Текст книги "Honesty"

Автор книги: Regina Frame

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Honesty

"Shouldn't he be waking up by now?" I asked the doctor who was looking over the monitors alongside Linc's hospital bed.

"He had a lot of chemicals in his system. We pumped as much of them out as we could, and now the rest is up to him. His vitals are stronger than they were yesterday. That tells me that his body is getting stronger. He's lucky to be here. Keep talking to him, he can hear you. Give him all the encouragement you can." He nodded his head and left the room. It was not the news I was hoping for, but at this point, I would take it. He had been unconscious for two whole days, and I wished he would just wake up.

"How's he doing?" Levi, Chance, Jinx and Court all walked into the room at the same time.

"The doctor says he's stronger today than he was yesterday, and now it's pretty much up to him if he pulls out of it or not," I told them, gripping his hand in mine. I could already feel the tears building behind my eyes again.

"I should have forced him into rehab months ago, but I was too focused on finishing out the tour to really stop and think about what was best for him. I knew it was bad, but I never dreamed something like this would happen," Court said with sorrow in his eyes and guilt on his face.

"We can sit here all day long and blame ourselves, but we all know in the end that Linc's gonna do what Linc's gonna do. We've known him for over a year now. He is what he is. If you told him not to cross the road after seven P. M. he would be waiting on the corner at six fifty-eight so he wouldn't be late, and at exactly seven P. M., he would walk across that road and flip you off once he got to the other side. It's how he's wired, and add the addiction in and it's a dangerous combination. We need to move forward now and help him get through this and get healthy," Jinx stated.

"You hear that dickhead? We need your sorry ass, so you need to wake up!" Levi grabbed his bare foot through the blanket and gave it a shake. When he looked at me, I could see his own tears building in his eyes.

"I keep talking to him, hoping that somehow it's getting through. That he's hearing me. I keep hoping that he will respond somehow. Hell, at this point I would be satisfied with a finger movement," I told them as I ran my fingers through his overgrown brown hair.

"Just keep talking to him, Honesty. He hears you. If he's going to come out of it for anyone, it'll be you. He was devastated when Jinx told us that you'd left. While you were with us that was the happiest I had seen him in a long time. I have faith he'll come around." Chance placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Why don't you let one of us stay with him and you go back to the hotel and get some rest. We'll call you if anything changes," he offered.

I shook my head.

"No, I'm good. I want to be here when he wakes up." I would have loved nothing more than to have a hot shower and a good night’s rest; one where I wasn’t interrupted every hour by someone coming in and out of the room to check vitals. Where I could stretch my legs out completely instead of sleeping with them drawn up to my chest in the chair, but right now, this was where I needed to be. "Tell me again what happened?" I gripped Linc's hand and looked down at his lifeless body with tubes coming out of it in every direction.

"After the show Saturday night, we all went to our rooms for the night. Levi and Chance each had a girl with them, but Linc didn't. He wanted to go out. Court stayed behind to talk to him about trashing his guitar on stage. He talked to him again about rehab and the possibility of seeing a therapist to get to the underlying problem of his addiction, but he blew up, just as he always does. Court told him that we’d had a meeting after the last show and decided that if something happened again he'd be suspended. We did it with his best interest at heart. You have to believe me. The only thing we want is for him to get better," Jinx said.

"I saw him enter his room as I was leaving mine to go down stairs. I thought when I left him at the venue that he'd hop in a cab and head for a club, but he didn't. I thought that was so unlike him to go back to his room, because if Linc wants to party, he'll do it, with or without us. He always has. Something about it kept nagging at me, so I went to his room to check on him, and when he wouldn't open the door, I called hotel security to open it. I thought the worst that could happen, would be opening the door to find that he wasn’t in there, then I'd look like a fool, but that wasn't the case. He had so much cocaine and alcohol in his system, on top of the pain meds, the E. R. doc gave him, that he barely had a heartbeat. The paramedics almost lost him twice on the way to the hospital," Court told me.

"Oh God! What if you had ignored that feeling? What if you hadn't called security and gone in there to check on him? He wouldn't be here. He would have died and I wouldn’t have had the chance to talk to him again. There are so many things I need to say. He tried to talk to me. He tried to talk to me before I left the venue that night, but I wouldn't listen.” Burying my face in my hands, I let it all go. All the tears, the fear, the pain; I let it all spill out of me and drip from my face onto the sheet covering Linc's body.

"Stop it," my brother said, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me to his chest. "This is not your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's the bands. We knew he had a problem; Court even addressed it more than once. He even threatened him with rehab, but I'm the worst one of all. He's my best friend, and I turned a blind eye and ignored it. I thought he had it under control. I should have known, between his disappearing acts during practice, and his frequent nose bleeds. I should have confronted him and demanded that he go to rehab." He kissed the top of my head and held me tight against his chest.

