23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Wes

I hate hospitals.

A cliché, I know, but these clichés exist for a reason. You are never at the hospital because it is a beautiful, sunny day and you wanted to go for a stroll. No, the only reason you willingly walk along these sterile hallways is because it’s a bad day. For someone you love.

I lead the march to the front desk, where a frazzled looking nurse is arguing with an elderly patron. “I’m sorry sir, the coffee machine in the waiting room is all we have. The coffee the nurses receive isn’t any better, I can assure you.”

The stooped man throws his hands up in exasperation, the white tuffs on his head swaying like dandelions in the breeze. Man, I can’t wait until my hair looks like that.

“Then where can I find a decent coffee around here?”

I clear my throat and gently tap the man’s cardigan-covered shoulder, “There’s a Tim’s right around the corner. Two-minute drive, ten-minute walk.”

Wispy eyebrows raise as the man takes in my lacrosse getup. His gaze shifts over to Stella and Trip’s smeared orange faces and hooks a thumb in our direction, “The costume freaks understand what I’m after. You were extremely unhelpful, miss, but thank you for your time.” The old man shuffles away, leaving the nurse gritting her teeth through a plastered smile.

I slide into his place with ease, “You handled that exceedingly well. Can’t be easy dealing with caffeine fiends 24/7.” The nurse breaks into a real smile and chuckles in agreement.

“Terrible coffee is everyone’s breaking point. We just made a new code in case of a coffee machine breakdown. It’s only happened once during my shift, and let’s just say, it took the entire nursing staff and four security guards to calm everyone down.” I let out a low whistle while Trip giggles softly behind me.

“I would have needed popcorn for high-quality entertainment. Coffee expertise aside, I was hoping you could point me in the right direction for my brother, Cody Ellsworth. He came in just a few minutes ago?” I flash her my dimples, hoping they will be enough to make her forget to check my ID.

“Sure thing, hon. Let me just check what room he’s in.” The nurse turns and types on her keyboard while I give Trip and Stella a subtle thumbs up over my shoulder.

“Oh, could I see your ID? Just want to make sure your family.”

My thumbs up must not have been so subtle after all.

I rest my elbows on the desk and motion the nurse to come closer. “Here’s the thing. I don’t actually share the same parents as Cody.” I pause, looking her deep in the eyes. “He’s my lacrosse brother.”

The nurse blinks back at me. I think she understands.

“You mean you… play on the same team?” I beam and gesture towards my jersey, “That’s right. Go Tigers!” The frown on her face tells me she’s not a Taber supporter.

I sigh, “Look, I know there are regulations for this kind of thing, but that’s my captain in there. He took a hard hit today and I just want to know if he’s okay. I need to know he’s okay.” My voice breaks and I feel Trip gently rub my back. Shit.

So much for no crying on game day.

The nurse gives me a small smile, “Room 211 is the one you’re looking for. It looks as though he’s in stable condition, but you’ll have to sit in the upper waiting room until he gets cleared for visitors. Family members get first priority.” She gives me a knowing look.

“Elevator is down the hall and to the left. Go on.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Blowing my saviour a kiss, I turn and follow Trip and Stella down the cream-coloured hallway.

The further we walk from the main entrance, the stronger the chemical smell becomes. I don’t have to describe the scent because you know exactly what I’m talking about: the signature hospital aroma. Soul crushing with a dash of despair thrown in for good measure.

“I see his room!” Stella races out of the elevator, dodging walkers and nurses at every turn. Skidding to a halt in front of the white door, Stella stands on her tip toes to peer inside the small rectangular window. Trip and I catch up just as she lets out a sob.

Trip wraps her roommate into a tight hug while I take a peek. My throat tightens as I take in the outline of my captain lying on the bed, face covered with an oxygen mask, tubes hooked up to beeping machines. I exhale through my nose, willingly myself to become the leader these girls need me to be.

I turn and face the duo, noting Stella’s inability to get control of herself. Lost in Trip’s embrace, she seems to be fighting and losing an inner battle as tears soak through Trip’s Green Day t-shirt. I quickly make an executive decision.

“Stella, let me call your brother and get him to take you girls home. There’s nothing you can do for Cody, and he wouldn’t want this for you.” The platinum pixie lifts her head just enough so I can see her glare.

“How do you know what Cody would want?” I sigh, readying myself to go head-to-head with another O’Brien. Two in one day, that’s pretty impressive if I do say so myself.

“You’re right. I don’t know what Cody would want. But I doknow he would hate to see you so distressed. He would want to make sure you’re taken care of, so please, Stella. Let me call your brother.” Swollen, bloodshot eyes meet mine. Stella’s small frame looks so fragile in Trip’s arms.

“Okay.” It takes me a second to register the agreement. Trip’s misty gaze meets mine in astonishment, as if she’s struggling to believe her stubborn roommate gave in so easily as well. I hold out my hand and after a moment’s hesitation, Stella unwinds herself from Trip’s embrace, handing me her phone.

