Definition of Normal; DISCONTINUED

Chapter 19

I was horrified. He really said those things about me? I know I can be a drama queen at times, but damn. I guess you don't really know a person until you really get to know them.

Talia apologized again, leaving out why she lied about sleeping with Parker.

Why did you lie? Is all I wanted to ask her. The words crept to my tongue, but they never came out.

"Talia, I get it, your sorry, okay. Stop repeating it."

"Why? I thought you wanted an apology?"

"I said I wanted an apology. Not dozens all at once." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm trying I'm trying I'm trying. I'm trying not to punch you in the face. I want to be your friend. You are a being a big bitch right now, Jasmine. Get the hell over being in a wheelchair, get the hell over Parker. No one feels sorry for you anymore." Talia walked off, leaving me speechless. I am definitely over being in a wheelchair, and I'm definitely, over Parker.

~

I arrived home around three, my dad and my brother were out, even though it was a snow day. I didn't mind, I needed to be alone. I needed to think.

The phone rang hours later, and I didn't recognize the number.

Me: Hello?

Official sounding person: Is this Jasmine Pennbrook?

Me: Uh, yeah, and this is?

Official sounding person: Its St. John's Hospital. Your boyfriend is here, asking me to call you.

Me: Who? I don't have a boyfriend.

Official Person: Oh, um, okay. His name is Parker. Does that ring a bell?

Me: UGH. Why the hell is he there?

Official Person: He got beat up, cops got called, some kind of drug thing, he got banged up pretty bad. Could you come down here to pick him up?

Me: No. He doesn't need me. Call someone in his phone named Talia. She's the perfect person.

Then I hung up the phone. I was right he didn't need me, he lied to me, again. Talia can tend to his every need. I'm not the person anymore. I want to go back to hating Parker, and that shouldn't be that hard, now should it?

I fell asleep soon after the call. I didn't lie awake wondering if he was okay, I didn't care if Talia was there or not, because quite frankly, I DONT CARE.

~

I woke up around 6, and school got cancelled for the rest of the week due to a bug infestation- gross. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.

"St. Johns Hospital, how may we assist you?"

"Hi, yes, id like to set up a physical therapy session for today at four?"

The process of making an appointment took a long time. It annoyed me, and they told me everything was good. I hung up the phone, and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a dirty blonde, shoulder length wavy mess. I threw on a red shirt, jeans and my black vans and rolled aimlessly down the ramp.

"DAD!" I screamed.

"What? What is it? Are you okay?" He yelled, his body under a blue robe and his hair all bushy.

"Yea, sorry. Can you take me to therapy today?"

"Sure, what time?"

"Four."

"Okay"

I out waited the long hours of doing nothing. I have never been so bored in my life. When four o'clock finally rolled around, I was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital.

"Jasmine Pennbrook?" The doctor said aloud. I raised my hand and came up to him, then followed him into his tiny office.

"So, are you ready?" Was the first thing he asked me. Not a 'How are you,' or a 'Have you had a good day,' or even the simplest of all greetings, 'Hello.'

"Sure, yeah, whatever."

We came into the room, which was mostly empty, like last time. Those crutch-like things still stood in the corner as if no one had even touched them. The doctor sat down in a chair.

I hesitantly rolled over by the crutches, looking over at the doctor like I was clarifying if he really wanted me to do this. He nodded his head, and pointed back toward the walking things. I reached the middle of a stick, and stuck my forearm inside the plastic cuff, which was small. I did the same with the other stick. The doctor got up and pushed on my back to help me up. Apparently I had regained very slight feeling in my legs, so I was able to move them a fraction of an inch.

I was now standing, my knees were bent, and my toes were touching the floor. All my weight was supported by the two sticks.

"Go on." The doctor stated, motioning his hand forward.

"Are y-you sure about this?" My voice cracked.

"Yes." He stated. I was lifting up the left stick, and boom, I feel face first, and I hit my head on the tile.

"Oh my gosh! Are you okay?" He asked, running towards me. He leaned down to help me, but I swatted his hand away.

"Stop, I can get up myself. I knew I wasn't ready! I didn't want to yet! I hate when people push me to do things." I snapped.