Page 10 of The Trauma Response
“I’d find some other sort of law to practice and move on. It’s a career, Tulip, not your whole life. Speaking of which, you haven’tbeen to church since you left Mom and Dad’s. Pastor Scott has asked about you and said you’ve declined help from everyone who has offered to bring you meals.”
“Good golly, what is this? Whisper down the lane how horrible Tulip is? Can’t a woman have an accident that changes her entire life then get a few months of time to adjust? For crying out loud, just go home and leave me alone!”
“Tulip, I’m only trying to—”
I wave my hands around to interrupt him. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to take control of the situation, dictate my life to me, and make everything better. Well, news flash, little bro. You can’t make this better, I don’t want your help, and I don’t care what the people at church think. I’ll be back when I’m back.” I cross my arms with an indignant huff, knowing I’m behaving a little out of line. Our church family means well, no doubt, and I shouldn’t toss them into my giant ball of frustration…the collective ball that everyone I know and love has created because they cannot understand I want to be left alone to mourn. To get over it. To…who knows.
“That’s not fair. I love you, and I hate seeing you this way. If you won’t take my suggestions, then tell me what else I can do? Can I help you clean? Give you a fresh start so your mind can reset in a clean space? Maybe Deni can make you a few meals to freeze and reheat rather than you throwing your health away on junky pizza every day.” He practically winces at the very idea he might have to touch those moldy pizza boxes.
“Absolutely not.”
“Then what? Name it, and I’ll do it. I want my sister back.”
I groan. Now we seem to be on to guilting me into getting over it. “Nothing. In fact, don’t bother me again until I call you, okay?”
“Tul—”
“I mean it, Jackson. My life is over, and all you can think about is how I need to get over it to make you more comfortable. Well, I can’t. It would have been better if I had died in that accident. I wish I had, then I wouldn’t be reminded every single day that the one thing I was good at was taken away. The only dream I ever had, poof, gone.”
Jackson’s eyes go wide and his jaw falls open. “You don’t mean that. You can’t possibly think it would have been better todiethan to have to rethink your life a little.”
A beast rumbles to life inside of me. “A little? Alittle?I still have student loans to pay, and contrary to what you think, I can’t justhopover to another type of medicine. I’d have to go back to school, specialize, start at the bottom again. You don’t know anything, Jackson, so please, go home to your perfect life and leave me alone.”
Seething, I practically shove my brother out the door with what little energy I have. I can’t see anything straight at the moment, including the fact that I have scared him half to death. With so much pain and disappointment in my life now, I’m not even sure I know what I said, not fully. It felt right in the moment, but now all I want to do is go back to bed and sleep until next month.
Jackson says nothing more but lets me push him out and slam the door behind him. I lock it tight and lean against the back of it.
I said I’d rather I had died.
“Oh, my gosh. What am I doing?” I slide down the door until I’m in a heap on the floor, sobbing my eyes out. God knows I’m acting like a brat, carelessly throwing out the words that cut my brother to the core. Disrespecting my life in such a way is sinful, and I know it, but I can’t stop being angry. Can’t stop wondering if itwouldhave been better.
What if Ihaddied? I could have.
Mom and Dad would be beyond themselves, distraught in so many ways. Jackson and Deni would be too. I never should have said that to Jackson. I do still have a lot to live for, but it’s so hard to see that right now. All I can do is muster enough strength to drag myself back to bed, willing my body to justworkalready. Justfeel.
But I can’t. I’ll never have proper feeling in my hand again, and that’s enough to change my life forever. A life I had all figured out. At least, I thought I had. But with so many failed relationships and an aching, empty hole in my heart, I can’t help thinking maybe I didn’t. Maybe Jackson is right. I should get up, shower, clean up my mess, and try to figure my life out.
Tomorrow.
I’ll do it tomorrow. Right now, I’ll fall into my misery and sleep until I can’t sleep anymore.
Chapter six
“Cai, you’ve got a visitor!” Kempler yells through the side door.
I’m not expecting anyone, so curiosity almost kills me as I head out into the bay. To my surprise, Jackson Whitmore stands beside one of the engines chatting with a few of the guys. The moment he sees me, his demeanor relaxes. I have a bad feeling about this. We agreed we’d catch up, but I’ve been working a lot of overtime and haven’t had time to message him. Still, for him to show up unannounced gives me bad news vibes.
“Hey, wasn’t expecting to see you today. What’s up?” I ask and reach out to shake his hand.
“Uh, any chance we can chat in private for a sec?” His eyes dart toward the guys and my worry is validated.
Kempler nods toward the main room. “Let’s go clean up and get ready for training.” The men follow him even though he’s not in charge of anything, let alone dishing out orders.
Once the bay is clear, Jackson adjusts his stance and runs both hands through his hair. “Listen, I know we said we’d catch up and I haven’t called. It’s just been busy at the office and thingswith my sister are…I mean…Look, I know it’s been a long time and I have no right to ask this of you, but I need your help with Tulip.”
My heart rate increases and a heavy sensation settles in my gut. “What’s going on?”
Jackson sighs and leans against the truck. “When we visited last month, she was in decent spirits. She had hope that she’d regain feeling in her hand and get back to work soon, but it doesn’t look good. The neurologist said it could be a year or more, if she ever gets feeling back at all. She’s out of work now, and I honestly don’t think she’ll ever be a surgeon again.”