"You should probably go and update the fans. I'm sure they're wondering how he is doing." There was a group of fans camped out in the parking lot ever since the news broke that he'd been brought into the emergency room. They had been there ever since. I lowered myself into the hard, vinyl chair beside his bed, never letting go of his hand. "I want to be here when he wakes up."

He gave my shoulder a light squeeze. "You really care about him, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. I thought it was just your way of making me wake up and see that you were no longer a child, but a woman. A sort of in-your-face kind of thing for running off and leaving you alone with mom for all of those years, but, I can see it now. You genuinely feel something for him," my brother said, and I nodded my confirmation, but said nothing. Long moments of silence filled the air, and for once in his life, I think my brother was at a loss for words.

"Yes," I said around the lump in my throat. “I do care about him. I think there's more to the man than he lets other people see. I think, behind the pain in those eyes, is a man dealing with a world of hurt, and unless he deals with whatever is eating him alive, his addiction will end up killing him.

"I'm going to get going. Can I bring you back anything?" he asked his voice quiet.

"I'm not hungry," I told him, knowing that being the overprotective brother that he was, he would bring me back something to eat.

"Alright then, I will be back in a little while." He walked from the room and closed the door behind him.

He looked so helpless lying here. His handsome face was pale, with light scruff along his jaw line, and his eyes were encased in dark circles. His full lips were dry and cracked, and his high cheekbones were sunken and hollowed. The drugs had definitely taken a toll on his body, and he looked as if he hadn’t eaten in a week.

I should have never left him. I should have stayed and kept an eye on him. I could have forced him to take care of himself.

Once they were gone, the room was quiet again except for the sounds of the machines. I crawled onto the side of the bed with the least amount of tubes and curled into Linc’s side, resting my head over his heart. I squeezed my eyes tight and cried while I listened to the steady beat of his heart. I must have drifted off because a shift in the bed startled me, and I realized the body underneath me had just shifted in the bed. I jerked my head up and my heart fluttered in my chest when my eyes landed on his.

"Oh my God! You're awake!" I exclaimed, cupping his cheek with my hand. He stared at me with confusion on his face.

"You're here?" his voice broke as he began speaking.

"Yes, I'm here." I gave him a reassuring smile. "How do you feel?" I asked him.

"Like I've been run over by a fucking truck," he said and groaned as he shifted in the bed. "What happened?" he asked. He had no idea he had almost died.

"Linc, you've been unconscious for two days. The guys found you unresponsive in your hotel room and called an ambulance. You almost died twice on the way to the hospital," I told him, lacing my fingers with his.

"I don't understand. The last thing I remember was watching a movie, and now you're telling me I've been here for two days?" He asked with confusion on his face.

"Linc, you overdosed. The doctor had to pump your stomach when you came in. We could have lost you," I told him, giving his hand a little squeeze.

He didn’t say anything. He just lay there, staring off into space as if he was trying to sort it all out.

Just as I was about to break the silence, a nurse came into the room. I pushed myself off the bed and stepped out of her way, so she could do what she needed to do.

"Welcome back," she said with a smile. "You've had a lot of people worried about you," she said while checking the monitors beside his bed. "Your fan club has been camped out in the parking lot for two days now," she said, patting his arm. "I'll let the doctor know that you're awake." She turned and walked toward the door, then paused. "You've got yourself a special girl there." She nodded in my direction. "She hasn't left your side since she got here," she said as she stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her.

He tilted his head up to meet my eyes. "You've been here the whole time?" He asked with a look of disbelief.

"I came as soon as Jinx called me. I hopped on the next plane and came straight to the hospital. I was so worried about you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay," I told him.

He swallowed hard and I could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat.

"Why?" His voice was shaky. Something flashed in his eyes, but only for a second, and then it was gone. I was not sure what it was, but I really didn’t like the way he was looking at me.

"What do you mean, why? You're a member of my brother’s band, and believe it or not, I happened to like you," I told him and smiled.

"You shouldn't," he said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

His words confuse me. "I shouldn't what? Like you? Well, tough shit! Neither you, nor anyone else, get to tell me who I can and cannot care about. I'm so sick of people telling me what to do and how to feel," I said, and he just laid there and stared, without a word, so I continued. "Maybe I think you're a nice guy. Maybe I see something that others don't; something that you choose to ignore," I told him, and before I could continue, a short, balding man wearing a white coat, with a stethoscope around his neck stepped through the door.

