My Favorite Story: Someday Out of The Blue

CHAPTER 7: I CAN'T KEEP THIS FROM YOU

CHAPTER 7: I CAN'T KEEP THIS FROM YOU

Isn't it odd that when you least expect a panic attack is when they happen, and when you expect one, they don't? Well, that's about how I was feeling when Maggie dropped the bombshell on me about stopping by my house and meeting my mother, and that Ryan was her accomplice. About the only way I could think of to get out of facing the situation was to have another panic attack. I'd never wanted one before, but I sure did then. I considered the possibility of faking one, but with Maggie being a doctor and all, she probably wouldn't fall for it. Now that she'd met my mother and gotten a glimpse of my "real" life, I was starting to doubt whether or not I could lie my way out of this one. Like most adults, she was surely going to want to get the so-called "authorities" involved.

"Connor, why didn't you tell me what was going on at home?" she asked somewhat more calmly. I just looked at her. I didn't know what to say, and I really didn't feel like talking anyway. I was pissed because I felt like they'd gone behind my back, and I was feeling like shit. I just wanted to go back to sleep and not wake up for a few days until my cold was finally gone. It was some hell of a cold, though. I couldn't remember ever feeling that sick before. Nevertheless, trying to protect my secret took precedence for the time being. "Hon," she said, a little more gently this time, "I told you before that I would help you if you were in any kind of trouble. It's pretty obvious that your current living situation is not good for you." "It's fine," I replied, trying to hold back my anger. "My mother's just a little ... different ... that's all." "No, it's not fine," she said, her voice beginning to rise again. "No child should be living in those conditions, with a mother who comes to the door naked, obviously drunk, I might add, and who blatantly says that she doesn't care about her own son. I have a good mind to call Social Services immediately." Now I was really starting to get pissed. I hated it when other people thought they knew what was best for me. I'd been taking care of myself and making decisions for myself for the past several years, and I thought I'd done just fine. Sure, it was a really crappy life, but it was my life, and I wasn't about to have someone else going and making decisions for me, especially when it came to taking me out of my home and sending me who knows where. I could even end up someplace worse. And for whatever odd reason, I didn't want my mother to get into trouble either. She may have been a druggie and beat on me from time to time, but since my grandmother died, she was all I really had left. She certainly wasn't a pleasant woman, but at least she was familiar. So I wasn't going to stand for these kind of threats from Maggie, and I was going to let her know. "I said my life was fine," I retorted. "There's no reason to call Social Services. I just wish people would leave me alone. I've been doing fine for the past six years. You don't understand anything about me or my life, so please just butt the hell out of it." My voice was growing steadily angrier, and the look that came across Maggie's face was a mixture of shock and anger. Well, that was just tough, because I had to set her straight about a few things. I hadn't asked Ryan to bring me back to their house, and I certainly didn't ask him to take Maggie to my house. This was absolutely none of their business. My "family problems" were just that, my problems. Case closed. "Does your mother hit you?" she asked me pointedly, continuing her interrogation. "No, she doesn't," I lied. I knew that was a sure fire way to have me taken away. She apparently didn't believe me, so she turned to Ryan and asked, "Ryan, have you ever seen any signs of abuse on Connor?" Ryan looked over at me sheepishly, then back to his mother. "No, ma'am," he said. I wasn't sure if he'd seen me with the black eye that one time, but if it really was one of his friends who ended up taking it out on Trent Lomax, then he had to have heard about it. Was he trying to cover for me? Probably not, I figured. He was in on this with his mother anyway, and after the way he'd been treating me for the past six weeks or so, I didn't think he would suddenly try being a "friend" to me. He just mustn't have noticed it, or assumed it was Trent's doing. "See," I jumped in, "I'm not an abused kid. There's no reason to take me out of there. So she doesn't care about me that much. That's not a reason to take me out of my home if I don't want to go. It's not a crime." "What about drugs, Connor? Does she use drugs?" she asked. "No, she doesn't use drugs either," I lied, again. That was the number two reason they could take me away from my mother's home. I'd been through this little charade before, and always managed to talk my way out of it. I could do it again this time. Just as Maggie looked like she was going to continue her interrogation, I started coughing loudly again. It must have sounded pretty awful, because Maggie's expression changed quickly from anger to concern. It must have been the doctor side