I immediately step away in case she changes her mind and goes full attack-mode. I pull up Mo’s contact and take a deep breath. This is going to be ugly.

“Stel? Hey, I know you’re angry, but I just want to say…” I swiftly cut him off before any sibling bonding has the chance to occur, “It’s Wes.”

The pause at the end of the line tells me the message was received.

“I need you to come pick up Trip and Stella. We’re at the hospital and it’s not looking good. Cody’s in rough shape and your sister is not doing well.” I wait for the I-told-you-so to drop. He had wanted to take his sister home to rest in the first place.

“You’re at St. Catherine’s?” I nod, unable to sit still even though he can’t see me.

“Yes, we are.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” Mo hangs up and I stare at the cracked screen in my hand. He didn’t mention anything about being right, or our fight for that matter, his sister was top priority.

Now I know where Cody gets it from.

Lou

Silence. Tense, nail-biting silence. That sums up the car ride home.

The O’Brien siblings didn’t say a single word to each other the whole drive home, so I entertained myself with the sleek interior of Mo’s new Cadillac Escalade. I don’t know what Stella’s brother does for work, but whatever it is, it must pay really well. I can practically smell the cost of theses buttery leather seats, and it’s not in the single digits.

If I were to compare Wes’ car to a functioning escalator, one that creaks but still performs its basic function of moving people from one place to another then Mo’s vehicle would be the VIP, luxury elevator. The one that only the most prestigious can use, with its own private butler who presses the floor number button for you. Same function, different league.

Sorry, Lola.

As soon as Mo pulls to a stop, Stella leaps out of the vehicle, slamming the door in her wake. I try a more civilized approach with a mumbled thank you and hasty scramble to follow my roommate into our resident building.

Entering our dorm with a swipe of my access card, our ancient sofas and TV greet us as if nothing has changed. As if Cody isn’t lying in a hospital bed with tubes coming out of him. As if Stella hasn’t been hiding a secret from me this whole semester.

The latter thought hurts just as much as the former. Stella called me her sister, she told me we were family. Yet, she never once opened up about her mother, about her avoidance of alcohol, or about the fact she has trouble sleeping. I had to uncover each one for myself.

My gut clenches painfully as I think about all the times I came to Stella for advice. She always pushed for the details of mystruggles, never once offered up any of her own.

My sadness quickly turns to frustration and tears prick the back of my eyes. I duck my head to hide the emotions threatening to overspill.

“Lou, I…” Stella’s voice trails off and I raise my head to look at my roommate. Her face paint has all but smeared off, her mascara in raccoon circles around her bloodshot eyes. Her normally perfect hair is in a chaotic ball of frizz, and there seems to be a light trail of snot running from her nose to her upper lip. My heart aches in sympathy, and I find myself stomping down my own tidal wave of emotions.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. We both need a good night’s sleep, then we can talk in the morning, okay?” My roommate nods and lets me lead her to the bathroom where I patiently brush the knots from her hair and clean her face.

“Thank you,” Stella whispers the words as I wipe the last of the orange from her face and some of my anger drifts away. No matter what secrets Stella is keeping from me, that doesn’t change the fact she has taken care of me all semester. And as silly as it sounds, it feels nice to know my strong roommate sometimes needs me to be the supporting figure.

Wrapping my arms around the girl before me, I squeeze her tightly, whispering softly in her ear, “You’re my sister, Stella. And family doesn’t abandon family.”

For the first time ever, I’m up before my roommate.

Not because I set my alarm for 4:15am, but because I didn’t sleep at all. I spent the night tossing and turning, while periodically checking my phone for any updates from Wes. Other than tired selfies of him with a different nurse every few hours, he had nothing to report.

I don’t even bother getting changed when I hear movement through our adjoining wall, I simply march into the living room and slump onto a sofa in my matching pyjama set. They are anime themed in case you were wondering.

I hear Stella’s door creak open and watch as my roommate lightly treads to the kitchen sink. She quietly fills up her water bottle, and I take a moment to observe her. The muscular outline of Stella’s shoulders slump just the slightest bit forward, making her gym bag look unbearably heavy as it hangs off her shoulder. Her long hair is pulled back in a tight bun, rebellious strands of platinum poking out from the otherwise impeccable topknot. She turns from the sink, and I feel my breath catch. Her face is completely void of makeup, and without concealer hiding the bags under her eyes, Stella’s face looks drawn and weary.

As if she has lived this life one too many times.

“Good morning.” My casual conversation starter gets tossed out the window as Stella shrieks and hurls her water bottle in my direction. Brain still in zombie-mode from my restless night, I don’t even flinch as the metallic bottle hurtles my way.

