“Was there anyone…”Jesus, how do I ask this?“Did I hurt anyone?” I’m so fucking embarrassed. I’m so angry at myself I want to scream, curl up into this hospital bed until it swallows me whole. I feel tears collecting in the corner of my eyes but I push them down.
“No, it doesn’t seem there were any other cars or people around at the time. The police are going to want to question you and get your statement though. They’ll be waiting outside when you’re ready.” My dad is hovering in the corner, his arm on my mom’s shoulder glaring at me. His face is cold, hard, impatient. Fuck, he’s going to kill me. He’s never going to speak to me again.
I swallow, my mouth dry and gritty, and look away from them. “Okay. How soon will I be able to play again?” I wonder.
“We’re going to keep you another night for observation. But you don’t appear to have a concussion or anything else that might require an extensive stay here. I’d say a few weeks and once those ribs are healed you can be cleared to play.”
“Okay. Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“A word of advice?” I nod. “If you are going to be drinking that heavily, it is imperative you do not get behind a wheel. You could have died or killed someone else. You are very lucky to be alive,” she pauses, taking in my reaction. Then she continues, her voice quieter. “There are a lot of great mental health resources and addiction services available at this hospital. I’d be happy to make a referral or recommendation if you need one,” she smiles politely.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, Farrah, that was helpful. I think Kai could use some rest now though,” my father remarks, effectively shutting her up and shooing her out the door. Of course my father knows her by name. He worked here as a surgeon early on in his career.
“Dad, I’m really sorry,” my voice cracks on the last word. He holds his hand up as if to say enough.
“This is the last time we will speak of this foolishness. You’ve been given everything,everything, and you choose to squander it. Why? I would have killed for the opportunities you have,” he fumes. “The Bucks director of PR is already spinning a story, controlling the narrative so you come out of this looking relatively decent. The team lawyers have gotten the charges dropped. All you have to do is your part, which is to stop fucking up. You think you can manage that?” he snaps. My mom stares at him in shock but remains silent. Good. I deserve his wrath, his anger.
There’s something wrong with me. I’m not right,I want to say. And the longer it goes on, the harder it is to admit it, to try and resolve it.
I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. The conversation has spiraled so out of control I have no idea how to get it back. I have a few bruises and scrapes but over time, those will heal. I haven’t killed anyone but I could have. I’ve forced my mom to endure the aftermath of another traumatic car accident. And I’m just getting another slap on the wrist.
How long can I narrowly evade death? How many times can I tempt fate and be rewarded for it?
This isn’t me. This isn’t who I am, or at least it isn’t who I want to be. I don’t willingly endanger myself and other people out of pure stupidity. I’m blowing up my life and watching as the pieces scatter like ash around me. I have to fix this. Now. Today. Yesterday.
I’ve been selfish, immature, and reckless. Not to mention my deplorable behavior won’t change one goddamn thing.
It has to stop.
Chapter 44
Kendall
Ipickmyheadupoff the couch and that simple movement alone is excruciating. I peek at my phone, even though the brightness of my screen adds to my overall discomfort. It’s only 9:00 but somehow it feels like it’s three in the morning. Akio is probably already asleep at my moms’ house.
They called earlier to see if we wanted to come to dinner. When I answered my phone, I was already running a 101 fever and sounded pretty fucking terrible. After I coughed for the first minute of the conversation, they offered to take Akio for the weekend and would not take no for an answer. Which is for the best. I’m quite certain I’m approaching death, or something eerily similar. My head is heavy, like it’s been stuffed with cotton, my throat hoarse and sore, my nose won’t stop running, and my chest is burning from all the coughing fits. Small things like moving from my bed to the couch take an astronomical amount of energy. But the couch is prime real estate, situated directly in front of the TV. And the only thing distracting me from the prison that is currently my body, is reruns ofThe Office.
An incoming call that makes my head vibrate with pain interrupts me from my obligatory illness related wallowing. It’s Kai. I let it go to voicemail and start drafting a text to him, but before I can send it, he calls again.
“Hello?” I croak.
“Ken? What’s wrong?” His voice is coated with concern.
“I was just about to”cough“text you”cough“I think I have the flu.”
“Shit. You sound awful. Is Akio sick too?”
I turn over onto my side and let the phone balance precariously on my cheek. Holding it up to my ear is too much effort.
“No. My moms’ took him for the weekend so I could get some rest.”
“Okay, but who is taking care of you?” he asks, which is such a Kai thing for him to say.
“I’m fine,”cough. “My moms brought me soup, and I have some leftover cold medicine from the last time we were sick.” At least I think I do. My thoughts are starting to become hazy, and slightly incoherent.
“Ken,” he insists, “I’m coming over. The flu has been bad this year. A lot of people have gone to the hospital—"
