I Dont Do Too Well On My Own

The Fourty-Sixth Chapter

The next day I can stand again. Im allowed to walk down the hall and back, and I do.

Andy has his hands on his hips as I shuffle around the bed.

"Okay, youre doing great. Id hope that you havent forgotten how to walk... But this is a start..." Andy says to himself.

"Im trying." I say, deep in concentration.

Andy holds out his hand just out of reach. I slowly wonder towards him but he is wondering away, backwards.

"Stop making this so hard for me."

He speeds up. "Its walking J-... Skye."

I sigh and keep going, down the hall.

Youd think Im 80 by the way Im shuffling.

We make it down one end of the hall and back. We go slow, Andy pretending that, really, this is the hardest thing to do. And that, really, Im doing better than a toddler.

"Look youve done it." Andy says when we arrive back.

My side starts to hurt again, the numbness clearing off. I put the drip back in my hand with a sigh.

"Its a struggle, isnt it." Andy sobers up, sitting down.

"I didnt choose this." I say to my knees.

"You drank for three years every night solidly."

"But I didnt choose that either."

Jump back to Jessicas mum telling her she wont be able to live on her own. That she wouldnt make it.

"This sucks. I didnt chose this life."

"Look." Andy lifts my face with one of his fingers. "As soon as you get out this... Hospital... We are going to keep your life on track. We are going to help you have the adventures you wanted. We are going to make you... You!"

"Thats nice Andy."

"No, really!"

"No, really."

He sighs. "We can only do it if you want to."

I run my finger up and down the wire in my hand.

"You can choose to get better or..."

I look up at him again. His eyes are soft and pleading.

"I want you to get better almost as much as Patrick does. He wants it more than anything."

Andy laughs at the idea. He runs his hand through his hair and then his beard.

"You gotta try."

"Thanks Andy." I chuckle.

*

That evening, after my next cup of drugs, Andy swaps out for Joe. Its like they have a rota.

"You know," Joe says. "we actually have a rota."

I laugh.

"Its true! Its a teeny bit of scrawled paper, but its a rota."

"You can get rid of it soon. Tomorrow they might set me free!" I laugh.

He looks over me. "Thats hopeful..."

"Do I still look pale and dead?"

"Well no... But your on high dosage of drugs and we know what that means!"

"Joe. Im not high."

"You dont know until youre low again."

"Joe, Im not high."

"You can say that, but who knows!"

I use my spare arm to send him a play punch. "I do!"

"Sure... I think you should sleep it off."

I shake my head and cross my arms.

Theres a knock at the door.

"Miss Stump, how are you feeling?" The doctor asks.

Joe gives me a look.

"A lot better, thanks. I walked earlier and just took my pills." I say.

"Ah, good." He replies. "Im here to check on you."

He places the path on again and I tense up waiting.

Joes eyes wonder to the machine as he works out what the doctor is doing. He looks so innocent, deep in concentration.

Suddenly it tenses and I gasp, Clinging to the bed. Its practically squeezing my scar and liver.

I force my eyes closed and take deep breaths. Joes hand hovers lightly on my back and I shake my head.

"Okay, done." He pulls the sticker off my skin.

I open my eyes and relax.

"You may be able to go home soon. You need rest though. You dont need to do your resting here. Youll need to come for check ups every now and then, definitely."

I nod a thanks. He leaves.

"Stump?" Joe practically shouts at me.

"No, I cant use my real name of Ill be arrested. Patrick lent me his."

"Oh?"

"Yes, oh."

Joe laughs and leans back in his seat.

"You should stay a Trohman. Stump doesnt suit you."