,” I said, taking the place to the right of her. It used to be my spot, where I’d always be on Sunday afternoon. Mama’s little helper—or big helper when I had gotten taller than her. But then I had come home from the hospital, and Sunday night dinners had kind of fallen apart.
My brother had gotten too busy, and I’d become too self-involved in my misery to help her.
“What if I can’t be the man she needs me to be?” I asked, picking up the knife she’d been using to chop the vegetables.
I held it over some of the leftover garlic cloves and tried to chop one. The garlic clove went flying across the room. My mother smiled, taking my hand and steadying it, helping me go through the motions.
“Then, you learn,” she said. “And you become the man she needs. Life is all about growth, Dean. Growing as a person, a couple.” She paused. “A family.”
“I’ve failed our family these last few years,” I said, placing the knife down as I turned to face her.
“No,” she replied. “We’ve failed each other. And, now, perhaps it’s time we look at fixing that.” She gave me a little wink as she reached up to fix my hair, something she’d been doing since I was a kid. “Growth,” she pressed. “But, first, you have a cowboy hat to buy.”
I laughed. “Actually, I’ve been told this family is more into lightsabers.”
“Lightsabers, huh? Well, it’s a good thing I’m a hoarder,” my mom said before grabbing my hand. “I might have just the thing.”
At least I had time to shut off the stove before she hauled me toward the front door.
“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Cora said, reaching for my hand as we waited in line at the docks the night before our flight.
I swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”
The warmth of her fingers wove with mine. “You know, someone once told me that the word fine is really just what people say when they’re actually not. Or something like that. I could be paraphrasing.”
I looked over at her, taking a deep breath. “That sounds like something Molly would say. She’s suddenly become very wise, like her mother, since Jake came back.”
“Dean, are you going to throw up?” Lizzie asked from the backseat, sounding very concerned.
“No,” I assured her. “I’m okay. Really.” My eyes stared out into the dark water as I felt the trepidation coiling in my gut.
“We should have flown to the airport,” Cora said, the worry loud and clear in her voice. “I should have thought this through.”
“Let’s talk about something else,” I pleaded as we lurched ahead, the signal given to load up.
“Sure, of course,” Cora said, driving forward.
I desperately tried to ignore the way my heart was trying to leap out of my chest or how sour my stomach felt. The moment the car inched onto the ferry, I felt a surge of panic and a desperate need to turn back.
The one and only other time I’d been on the thing, I’d been heavily sedated. My mom, too, had offered to fly me home, but having just come out of several months of rehab and a hospital stay where I’d basically been taken care of like a small child, asking my mother to pay for a plane to take me home because I was too terrified to step onto a ferry was something I couldn’t do.
So, I’d endured it.
Medicated, that is.
Today, I was completely sober.
And completely miserable.
“I’ve been making a list of all the movies I’m going to watch with Pappy,” Lizzie said behind me. “Do you want to hear them?”
I nodded. “Sure,” I managed to squeak out.
“Okay, so first, there is A New Hope and then The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, followed by The Phantom Menace and—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said. “You’re watching them out of order.”
“What?”
I turned to Cora, who was busy following directions to the correct parking spot on the ferry. I turned away, trying to stay focused on Lizzie. “The Phantom Menace is the first one. You’ve got to watch that one first.”
“But it didn’t come out first,” she said.
I smiled weakly, feeling pretty proud of myself for knowing something Lizzie Ashcroft didn’t. It was a rarity.
“No, it didn’t. It’s actually the fourth, but it is the first, if you go by order.”
“That doesn’t make any—”
“Just trust me, kid. I was a pretty big Star Wars nerd when I was younger.”
“Really?” Cora asked, her interest piqued.
“Yep,” I said, still looking down at my hands to avoid the windows. To avoid the water.
“I have a feeling I would have liked Dean Sutherland the teenager.”
I tried my best at a laugh. “I have a feeling you’ve met him on occasion. Stuttering, dopey kind of guy.”
“Oh, yes, right—him. Yeah, I like him.” I could hear a smile in her words.
“I actually brought some of my Star Wars comics. My mom saved them; can you believe that?”