"It's good to see you awake Mr. McKay. I'm Dr. Ford, the physician on-call today. I've read over your file, and I'm going to be quite honest with you: you have abused your body for so long, and done so much damage, that I'm ninety-nine percent certain that you won't pull out of it next time," he told him. “I'm going to give it to you straight: you need a good rehab program, and you need to surround yourself with positive people, people who care and can support you. People you can lean on if needed. I know we, as men, don't like to ever think about the fact that we might need to lean on someone for support. I know from my own experience as a former addict, we all need someone from time to time. We're only human. I've been clean for ten years now, and I was like you at first. I didn't want to hear the word rehab from anybody. I wanted to punch everyone in the face who even dared to think that I needed help, but I had to hit bottom before it really sunk in. I lost my wife, my house, and I almost lost my medical license. If it weren't for rehab and some really close friends who believed in me, I would be on the street or dead right now. I had to fight to keep my job, and even had to give up the right to prescribe narcotics, but at least I'm here, trying to make a difference in lives every day. I'm going to be honest with you, there is no better high than being clean," he stated. "You think about that, son. I would hate to see you throw away your career, or even worse: I'd hate to have to pronounce your time of death."

If that was not a punch straight to the gut, then I don't know what was. For once, Linc hadn’t said a word. He listened patiently as Dr. Ford discussed his need for rehab, and not once did he curse at him. "I'll be back around to see you tonight. You think about what I said, and if you're willing to go, I'll get it squared away," he said, before turning and leaving the room.

I lowered myself into the hard, vinyl chair beside his bed, and waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, I gave him the much needed space that I knew he needed. Stepping out into the hall, I called my brother to let him know that Linc was awake. I didn’t tell him about his conversation with the doctor; it was not my story to tell. I would have to leave that for Linc to discuss with his band mates. I walked back into the room and closed the door behind me. He had raised the head of the hospital bed while I was out of the room, so now he was in more of a seated position. I crossed the room and lowered myself into my hard, vinyl chair.

"You want me to leave?" I asked him, and he just shook his head, saying nothing. "Want to talk about it?" I asked.

"No," he replied. I could almost see the wheels turning in his brain. The pain was evident in his eyes.

"It might help if you talk about it," I said. He startled me when he whipped his head in my direction, pinning me with his gaze.

“I said I don't want to fucking talk about it!" He practically shouted at me. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth and bit down, while willing the tears not to fall, but I could already feel them building behind my eyes.

"I'm sorry. My nerves are all over the place. It's one of the side effects of coming off the cocaine. That's one reason why I've always made sure to keep enough in my system. Getting high is the fun part, coming down, not so much," he said, his brows pinched.

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize to me. I understand. You've been through a lot. I called the guys and told them you were awake. They asked me what the doctor said after he talked with you, and I told them that they'd need to ask you. I said it wasn't my information to give," I said.

"I can't believe that I ever let it get to this point. It serves me right though. He always said I'd never amount to anything, said that I was no good. I guess he was right. The piece of shit is probably laughing in his grave right now, saying, ‘I told you so,’" His voice trailed off at the end, and the look of pain in his eyes was evident.

"What are you talking about?" I asked him. I knew he said he didn't want to talk about it, but he started it. He couldn’t say something like that and expect me to keep quiet. Talking about it, getting it out in the open was a form of therapy, and I wanted to know who had done this to him, although I had a pretty good idea.

"My dad always blamed me for everything, told me I was a piece of shit on the bottom of his shoe, and that I'd never amount to anything. He said I screwed everything up just by being born. I guess he was right. I mean, just look at me and the mess I've made of my life, my career." His eyes met mine and he laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I spent my whole life growing up, having nothing, being told I was nothing, and when the guys asked me to join Dirty Affliction I thought, just maybe my life was starting to turn around. I thought maybe he was wrong. I'd show him, but I learned the fine art of using cocaine, among a few other bad habits from him, so I guess he's been right about me all along. I got myself kicked out of the band, and I'll probably lose everything I have. Hell, I don't know if I even have any money left. I've pissed it all away," he told me as he closed his eyes tight and let out a heavy breath.

"That's not true, Linc. It's not too late to turn things around. Whether you want to believe it or not, we all believe in you and want what's best," I told him, and hoped that he could see the sincerity in my eyes. "I want to help you, if you'll let me," I said, and before I could say anything else, the doctor in the white jacket walked into the room.

"Your blood work looks good, Mr. McKay," he said, getting right down to business. "Have you given any thought to what we discussed this morning?" he asked.

Linc's eyes lift to mine, and he looked so vulnerable lying there, and it did something to my heart. It's all I could do to fight back the tears, but I managed. I nodded, and gave him an encouraging smile to let him know that I was behind him.

