The Worst Days of Our Lives

Chapter 12: Chance

Last time he woke up in the hospital, he had been disoriented and completely unaware of his surroundings. Now, as he opened his eyes lethargically against the fluorescent lights, he had no loss of memory or confusion. He remembered everything. The way the pills dug into the soft skin out the base of his throat, the smooth caress of her fingers on his skin, the way she begged him to stay with her. It was real, he knew it was. It had to have been, how else would he be alive?

Sitting up slowly, he looked around his room. No one was there, but outside the glass door, he could see Shelby and his father talking in what he would assume to be hushed whispers. Chance groaned inwardly as he remembered Shelby. She was gesturing with her hands wildly when she turned her head slightly and caught Chance’s eye. Her head began to turn back to Paul, Chance’s father, when she took a double take. She grabbed Father of Chance’s arm and pulled him forcefully through the door. “OHMIGOD Chance you’re alive I was so worried like you have no idea why would you I mean what happened I mean OH MY GOD.” Chance shut his eyes against the harshness and sheer volume of Shelby’s big mouth and held one sluggish hand up , hoping to silence her. It did not work as well as he had hoped. On and on she ranted about how this was the most dramatic thing she had ever been involved with, except for the party two weeks ago at the old fair grounds, of course. That was legendary.

When she finally announced she was hungry and left the room, Chance opened his eyes and took in his Dad’s appearance. His eyes were closed, face red, and fists clenched. “Dad?” Chance asked tentatively. “Dad, are you okay?” Paul’s eyes shot open and he lunged at Chance, grabbing hold of the hospital gown he was wearing and yanking him up. “Am I okay?? What kind of question is that?” He spit venomously into the face of his son. “Twice! Not once, but twice in less than a year, have I had to anxiously pray in a fucking hospital! Twice I have had be terrified that I was losing the only thing in this god forsaken life that even matters to me! Over what? Some girl?” Hearing Cass being referred to as ‘some girl’ was like swallowing bleach. He had loved her with everything he had, given her anything she could take, and when she left, she took every single thing he ever was with him. And yet, she was just ‘some girl’? Paul must’ve seen the look of hurt on Chance’s face because his own expression softened for but a moment, but the quickly his anger returned. He gripped Chance tighter and shook him roughly, “She’s gone, Chance! I know you thought you loved her but for fuck’s sake, you two fought all the time and were barely holding on to, what you called a relationship, as it was!  She is far away from you and everyone else that ever loved her, and she’s not coming back. It’s time you accept it like everyone else has.”

“Is everything okay in here?” The quiet voice of a nurse broke the calm that had kept Chance from reacting. Despite the throbbing pain in his stomach and the ache in all his muscles, he reached up and curled his fingers around his Dad’s wrists and applied all the force he could muster into a shove. He let go of his son, and took a step back and Chance looked his Dad straight in the eyes, “She is not some girl,” he began calmly but felt his voice rising as he continued. “She is still out there.” There was a quiver in his voice.

“But son-” his Dad attempted to interrupt but Chance had reached his limit. “No! Are you incapable of comprehending anything? What you and Mom had was nothing compared to what I felt for Cassandra. Mom didn’t want you, she left, it wasn’t Cassandra’s choice to leave.” His Dad looked as though he had been slapped but at this point, Chance no longer cared. His voice had risen in volume and he was shouting. Hospital staff were noticing the confrontation taking place and some began to move closer to the room in case they needed to intervene. “If you had ever given a damn about anyone else but yourself, you would understand that I need her, and a life without her in unbearable. I won’t live in a world without her.”

His Dad huffed for several minutes, probably attempting to form some sort of comeback in his mind, before he turned on his heels and quickly walked out of the room. He stopped in the doorway, though, and looked at his son. “You’d better call your mother, let her know you will be staying with her for now on.” And with that, he walked out of the room. Chance sighed and let himself fall back in the bed. The pain in his stomach was raging at this point and Chance regretted working himself up. He hadn’t spoken to his mom in almost a year. After Cassandra was taken, he hardly spoke to anyone. She hadn’t made any attempts to contact him but neither had he. He hoped she wouldn’t hold a grudge over him distancing himself from her.

