Page 142 of Learning Curve

“Don’t do this, Scottie,” I beg as she pushes the call light at the side of her bed to get a nurse. “I know you feel like everything is completely fucked right now. And that’s valid. It’s so valid. But don’t push me away.” I reach for her hand again, but she uses it to reach out and swing at me.

My throat is thick with pain and devastation, but I know this is just the hurt talking. She’s lost all sense of control, but making me leave is something she can still do. I don’t want to go, but I know she needs the victory. I know she needs to make something happen on her own just as much as I need her to know I won’t go away forever.

“I love you,” I tell her even as the nurse comes running into the room. “I love you, and I’ll never stop. Do you hear me?”

She shakes her head, angry crying as the nurse tries to help, and then yells out again. “Get him out of here! Now!”

I hold up both of my hands as the nurse comes toward me, my last line of defense officially exhausted. “I’m leaving.”

Scottie’s face screws up on itself as she tries to fight the way I know she feels about me deep down inside.

She wants space. She needs time.

And I don’t fucking want to, but I need to respect it.

Pushing through Wren and the nurse, I approach Scottie’s bedside one last time and force her chin up to meet my eyes again. “I love you, Scottie. One day, you’re going to realize just how much. I might be walking out of this room because I get that that’s what you need, but I’m not fucking going anywhere. So, push me away if you want. But I’ll be back.”

Friday April 18th

Scottie

“We’re all set to get you transferred this afternoon,” Dr. Stewart updates, and his nurse Maureen sets down a few pieces of paper on my bedside table.

“Scottie, you’ll just need to read and sign these affidavits, okay?” the nurse explains. “These give Med-I-Vac permission to take over your care during transport.”

I don’t even bother reading the forms. I just sign on the dotted line.

“I bet you’re ready to get back home,” Dr. Stewart says, a friendly smile cresting his lips. “I’ve already spoken with Dr. Hurst over at St. Luke’s, and they’re up to speed on your treatment plan.” He gently squeezes my shoulder. “You’re going to be in good hands, Scottie.”

“Thank you.” My voice is pathetically monotone, not at all matching the exuberance that Dr. Stewart and Nurse Maureen are showing. But that’s probably because I don’t have anything to be excited about.

Sure, I’m heading back to New York, but nothing about my life is going to be like it used to be.

I won’t get to walk into my dorm room or attend classes. I’m going to be stuck in the hospital for at least another four weeks, and possibly up to eight, depending on how my rehabilitation goes.

“Mr. Bardeaux, you have my number.” Dr. Stewart looks over at my dad. “Don’t hesitate to use it if you have any questions or concerns.”

“Thank you so much, Doc,” my dad responds and follows him and Nurse Maureen out of my hospital room. My guess is there’s more paperwork for my dad to sign. More exorbitant medical bills that he has to say he’ll pay, even though he probably can’t cover all the bills I’ve already racked up in Daytona.

I’m starting to hate myself for how much additional stress I’ve just added to his life.

Wren sits down on the edge of my bed. “You okay?”

I shrug.

“You do know that you can be honest with me, right?” Her eyes implore mine. “Whatever you’re feeling. Whatever you’re thinking. You can tell me.”

I know she’s being kind. I know she’s being supportive. But I don’t think she wants her head filled up with the heavy shit that’s running through my mind.

“It’s going to be okay, Scottie,” she says and leans forward to hug me. “You are surrounded by people who love and support you. And you’re strong. Even if you don’t feel like it right now, you are.”

Being surrounded by people who love and support me is a fact. The problem with that is that I don’t want to have to put anyone in that situation. I don’t want my dad and my sister missing work shifts. I didn’t want Finn to miss classes. And I definitely don’t want anyone to have to change their life around to accommodate me.

I look toward the window, staring out at the sky. The sun is shining bright, and it’s a stark contrast to the darkness that resides in my head. I’m weak. So fucking weak.

“Finn is still here.” Wren’s words pull my attention back to her. “He’s in the waiting room. He’s been in the waiting room ever since you told him to leave.”

What can I even say to that? I told him to go back to New York two days ago. I don’t know why he hasn’t left yet.

---