Smoke And Steel

• Thirty - Thanksgiving And Fangirling Cousins •

Avery

"I'm sorry we won't be able to let you out today, but since it's Thanksgiving we do have turkey and pumpkin pie for dinner tonight." The doctor - Dr. Jonathon Loveridge was what he'd introduced himself as - said, smiling at me as though turkey and pumpkin pie was going to cheer me up. "And if you pass the evaluation in the weekend then you might be able to go home then."

Did he really just say that? I don't exactly have a 'home'

"Oh that's just dandy," I said, clapping my hands together. "It almost makes me forget about the big fucking ugly scars I'm going to have once these big fucking ugly cuts fully heal, or about the fact that  -like an old cripple - I can't actually walk without a cane. And hang on there old Johnny boy, because I almost forgot that I also have a condescending prick for a doctor." I knew I was overreacting, but I just wanted to be out of this stupid fucking bed already.

"I would appreciate if you didn't talk to me like that, Mr Steel. I think you need more Tramadol -"

"No," I said, silencing him."I don't want any of your stupid drugs. They make me feel like I'm living in a fucking fish bowl. I'd rather be in pain then not feel connected to my surroundings."

"Okay then, Mr Steel. About those scars -  the surgeon who fixed you up is one of the best we have. They will look so thin and clean when they're fully healed that you will barely notice they're there, I promise you."

"You're not pulling my leg?" I asked. "And stop calling me 'Mr Steel', my name's Avery."

"No I'm not pulling your leg, as you so chiefly phrased it. And okay then, if that's what you wish."

"I do wish it."

"Then I'll write here on your chart that everyone's to call you by your first name." He picked up the clipboard at the end of my bed and wrote on it. "And Avery?"

"Yes?" I was glad one of the idiots were actually listening to me.

"Our physio team will endeavour to get you back on your feet as quickly as possible. The quicker you progress, the quicker you won't have to walk with that walking stick."

"Okay then. Sorry for snapping at you before." I kind of was a prick and I knew it, he was just doing his job. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"I've had worse patients, but thanks. You too, Avery" With that he nodded his head and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. 

Everyone had gone home but had promised to come back at various times during the day, and I remembered thinking that this had to be one of the most boring Thanksgivings I had ever had - far from one of the worst ones, though. Fran told me yesterday that they most probably wouldn't let me out today, but she promised that we'd have a big old feast when I did. She was just so nice like that.

As I waited for someone to come and entertain me, I decided to do something with my time. I grabbed a pen and my old journal that Tate had brought from my drawers at their house and started writing. I wrote about random things - thoughts, feelings, memories - anything that came to mind. It was something I used to always do, but hadn't done in a while. I guess I just hadn't felt like I needed to, but now, here in the impersonal hospital ward, I felt like it was something that needed to be done.

Sometimes, if you let them build up too much, thoughts can be so heavy that they weigh you down. Writing them all helps me get rid of them, if only temporarily. It's also a way of remembering the way certain things made me feel. These pieces of paper held everything for me so I didn't have to.

I liked that.

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Ebony