of her. "Connor, are you okay? Ryan said you were sick. That cough doesn't sound very good." "I'm fine. I didn't ask Ryan to bring me here. It's just a little cold, and I don't need or want you all taking pity on me or trying to take care of me or anything. I can take care of myself!" I spat. With that said, and still unable to stop coughing, I got out of bed, grabbed my clothes off the floor, and made a beeline for the bedroom door. Before I could get out, though, Toby stopped me, grabbing me in a bear hug. "Please, Connor," he whispered into my ear. "Please don't go again. I'll make her leave you alone, just please don't go, please!" I struggled to get away, but he just held me tighter, and with the fact that my cold had sapped nearly all the strength out of my body, I could hardly struggle much anyway. "Just let me go!" I pleaded. "I don't want to be here. I'm fine. I just wanna go home!" Those were the words that were coming out of my mouth, but part of me didn't want Toby to let go of me either. "Please, Connor, don't do this," Toby continued to beg. "I love you, please don't go. I know you can't love me the way I love you, but please just do this one thing for me and stay, just for now. Please." SHIT!!! He just had to pull that one on me. Not fair. Not fair at all. I was a little surprised, though, as I looked over at Maggie and saw that she didn't seem the slightest bit fazed by Toby's little confession of love for me. Her face just softened, and she walked over, placing her hand on my shoulder. "Okay, Connor," she said calmly, "we won't discuss this any more right now. Just stay here for now. You're not feeling well, and I want to check you out. We'll just forget everything else until you're feeling better, ok?" I didn't want to discuss it even after I felt better, but I wasn't feeling in much condition to go on arguing. I felt dizzy, my cough was getting worse, and I honestly wasn't too thrilled with the idea of running back out into the rain and cold, no matter how pissed off I was. "Fine," I huffed. But as soon as I was feeling better, I was outta there. Toby led me back to Ryan's bed and tucked me in, while Maggie announced that she was going to get her doctor's bag and would be right back. Ryan hadn't moved, and was still leaned up against the dresser, arms still crossed, and looking down at the floor. Toby stayed seated on the bed right next to me, probably preparing to grab me if I tried to make another run for it. If he was worried about that, though, he didn't need to be. I didn't have the energy to do much of anything right then. Even breathing was a struggle. I felt like total shit, and the excitement of the past few minutes hadn't helped things either. When Maggie came back in, she took Toby's place next to me and opened up her bag, pulling out an assortment of instruments. She first stuck one of those digital thermometers in my ear to take my temperature, and I did have a fever -- 101.8 degrees. She then took her light and looked in my ears, nose, and throat, felt around the glands on my neck, and finally, listened to my chest with her stethoscope. She spent quite a while doing that, placing it on several places around my chest and back, and damn that thing was cold! While she was listening, she made that "clucking" sound several times, which was a bit disconcerting. She also lifted up my pajama top (well technically it was Ryan's pajama top that I just happened to be wearing), no doubt looking for signs of abuse, which had fortunately all healed by then, earning her a scowl from me. "How long have you been feeling under the weather, Connor?" she asked, in her most professional tone. "Since about Saturday morning, I guess," I replied. "Have your symptoms gotten better or worse?" "Worse." "Have you been discharging any phlegm when you cough?" "Yes, ma'am," I answered, now trying to be a little more polite. "What color is it usually?" "Sort of a yellowish-green, I suppose." "Any difficulty breathing, aside from having a stuffy nose?" "Yeah, I guess my chest feels a little funny." She seemed to be considering all of this for a few moments. I was starting to figure that I probably just didn't have a simple cold. Maybe it was the flu. It was flu season, after all. I'd had the flu before, though, just never this bad. "Your vocal cords looked pretty swollen when I looked in your throat," she said. "That would explain why you're sounding a bit hoarse." "That's probably because I did three concerts in one week and strained my voice," I explained. "It happens sometimes. I just need to rest my voice for a few days is all. Singers get used to that kind of thing." "Yes, I agree. But that's what I'm not most concerned about. We can't really do anything for that except for you to rest, and maybe give you some Tylenol for the discomfort, although I'm going to give you some for your fever anyway," she said. "What are you more concerned about then? It's just the flu, right?" I asked. "From listening to your chest and the symptoms you've described, I would guess that you probably have a mild case of pneumonia. That's a bit more serious than the flu. We can't be completely sure without a chest X-ray, but I think I'll start