“Yes, I can. If she’s anything like mine, she’s saved just about everything, short of the thumbtacks you used. Make sure you show those to my dad. That might help win him over.”
“You mean, it might help lessen the shock that the man he thinks you’ve been happily married to for the last seven years is a—” my eyes found Lizzie’s in the rear-view mirror and I caught myself from saying anything more.
“Yeah, right—that.” She paused for a moment. It was one of those heavy pauses, and I knew she was debating on what to say next.
“Hey, do you happen to watch Doctor Who? Go to Comic-Con? Or maybe you’re a closet Potterhead?”
Of all the things she could have said, I didn’t expect that.
I couldn’t help the smirk that spread across my face. “I literally have no idea what you just said.”
She laughed and patted me on the leg. “Well, we will just have to work with what we have then.”
“And what would that be?” I asked.
“Your charming good looks and the fact that you adore me.”
Lizzie giggled in the background as I looked deep into Cora’s eyes, realizing they’d done a pretty good job of distracting me. Because any Star Wars geek knew the order in which to watch the movies.
Well played, evil genius. Well played.
“Yes, I do,” I answered, forgetting all about the sea and the dark grasp it had on my heart as they both continued to divert my attention for the next full hour until we were back on solid ground.
“Wake up.” Cora’s panicked voice rang through the darkness, causing me to bolt upright. “We’re late!”
I shook my head, taking a quick look around as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. A light flipped on as Cora ripped a very sleepy Lizzie from the bed next to me.
Double beds, a cheesy beach motif. Hotel. We were in a hotel.
It was all starting to come back to me.
I looked down at the clock on the nightstand that separated me from the girls.
“Shit!” I cursed, causing a still very sleepy Lizzie to giggle from the bathroom.
“Dean said a bad word.”
Jumping out of bed, I threw on the clothes I’d pulled out of my suitcase the night before and did my best attempt at a hasty dressing.
Cora came out of the bathroom just as I finished buttoning my jeans, a toothbrush in her mouth as she threw clothes at Lizzie, who was beginning to understand the situation. Mommy was not messing around.
“It’s only half an hour, right?” she mumbled while she brushed. “We can make it up on the road.”
“Yep,” I assured her, struggling to pull my shirt over my head, but it wouldn’t budge.
She ran into the bathroom and returned a moment later to help me.
“I’m fine. Really. I am just not usually this rushed,” I snapped.
She averted her gaze, turning her attention to Lizzie.
I let out a giant breath as I finished getting dressed. Walking toward her, I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I said. “My frustration wasn’t aimed toward you.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, her attention still focused on getting Lizzie dressed. “Because this is me, Dean. Late and unorganized. I mess up first days of school and have random outbursts about bad driving. I sleep in when I’m not supposed to, and I don’t take directions well,” she confessed. “And I need…” She let out a deep breath as she finished Lizzie’s hair. She knelt down and whispered for her to go pack up her things. Turning to me with those deep brown eyes, she said, “I need someone who is going to love me. All of me. The good, the bad, and everything in between. I’ve already had one man try to change me into something I wasn’t, and it cost me nearly everything.”
“Well, let’s make a deal,” I suggested, looking at the clock before adding, “a quick one because we’ve really got to go. How about we agree to accept each other at face value, right here, in this shitty hotel room? I’ll always let you be you—the sometimes unorganized but always involved mother with the heart of gold—and you let me be the smart, sexy ex-fisherman who loves you.”
Her eyes widened, glistening with emotion. “Deal,” she said, her voice heavy and hoarse.
I didn’t know how long we stood there, staring at one another. Too long probably, but neither of us wanted to break the spell I’d cast with my words.
“Um, Mommy? Plane?” Lizzie said.
We both blinked. A wide smile spread across my face as we each turned to see her standing by the door with her luggage neat and tidy at her side.
“Right,” Cora said, “plane.”
She turned to me, her face full of happiness and joy, and I couldn’t help myself.
“One more second, Lizzie,” I said, pulling her mom toward me.
Our noses bumped together, and she laughed as our eyes met once more. This time, I didn’t need to say it.
She knew.
Bending down, I kissed her.
And I heard fireworks.
And the cheers of one happy little girl.