Thump! Stella’s weapon of choice hits my knee, and I barely feel a thing. Turns out my pain receptors don’t work with less than three hours of sleep. Go figure.

“Oh my God, Lou! You almost gave me a heart attack.” Stella clasps a hand over her chest and takes a few deep breathes. “What are you doing up this early?”

I tug my pyjama pants up to see a red circle marking the point of contact. “I couldn’t sleep. And we need to talk.”

Stella sighs and drops her gym bag on the floor. Walking over to the sofa opposite mine, she takes a seat. I shift uncomfortably on my own sofa, suddenly aware my attire isn’t optimal for a roommate intervention.

“I don’t how to say this, so I’m just going to start with how I’m feeling. I feel betrayed, Stella. I’ve been honest with you about my struggles, yet I had to hear from your brother the real reason you don’t drink alcohol.” Stella twitches as if she’s being physically assaulted, but I push on.

“You told me you don’t drink because your workout regime doesn’t leave room for hangovers.” Stella breaks eye contact and looks down to her fiddling hands, “That is true.”

“But that’s not the only reason, is it?” My direct approach causes Stella to raise her tired eyes to mine.

“No, it’s not.”

The anger from last night flares and before I can stop myself, words burst from my mouth, “How can we be sisters if you don’t open up? I’ve told you everything. You’ve told me nothing. How do you think that makes me feel?” I grit my teeth against the crash of emotions battling inside me.

“You’re right, Lou.” Tears well up in Stella’s bloodshot eyes, making her dark eyes glisten with sadness. “I’ve been a horrible sister.”

I stare sadly at the gym guru across from me, wondering how much she’s been keeping from me.

Wiping the moisture from her eyes, Stella stands up and peels off her black tank top. The action is so unexpected that I can only stare, speechless, as a six-pack that could rival Wes’ pops out over the top of her leggings. Call me sexist, but I honestly did not believe girls could have muscles that defined. Stella looks like she was carved by God himself.

Is that what happens when you don’teat fries three meals a day?

Stella raises her right arm, and I gasp. A jagged scar runs along her torso, the taught flesh marred from her waist up to the top of her ribcage. The thick white line branches off into an explosion of scar tissue across Stella’s ribs, the ends of the web disappearing into the band of her pink sports bra. Covering my mouth with my hand, I can only stare in horror at the damage marking my roommate’s body.

“When I was 16, my mother surprised me with a shopping trip for my birthday. We flew out to New York and had the ultimate girl’s weekend.” I tear my gaze away from Stella’s torso to look her in the eye. A sad smile stretches across her face.

“My mom understood me better than anyone else. Grade eleven was a hard year for me, but she knew exactly what I needed: a few days just to get away.” The sad smile wobbles as Stella continues, “We paid to keep our car in the airport parking lot, so my father wouldn’t have to worry about picking us up Sunday night. We were getting in late, and he had an early morning meeting the next day.”

My breath catches knowing what’s about to come.

“We were ten minutes away from our house when a drunk driver rear ended us. It was January, so the roads were icy, and we skidded into a concrete divider. The car flipped and sent us spinning into oncoming traffic. All I remember is my mom screaming and throwing her arm out to protect me. When I woke up, I had five broken ribs and eighteen stitches in my side. It hurt to breath but the doctors told me I was lucky, the glass shards from my window had only snagged my right side, leaving my left side completely untouched. Mo and my father came into the room, and as soon as I saw their expressions, I knew. I knew I was never seeing my mother again.” Tears drip onto Stella’s cheek as she turns so I can see her other side.

“I swore that day, I would never touch alcohol. The only thing it leads to is-

“Consequences,” I finish her sentence by reading the tattoo running down her left side. Most people would have used the bolded black letters to cover up the dreadful scar, but Stella chose to keep the permanent reminder.

“Every night, I hear my mother’s scream and feel her arm press against my chest. The doctors told me only one side was injured from the accident, but I lost so much more than a few inches of skin that day. It didn’t feel right to only have my right side marked when my whole being was crushed with the loss of my mother. So, one year after the accident, Mo took me to get this tattoo. Father would never have approved, but Mo signed as my guardian. He understood the pain I was going through and knew I needed to channel it somewhere.”

I stand up and walk over to my half-naked roommate. I raise my arms in question, and at her nod, I fold her into a tight embrace.

“I am so sorry, Stella.” The words feel less than inadequate, but it’s all I can do. No matter how much you wish otherwise, there’s no changing the past.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. My defense mechanism has always been to avoid the subject, but that wasn’t fair to you.” She hesitates, pulling back from our hug long enough to meet my own, tired eyes.

“Are we… still friends?” The vulnerability in Stella’s voice is so familiar it drags an unexpected laugh from me.

Somewhere along the way, the lines between social butterfly and social outcast became one and the same.

“Remember who you’re talking to, Stella. My answer to that ridiculous question will always be yes.”