The Truths Behind the Life of Maeve Sun Lively

107

I HAVEN'T GOTTEN THE TIME to talk to my uncle alone when one of the surgeons in scrubs came out of the double white doors.

The four of us all leaped to our feet before he could even pull down his mask.

"Is she okay?" Carlise asked before any of us. I glanced at her, how her eyes already started to tear, yet with a strong hope and trust in them that only resembled sincereness. Anyone can see that she loves Rosalie more than anything.

I hear my uncle's heavy breath behind me, along with the small ranting I can feel Sarah is about to start. Time goes, stops, then goes again. We sigh in relief when the surgeon nods.

"We've cleared the substances out of her system now, so she should be safe."

Carlise gasps, those tears held in burst out, but in forms of joy. She pulls me into a tight hug, saying again and again; "Thank you, thank you, thank you." I feel the tensions in my shoulders—that I haven't realized that were there until the surgeon is in front of us, carrying news that is life or death—drops and disperse.

Before any celebration happens, the surgeon gives us a look that holds us back into place. His eyes are only signs of worry.

"What's wrong?" Carlise's arms around me release.

"We've sedated her for now." The surgeon sighs, giving the four of us each a glance before dropping his gaze back on Carlise. "The reports given to us for her physical showed that it was an obvious drug overdose, if not already clear when we performed the surgery. But further more than that, my coworkers and I suspect that she might have been a long time user for alcohol."

"Are you trying to say she's an alcoholic?" Carlise asks, her voice now with a sharp edge to it.

The surgeon remains calm, unaffected by her. "What I'm saying is that I think rehab is a considerable option right now."

Carlise takes a step forward to him. Behind me, Jackson is already reaching a hand toward his daughter's arm to stop a brewing outburst. But the opposite is with Sarah, who has a tough look to her eyes as she takes a step up with her daughter.

Now, there was a tinge of a frown and frustration to the surgeon's expression. "Rehab isn't just for the use of alcohol for the patient. We're suggesting that maybe after her full physical recovery, some therapy and rehab together will help her. I've seen many suicidal patients and my full advice is always—"

The dam breaks.

"You do not get to tell us what to do about Rosalie! She's not an alcoholic! Okay, she might be a little fragile at times but she's not broken! She's not...suicid-...suicidal...okay?"

My uncle pulls Carlise back at last, and she hugs him tightly, suddenly looking like a ten year old girl. He strokes her back, and exchanging a look with Sarah, he leads her away.

Sarah, confident and with resolve, gives me a reassured nod. She looks back at the surgeon.

"Okay. We'll consider all of it. But that will all be after her recovery, like you already mentioned, correct?" She crosses her arms over her chest, and I almost gape just to wonder how she can be so put together and strong in times like this. "So I'd really like it if you could show us to where she is right now. Can you do that?"

Just like earlier, the surgeon doesn't show much of a reaction. He simply nods. "Alright. You can find all the resources if you ask a nurse or doctor."

"Thank you," Sarah smiles, all teeth.

The surgeon starts to lead us toward where Rosalie is. Sarah tilts her head back at me, giving me a thumbs up and a victorious grin. I feel myself smiling a little too.