 

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The hospital wouldn't begin any further processing until his Mom arrived, since he was only 17 years of age, even though he was a mere week away from being 18. She lived about an hour away from his Dad’s house, she had always been far more laid back then his Dad and more enjoyable to be around, but all of Chance’s friends were here and he had never wanted to leave. Until now, a change of scenery wouldn’t be such a bad thing. When she practically jogged into the room, she ran to his side and instantly began rushing around, checking for injuries.

“Mom, Mom.” Chance tried to get her attention but she was speaking quickly and he only got a few scarce words of what she was saying, all along the lines of ‘My baby is dying.’ When the doctor came in, she finally stopped freaking out and questioning him about every scratch that marked his skin. The doctor began questioning him of the events that lead up to his intentional overdose, asking him what he took and how many. All of this seemed pointless at this point, his stomach had already been pumped and he was no longer in danger, why was any of this pertinent.  “Your son will need to be evaluated for mental stability and we can recommend psychiatric help if necessary, after we are finished here, he will need to be supervised at all times.” He looked pointedly at my mother. She raised her eyebrows at the accusation that somehow this was her fault and opened her mouth before Chance quickly spoke up. “Is that all?” The doctor checked over his vitals and shook his head. “It doesn’t appear that you have any organ damage but we will need to have a follow-up to check and make sure. I’ll send in someone to administer the evaluation in a moment.” He nodded briefly at his mother and himself, then exited the room.

Two hours later, he was back in his hoodie and jeans, laying down in the back of his moms car as it gently bumped down the road. His mom was on the phone with Shelby, getting all the details of what happened. She and Chance had been ‘studying’ when he went off to the bathroom. She accidently fell asleep and when she woke up she had realized Chance wasn’t back. When she went to look for him, she saw his legs poking out of the doorway to the bathroom and quickly dialed 991, she didn’t know what was wrong so she tried to give him CPR but it didn’t work. Fortunately, the ambulance was there momentarily.

When they finally arrived at his Mother’s house, Chance was overcome with a wave of nostalgia. It had been quite some time since Chance had even set foot in this house. His mom would come up for visits every once in awhile, but he hardly came back to the house he grew up in.  It was small, but not tiny. Friendly, cozy, inviting. The house was a light blue, with white shutters and a white wrap-a-round porch. He remembered chasing their dog around the porch, in circles over and over again, for hours. Although it had only been maybe over a year since he had been up here, everything seemed different somehow, more vibrant than he remembered it being. The grass seemed greener, the trees more full, the red rocking chairs out front were practically glowing.

“None of your clothes are here so we will have to stop by your dads sometime soon so you can pack. In the meantime, you can wear some of Joseph's things.” Chance’s eyebrows went up. “Joseph?” His Mom waved her hand, as if brushing the matter off as unimportant. “Just some guy I’m seeing.” Chance rolled his eyes, if he had stuff here, he was no longer classified as ‘some guy’.

He rested a hand on his ribs as he climbed the stairs to his rib. Chance was still nauseous and sore, but there was nothing left to do besides take the very small amount of medicine they had provided him with. When he opened his door, and was shocked by what he saw. He had expected dust covered furniture and dingy old sheets. He assumed the state of chaos his room was always in would’ve remained untouched. This was not the case. Everything was put in it’s proper place and tucked in the closet out of sight. Chance’s camo sheets from his days of youth were folded neatly underneath the heavy black comforter. It appeared as though his mom regularly cleaned in here, because when he sat down, he had expected clouds of dust to erupt from the bed, but no such thing happened. When he leaned down to smell his bed, it was like sticking his nose into a bottle of laundry softener.

His mom had never been one to clean obsessively but by the looks of his old room, she must've taken it up. When he was finished pondering what his mom had been up to in the past couple of months, he stripped down to his boxers and crawled into the clean sheets. He only stared at the ceiling for a few moments before he was drifting hazily off to sleep.