Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 13: heart monitor

I woke up to the consistent sound of beeping next to me, and when I opened my eyes to see a catheter in my skin, my suspicions were confirmed: I was in a hospital. That's when memories came flooding back like water from a broken dam. I knew in that instant: I messed up. And I don't mean spilling your drink on someone at a party kind of messed up.

I remember learning in history class that people believed cats were causing the bubonic plague, so they killed nearly every cat in Britain to stop it from spreading. Turns out, cats were the ones that kept it from spreading too much, as it was the vermin that the cats hunted that were carrying the disease. That's the level of messed up that I managed to accomplish. Yeah, really bad. I looked at a clock on the wall and realized that it was still last night. Groaning, I rubbed at my eyes.

"Hey, bud."

I jerked my head to see my dad sitting in a chair next to me. How did I only just now realize he was here? "Hi," I croaked, grimacing at the sound of my voice.

"You don't got amnesia too, now do ya," he joked, a halfhearted smile on his face. I noticed how the ends of his mouth were curved, but his cheeks were still flat. His eyes were anything but cheerful.

I cleared my throat. "No." I looked around the room, seeing that the rest of my family was gone.

He read my silent question and said, "Your mother is outside talking to the doctor."

I nodded, allowing the room to fill with thick silence. It was uncomfortable, extremely uncomfortable, but I wasn't sure what I could say at that point to make the tension any less awkward. Every avenue of conversation seemed to risk making it even more tense and awkward. It seemed to be the same case for my dad, as he didn't fight the silence that ensued for the next few minutes before the doctor came in with my mother.

Right away, I noticed the puffiness of her eyes.

She's been crying. She's been crying because of me.

"Hey there, Nathan," the doctor smiled. I offered the same half-ass attempt to smile that my dad did, but I imagine it was weaker.

Weak. Pathetic. Pathetically weak.

Ignoring the nagging voice in my mind, I focused my attention to what the doctor had to say.

"How are you feeling?"

I shrugged. "Like crap."

He nodded understandingly. "That makes sense." He glanced down at his clipboard. "Do you have any idea why you're in here, Nathan?"

I shook my head. "I just started vomiting and shaking."

"That's one way of putting it. You were in quite a bad state when the paramedics arrived. Do you have any idea what might have lead to all of this?"

I shook my head and began lying through my teeth. "I was just at my friend's house, and we were making s'mores. There wasn't anything that caused all of it."

He tilted his head ever so slightly. "I'm sure you have some idea as to how some of this started."

I shook my head yet again. "No, honestly."

I wonder if my heart rate if giving away my lying...

"What was the first thing you noticed was off about the way you felt?"

A blush crept up my neck. "I really needed to use the bathroom all of a sudden. At least, I thought I did."

He nodded and wrote something on his clipboard. "And what were you and your friends doing when all of this happened?"

"I told you, making s'mores." I had to make a conscious effort to keep the edge out of my tone. "What does this have to do with anything, anyway?"

Mom put her hand on my wrist to comfort me. I looked at her and saw a scared woman masked behind the guise of a comforting mother. It was tearing me apart.

"Have you seen this before?" he asked. From out of his pocket he produced that all too familiar pill bottle.

But I was on a roll, and wasn't ready yet to give up my streak of denial. "No."

"This was found in your coat pocket."

I thought I felt my heart skip a beat, but the beeping monitor assured me that it was all in my head. I looked at my parents, only to turn my eyes quickly back to the doctor. It's easier to see disappointment from a stranger than from the people who love you most.

I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and feigned ignorance. "What is that?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that. There's no label on it." He took one of the little suckers out and held it between two fingers. "Did you happen to look up the numbers on the pills themselves?"

"No. What are they?"

I didn't need the answer, but at the same same time, I did want to know the name of it for future reference. Once I feel safe enough to start taking them again, I gonna have to steer clear of that pill.

"It's called Prednisone, or Sterapred. It's a corticosteroid, and is extremely harsh on the body. Taking the wrong dose at the wrong time, and especially for the wrong reason, can cause extreme pain in the stomach, and many other symptoms for that matter, if not taken as directed by a doctor."

Wait...a what? "What's a corticosteroid? I mean, I've heard of steroids, but what..."

"A corticosteroid is an anti-inflammatory agent," he explained. "It's different from the steroids you're probably thinking of, like testosterone. Not to be confused with what body builders use with doping."

You impatient, ignorant little--

"Did you think this was a steroid that enhanced physical performance?" he continued.

"No."

Deny it. Deny it all.

"So you knowingly took it, then?"

I froze, realizing the trap that he's caught me in. "No." It was stupid to deny it at this point, but by now, it was an automatic response. I didn't have to think about denying it, I just did.

Letting out a breath, he sat down on the end of the bed, facing my parents but keeping his gaze on me. I was stiff as a board. "You aren't in any trouble Nathan," he said gently. "We aren't going to call the cops, and we aren't going to put this on your record. I just want to know...did you take these? And if so, for what reason?"

My reflex to lie almost took over again, but a single glance and the look on my parents' faces, and the way that mom rubbed her thumb on my hand in a reassuring way, broke down my walls. I had to confess. I had to give them an answer.