Allyson In Between ✔︎

Chapter Twenty-Three | Part 2

| photo by Keagan Henman from Unsplash |

"Lindsay wanted to tell me that she answered Noah's call that day," I tell Dad. "It's been killing her not to—but Mom forced her keep the secret. She was so focused on protecting me that she couldn't see how it was destroying Lindsay to hold in all that guilt."

"No, Allyson," Dad says, instantly defensive. "No parent wants to be in the position to have to choose the well-being of one child over another. But when one of those children is especially vulnerable, you have to protect the one who needs it the most."

"I know that. I'm not blaming Mom. She didn't know what the guilt was doing because Lindsay kept it hidden from everyone but me. She smoked pot right in front of me the day I left Faircrest—and I knew about her crush on Drew, but I didn't tell anyone. I'm blaming me, Dad. All of this is my fault."

The nurse knocks as she pushes through the door. And I'm pretty sure she heard what I said because her "smile" is a grimace with slightly lifted corners. She examines my IV port—the tape is spotted with blood—and sucks her tongue against her teeth to let me know she disapproves of the mess I've made.

And she's right—more than she can possibly know. Every single thing I've done since I left Faircrest has been wrong—including my decision to leave in the first place. Dr. Greene wasn't convinced that I was emotionally prepared to make the transition, and she was right, I was holding back. I never told her about the scary text from Samantha. But I should have. I should've asked my therapist to help me deal with my feelings.

"Your release papers have been signed," the nurse says. She waits for me to make eye contact before she turns to Dad. "Do I need to send Dr. Shah back in to reevaluate?"

"No, thank you. We're ready to go home."

"All right then," she says, perky again. "A follow-up appointment with Dr. Dabney has been scheduled for next week. Your wife has the details. You can go ahead and bring your car around to the covered walkway. I'll get a wheelchair and we'll meet you at the door."

Dad nods, but he doesn't move. He watches with unfocused eyes while the nurse extracts the gigantic needle from the angry hole in my arm. "Hold this for me, hon," she says, pressing a cotton ball over my bleeding wound. I secure it with two fingers while she peels a strip of medical tape off the roll.

The ripping sound seems to jolt Dad out of his mini trance. He digs into his pocket and comes up with my purple phone. "Your mom promised Samantha you'd check in with her," he says, touching it to my palm. I close my fist, he gives me a smile that's probably meant to be reassuring and walks out of the room.

Nurse Chirpy tapes an X over the cotton ball. Then she lowers the bedrail and offers a hand to help me sit up. "How does that feel?" she asks. "Any dizziness, nausea?"

Dizziness, no. Nausea, yeah—but it's not because of the medicine. "I'm fine," I say.

She doesn't recognize my lie. She just gives me a satisfied smile and says, "Stay put. I'll be back in a flash with your wheelchair."

The moment she turns away, I wake up my phone. There's a text bubble hovering over my lock screen. Three purple hearts followed by the words: I'm here when and if you need me.

I do need Samantha, and I want to tell her—that, and so much more. But I don't have the energy to find those words. I unlock the phone and scroll back through her thread, past all those hearts. She must send purple because it was my favorite color. I'll have to let her know that's changed—once I figure out my new favorite. I search through the list of emojis and send Samantha three pink hearts to match her umbrella.