you on a course of Ciprofloxacin, which is an antibiotic, and just assume for the time being that it's what I think it is," she replied. "Can't you die from pneumonia?" I asked, starting to get a little worried. "Yes, some people do," she said. "But so far, your fever isn't too high, and if it is pneumonia, starting on the antibiotics right away should help. If you don't start getting better in a few days, or start to get worse, we'll have to take you to the hospital. But I think you'll probably be okay. However, I don't have Cipro lying around, so I'll have to call in a prescription to the drug store and go pick it up." "By the way," she continued, "how's your anxiety been? Did you finish all of the medication I gave you?" "The past six weeks or so have been pretty tough. I finished it last Saturday night, I think," I answered. "And how have you been since then?" she asked. "I got really nervous about the talent show last weekend, so I found some stuff called 'Demerol' that my mom had, and that worked really well," I replied. SHIT! I probably shouldn't have said that. "Connor," she said, starting to sound angry again. "Do you know what Demerol even is? It's an extremely potent pain-killer; it's not meant for treating anxiety." "Well, it worked," I replied, remembering just how well it worked. I'd never felt that good in my life before. Well, actually, Ryan holding me before felt pretty good too. Tough call to make. "Connor," she said, "first of all, you should never take any kind of medication without a doctor's prescription." "It worked," I said, "and I felt great, so what's the problem?" "The problem is that Demerol is very strong, and it's only used to treat extremely severe kinds of pain, like in cancer patients. It's tightly regulated, and the reason for that is because it is extremely addictive. You do not want to get addicted to something like Demerol." As soon as she said "extremely addictive," I thought of my mother. I certainly did not want to become like her, and decided right then and there that I would not be taking any more pills my mother had lying around. Now that I'd thought about it, it really was stupid. "I promise I won't do that again," I assured her. "I guess it was pretty stupid." "Yes, it was," she agreed, giving me a disapproving look. "Anyway, I'm going to take Ryan with me to go pick up that antibiotic from the drug store. You just stay here and rest until we get back." "Yes, ma'am," I said, immediately delighted at the suggestion of rest. I most definitely needed that. With that, Maggie and Ryan left, and I was left in the room alone with Toby. We sat there for several minutes in an uncomfortable silence. I didn't really know what to say to him, and it seemed he didn't know what to say either. After chewing on his nails for a few minutes, he announced that he was going to take a shower, and left me alone to rest for a bit. Although I wasn't as pissed off as I was before, I was still unhappy with Ryan for how I thought he'd betrayed me and treated me unfairly. Not just for ratting me out to his mother, but also for the past six weeks that he'd totally ignored me. He should have at least talked to me. If he was angry and didn't want to be my friend anymore, the least he could have done was tell me; then I wouldn't have had to suffer like I did. I could have accepted it and started to get over it. I had no idea what was going on in that head of his. I was blamed for keeping things from other people, but what about him? Thinking about that got me to wondering again whether or not I would be better off with Toby. He hadn't betrayed me. In fact, despite the fact that I had tried to ignore him, he'd stuck by my side the entire time. He may have only been fourteen, but to me, he showed a lot more character than anybody else. I should have been with him from the beginning; then none of this would have happened. Sure, part of me had been a little ... well, shocked ... when Mikey told me about Toby's "sexual charisma." It seemed like he was awfully sure of himself and much more experienced than I was, both sexually and in terms of identifying himself as "gay." That was a little intimidating. However, the way he'd treated me didn't give me the impression that he would do anything to hurt me. More than anything, he seemed like he just wanted to be there for me, and he didn't question me or demand anything from me. So my mind was telling me that I should tell Toby that I was ready to try to return his feelings for me. Unfortunately, my not-so-rational heart still couldn't break itself away from Ryan, despite all of the ways in which I thought he had wronged me. Needless to say, it appeared as though I would probably be staying here during the Thanksgiving break until I got over my little bout of pneumonia. If none of the day's events had occurred, I would have been ecstatic at the thought of spending my first "real" Thanksgiving since my grandmother died with the McCormack family. But now, I wasn't looking forward to being around Ryan. So I told myself that I was staying for my own health, and for Toby. Ryan could go to hell as far as I was concerned -- certainly a far cry from how I had felt about him before.