Someone Like You

Chapter 9

After the girls left, the doctor came in with my parents, and stood there and smiled at me.
"Bethany, I'm Dr. Suess," he said. I giggled and shook his hand. "Well, my name is Richard Seuss, and I'm a doctor, they call me Dr. Seuss, which is iconic because I also write poems," he chuckled. "Bethany, I guess your parents already told you that you are leaving the hospital tomorrow, but unfortunately, you're not going to be able to go to school for the next week; a nurse will be visiting you at home for a couple of hours a day for the next seven days and she will be accompanied by-"
"Doctor, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but we would like to tell our daughter ourselves, about the um... The other thing," interrupted my mom.
"Thing? Wh-what thing, mom?" I asked her worried.
"Sweetie, I um... I'll explain everything after the doctor checks on you for the last time," she told me.
"Okay, um, Bethany, would you mind if I checked your blood pressure and heart beat, please?" He asked. I shook my head softly and sat straight on the side of the big white bed. The doctor unbuckled my dress from my back to check my heart beat, the buckled it again and listened to my heart from my chest. It was beating really quickly since I was scared of what my mom was going to tell me. "Bethany, don't stress out; it's bad for you. Here, drink some water and calm down and I'll check again," told me the doctor handing me the glass of water that was on the nightstand. After a couple of seconds, he listened again, then he checked my blood pressure. "Everything seems great! I'm just going to write down a list of medicine pills and sirups you have to take for the next month and everything will be fine," he smiled and left.
"What did you want to tell me, mom?" I asked her nervously.
"Honey, we got you a therapist," she stated.
"WHAT?" I yelled.
"Bethany, calm dow-" said my dad as I interrupted him.
"Calm down? Seriously? You want me to calm down? Why in the world would you get me a therapist?"
"Because you didn't tell us the truth about why you ran away," he said.
"Okay, fine! I lied about the reason I left, okay? But that doesn't mean I'm going to tell a complete stranger why I did! I will never tell anyone why I left; not you, not the therapist, not the doctor... Not my friends, yet," I explained. But in my defense, needing space was one of the reasons I ran away...
"Wait, so you tell your friends, but not your parents?"
"Yes, mother," I said with an attitude.
"Don't use that tone with us, young lady," said my dad.
"Well stop treating me like a child, then!" I said. I got up, grabbed the IV stand and walked to the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" Said my mom.
"I need to move my legs," I answered as I opened the door and left.
I held my arm and walked in the hallway. I came across a lot of rooms with opened doors; teenagers, kids, toddlers and babies were sitting there staring at the walls, watching TV, crying, talking to their parents, and I was there, beginning to tear up. I couldn't go anywhere, though; they wouldn't let me out of the long hallway and I felt trapped, so I kept coming and going, and seeing the same rooms, and the same people, over and over again. I finally sat down on a bench, by a desk in the middle of the halls. A nurse came up to me and sat next to me. She looked like she was still young, maybe a couple of years older than me, in her twenties.
"Hi," she smiled. I smiled back. "I'm Katy, and I'm guessing you're Bethany."
"How do you know me?" I asked her.
"You're a teenage YouTube sensation, Bethany Noel Mota," she winked. "And the name tag on your wrist kind of gave it away." I chuckled. "I love your videos, by the way," she told me.
"Thank you," I said.
"So, what are you doing out of your room?" She asked.
"My parents... They kind of frustrate me sometimes... And I needed to move my legs," I answered.
"Well you better go back; you've been wandering around for thirty minutes and I just heard the other nurses saying they were going to see you or something," she told me.
"Oh, okay... Well it was great meeting you, Katy," I said.
"You too," she told me and helped me up. I went to my room and my parents weren't there. I sat in my bed and slept, because it was already a little late, and I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
"Thank you, grandpa," I said to myself. "Thank you for saving me, and making me realize what I was losing, and how much I meant to people. You made me realize how much I was wanted, and I appreciate that," I smiled to the balcony that was opened to the beautiful blue sky, before I slept.
I woke up to my phone buzzing on the nightstand; they were messages from the group, telling me to wake up to leave so they would see me, at last.
My parents were sleeping on the couch, in front of my bed, so I muted the phone and got up to go to the restroom. I stank and smelled like a rat that had just woken up from the dead, and I couldn't wait to get home and take a bath, and to see my best friends again.
When I got out of the bathroom, my parents were up and packing. They got up to me and hugged me and tried to apologize.
"Why are you apologizing? This isn't helping, at all; you want me to forgive you? Then cancel, because I'm not going home to see her for hours every day and talk to her as if she was my friend," I said.
"Bethany!" Yelled my mom.
"What? The truth is still too much for me to handle and I just... I don't want to talk about it, okay?" I told her.
"Just tell us who? Who made you this upset? Who made you feel like this? Who made you feel so bad you wanted to run away? You have to tell us, as soon as possible," told me my dad.
"Well then, call me when a coconut grows on an apple tree, when a fish drowns, when Mickey and Minnie get married, when the sun stops shining and when they start arresting people because ther're nice to others, on the thirtieth of February," I said.
"You know what? I will cancel the therapist, under one condition; you tell us the truth, now," stated my mom.
"Why don't you make me?" I told them with an attitude.
"We are your parents, Bethany Mota, and you can absolutely not talk to us that way! You're going to speak the truth to us, or you do it to the therapist," said my dad.
"Okay, fine. But be sure that the therapist won't help me, because I'm not opening my mouth to her. And if I do, how will you know? Therapists are supposed to keep their patients problems a secret. And by the way, I don't have a problem, okay? And if I was feeling bad, the first two things that will know it are my pillow and my diary, and the other stuffed animals on my bed, because at least I can trust them," I said. I've never been this rude to anyone, and it didn't feel right. But I had to stand up to myself and defend myself because I honestly didn't want to talk to anyone but my pillows, diary and best friends, because nobody understands me more than them. I felt bad and apologized to my parents, and surprisingly they, for once in forever, understood me. They said they had been overprotective and they were invading my privacy.
"I remember I used to hate it when my mom asked me about stuff like this; I never told my parents why I was sad and I was obsessed with my privacy. Beth, I'm sorry; I get what you're going through... I mean, being a teenager isn't easy, I know that. Tell us whenever you're ready, okay?" She said kissing my forehead. "I'm canceling the therapist, okay? Forget her."