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Eli, sensing my struggle, places his arms underneath mine to help me to my feet. Once I’m upright, he leads me back to my bed, gently placing me inside and covering me up. The immediate warmth of the covers gives me temporary relief from my affliction.
“Thank you,” I say, gratefully. Despite our differences—whatever they are—Eli still cares.
“Can I get you a drink of anything?”
“Water would be good, thanks.”
He disappears a minute or two and reappears with a glass of water and something else in his hands. I take both, frowning at the tablets he’s given me.
“It’s Tylenol. Eleanor said you’d need them.”
A flurry of annoyance dances in my belly. Both of them think I drank or took something last night and now I’m hungover.
Despite my body aching, I place the tablets aside. A childish maneuver, I know, but I’m sick of people accusing me of things I’m not doing. A few days ago I couldn’t attest to my previous behavior, but I certainly can now.
“I’m not hungover,” I say, taking a sip of the cool water.
Eli doesn’t answer. Instead, he walks into my bathroom, where I hear him clattering about. I wonder what it is he’s doing until I hear him flush the toilet. My face heats with embarrassment. He’s cleaning up my mess.
He appears in the doorway, his face stony.
“Thank you for doing that.”
“It’s not the first time,” he answers, cutting that imaginary knife into my belly. I glance away, hurt, embarrassment wrangling its way through my body. “The doctor should be here soon.”
Without looking at me, he walks out, leaving me with only the four walls and my glass of water for company.
My heart sinks at the injustice I feel. It’s stupid, as given what I’ve learnt so far about myself, I deserve every minute of Eli’s aloof, cold shoulder. It’s still there, though, peck, peck, pecking away in my head until I think I’m going to scream.
This isn’t me! This isn’t who I am! I wish he would believe me.
I don’t know how long I’m lying there for before a man who looks to be in his fifties with a brown hair, beard, and glasses walks in with a Gladstone bag, Eli following behind him, looking distressed.
“I will leave you two to it,” Eli states now that he knows the doctor is with me.
He’s about to leave when I call his name. “Please stay.”
Both the doctor and Eli glance at each other—whether in disbelief or in acknowledgement of my wishes, I can’t tell. Either way, paranoia is rearing its head. I want Eli to be here. I want him to see and hear everything so that he knows I’m not hiding anything from him.
I’m not a monster.
I’m not a monster.
“You’re looking very pale,” the doctor states, getting his stethoscope out. “Tell me what happened.”
I relay all the information pertaining to the chills that woke me up and the violent vomiting. All the while the doctor listens to my chest, checks my eyes and my BP, and takes my temperature.
“I’ve not touched a drink or drugs in three days,” I add, hoping the doctor doesn’t immediately draw that conclusion.
The doctor exhales as he takes out a prescription pad. “If you were planning to quit cold turkey, you should have called me. It’s dangerous, Kendra. You can’t just quit and think that everything will be okay again. I applaud you for doing so, but you’ve inevitably put your life at risk.”
My shocked, tired eyes reach Eli’s concerned and perplexed ones. Without the words, I know he cares, but I equally see the doubt still.
“I didn’t know… I…”
“I understand,” the doctor replies, smiling softly. “But you need to take medication in order to gradually wean you from the drugs and alcohol in your body.” He scribbles something down on a pad and hands it to me. “Take these for a month and I will be back to see you in a couple of days. Make sure to keep hydrated, and if you have any pain, heart palpitations, or disorientation, you call an ambulance immediately.”
Eli instantly motions his hand towards the prescription. “I will make sure she gets these.”
