Page 36 of A Second Chance

Nurse Lorraine reminds me of Kathy Bates. Lorraine didn't coddle me when I first arrived at the hospital. She's like a fucking drill sergeant. But the last few days, she looked after me and encouraged me to return to painting.

"Alright, Scar. Let's get this over with." Lorraine lays the paperwork out in front of me."This is the summary of the care you received. This page lists all your medication, which you will continue to take even if you don'tfeel like it." She gives me a stern look.

I nod and smile while she continues. "This is your safety plan, and finally, this is your after-care plan. Make sure you schedule an appointment with the therapist listed here within thirty days. She will be the only person who can refill your medication."

She places the paperwork in a folder and hands it to me. "And here are your medications." She gives me a bag full of pills.

"Scar." I look up to Lorraine.

Her smile is genuine.

As I watch her, it is almost as if a veil has been lifted, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerability and emotion she has been hiding beneath a façade of indifference. It is the first time I have seen her let go of her guard and allow herself to be seen as she is.

She places a hand on my arm. "It's important you stick to a routine, Scar. Make sure you take your pills at the same time every day. Remember, once you stop taking them, you'll—"

"Lose my shit. I know," I interrupt her, keeping my head down, staring at the little orange bottles in the bag that are supposed to keep my inner demon locked away.

"Relapse and you’ll end up back here, or worse," she finishes, stepping back and clasping her hands in front of her.

I give her a nod of understanding.

"Let's go. Your mom's waiting." She waits for me to walk ahead of her. I reach down and grab my suitcase. I didn't bring much when I arrived. I am wearing the same clothes I had on the day I was admitted. Red plaid pants, crop black Queen hoodie showing my midriff. We reach the first floor, and a few nurses and orderlies who looked after me stand in front of the desk holding balloons and a personal-sized cake.

"What is this?" I ask Lorraine, who walks beside me with a big ass smile.

"This, Scar, is your farewell parade."

"Good luck, Scar!"

"You can do this!"

"Go get 'em, girl."

"You got this, baby girl."

After hugging all my new friends goodbye, I notice Mom standing a few feet away by the front door. She looks nervous, the way she's fiddling with her hands.I wasn't allowed visitors during the first two weeks of treatment as part of the rehabilitation process. I felt cut off from the outside world. I tried to stay positive and focus on my recovery, but the loneliness and isolation began to take a toll on me. I missed the sound of my mom and Gem's laughter and the comfort of being in their presence. I longed to hear their voices, but it seemed as though the hospital walls were keeping them apart from me.

She's wearing a long multi-color bohemian dress with taupe sandals.Her toenails are painted a light blush color to match her dress.

She's even wearing that crazy hat I hate so much.

"Hi, sweetheart," Mom says as she pulls me in for a hug. I reciprocate, wrapping my arms around her and taking in her flowery scent.

"I've missed you so much." Her voice cracks.

"I missed you too, Mom."

I say my last goodbyes and follow Mom to her car. The ride on the way home is quiet—only the sound of the radio in the background can be heard.

It's a beautiful day.The temperature is in the high seventies, with a few clouds in the sky. The sun is brighter and warmer than most days. It hits the crystal pendant hanging from the rearview mirror, revealing a kaleidoscope of rainbow colors. After thirty minutes of excruciating silence, Mom pulls the car into the driveway.The house looks the same as when I left, but it almost feels different.

We live in a single-family-style home in a typical suburb. The oak front door makes the slate gray siding stand out. The rose bush Seth helped me plant has grown taller since I last saw it.

Mom shuts the ignition off and turns to face me. I can sense how nervous she is without looking at her.

"Scar, how are you?"

I am sick of being asked this question.How the hell do you think I'm doing?

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