"You think this is what I should do?" He asked me. "You meant what you said about helping me?" His tired eyes pleaded with me.

"Yes. You can do this. I know you can, and I'll be with you every step of the way, if you want," I promised.

He held my gaze for several, long moments before he turned back to the doctor and said, "Make the arrangements, and I'll go.”

I released the breath that I'd been holding, and gave him a warm smile. I meant every word of what I had said. I would be with him every step of the way, if that's what it took for him to get through this.

"You're making the right decision, Mr. McKay. I'll arrange everything and one of the nurses will be in with the paperwork for your signature within the hour. I'm not going to sugar coat it, it is going to be a tough road, but it will be worth it, I promise you," he said, and then turned and walked from the room, closing the door behind him.

Linc

Now that I had made the decision to get some help, the thought of drying out scared the hell out of me. I had heard many horror stories about seizures and vomiting your guts out, among other things, and I was not looking forward to that. It was why I had never done it. I always kept enough in my system to avoid those nasty symptoms, and now I had just agreed to go through with it willingly. My mind was like a tornado with thoughts of the life I had been living, along with thoughts of what I was about to put myself through. Then there was the question of what this beautiful woman was doing here, sitting by my side, holding my hand, and making promises to see me through this when she could be anywhere else. She had to be my guardian angel, sent here to watch over me. There was no other explanation for it. I had definitely never done anything worthy, but obviously someone sent her to me, and for that, I would be forever grateful. I knew there was something special about her from the moment I saw her. She was not only beautiful, out spoken, and a spitfire; she had a smile and a beauty within that drew me to her. I also knew that I needed to face the reality that once everything was said and done, and out in the open, she would more than likely decide that my sorry ass was not worth it. Hell, I knew I was not worth it, but, I would take it while I could, because no one had ever shown me that type of kindness.

"Okay, Mr. McKay, I've got the papers here for you to sign for your transfer. You'll be going to the Promise House in Los Angeles, where you'll spend six months to a year, depending on what the director feels you need, and the progress that you make. I understand that your manager is making travel arrangements for you. I'm sure he'll be speaking with you about that. I'll just leave these here for you, and I'll be back in a few minutes to see if you have any questions. If not, just sign the places that I've indicated and we'll move forward with the plans of getting you the help that you need," she explained, and laid the papers and a pen on top of the rolling table beside the bed before turning and leaving the room. I stared at the papers almost as if they were a snarling beast about to bite my hand off if I touched it.

"Do you want me to help you with those?" Honesty asked from the chair beside my bed. Her soft, silky voice wrapped around me like a warm hug, helping to ease my anxiety. This is it: the first step to a new life. Once I had read through the information and signed where indicated, I tossed the paper and pen back on top of the table for the nurse. Step Number One taken. I could now take a deep breath and check that one off of my list.

"I'm glad you're being transferred to Los Angeles. You'll be close enough to the condo that we can all visit as often as they'll allow," she said, breaking my thoughts. She made a good point: I had not even thought about the bands condo is in Los Angeles. That was where we all usually stayed while we were on break.

"You'll be staying there? I thought you had school. I mean, I thought I heard Jinx mention that you had re-enrolled in classes," I told her. No matter how much I wanted her close by, I would never ask her to leave school for my sorry ass.

"Of course, I'll be there. My classes are online, so it won't be like I'm missing anything," she told me, and I felt somewhat relieved to hear that she wouldn’t be giving it up. The remainder of the day flew by, and once the guys all stopped by to offer words of encouragement and leave, taking Honesty with them. Court and I left for the airport to board the plane headed for Los Angeles. My mind was once again a whirlwind of thoughts, some good and some not so good. I had twenty-four hours ahead of me to sort them out.

I was surprised when our limo pulled to a stop in front of a large stucco home with acres of trees, plush green grass, and a beautiful lake behind it. The place looked more like a resort instead of rehab, but the sign in front of the place confirmed that we are at the right place. We were greeted by a thin, gray haired man with glasses who led us into his office where he proceeded to explain their process for detox and therapy, both of which I was not looking forward to. I had to hand over my suitcase where a nurse searched through my things for any type of drugs or drug paraphernalia. My things were locked in a locker and would only be given to me with my physician’s approval. I said, “Goodbye” to Court and was led to my room, which consisted of a mattress on the floor with a pillow and a blanket.

Let the fun begin.

The doctor at the hospital had kept me on medication to keep me from detoxing. Now there will be no drugs to keep me comfortable. This would just be me; the nausea, sweats, the muscle pain, and body aches. I prayed that I didn’t have seizures, but if I did, I would just have to keep telling myself that it was my fault that I was there.