AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The degree of abusiveness is the only difference. It’s a big one, sure.
The general principle is the same: they’re all using Lindsay without any regard for her wishes.
I am the keeper of her volition.
If she has any.
I’m assuming she still does, no matter how buried it is.
I’d better be right.
My entire life hangs on the assumption that I’m right.
Which means I’m damn invested.
“Drew, we’re all on the same side,” Harry says with a sigh.
“I don’t think that’s true. I’m on Lindsay’s side and you’re on the Oval Office’s side.”
“I’m not having this argument with you.” The look he gives me adds the word again, though he won’t say it in front of the doctors. “We’re her parents. We’re her next of kin.” He looks at Higgs, then Belzan. “At what point do we determine our next step?”
“She’ll be healed enough to go home in three days or so. I’d say a psych eval in two days, and we go from there,” Dr. Higgs replies. “If she does need long-term inpatient psych care, they need to have physical therapy and occupational therapy rehab facilities.”
Harry gives him a sour look. “Lindsay will have everything she needs.”
“We’re not there yet,” Dr. Belzan objects. “She’s getting better day by day.”
“But still not speaking. Not engaging in direct eye contact,” Harry confirms.
“No.” Dr. Belzan’s shoulders drop as she says the word.
Harry stands. “Right.” He gives me a firm glare. “For now, you can have access to her. Don’t engage Monica again on this, Drew. It’s not black and white.”
I bite my tongue. I’ve said what I need to say. My jaw feels like I’m biting a piece of coal hard enough to form a diamond.
I jolt.
Diamond.
I give him a conciliatory smile, relief flooding through me. “Right. You’re right, Harry. It’s not black and white, and I promise to be more tactful with Monica.”
Surprise spreads through his features, his body language suddenly friendlier. “Glad you’re coming around to see that. We all want what’s best for Lindsay.”
A memory from four years ago, one I’ve tucked away in a locked box for too long, surfaces. My coat that night, left in my car as we went to the party.
The tiny velvet box in my breast pocket.
My sister, giving me that box when I was discharged from the hospital. Calling Harry to find out Lindsay had been shipped off to the Island while I had been hospitalized.
Funny.
The color of the velvet is gray.
A plan forms, the pieces falling into place like teeth on a series of gears, lining up perfectly. “Right, Harry. There’s always room for shades of gray,” I declare with a smile.
We thank the doctors and walk out together, Harry splitting off before I go in to see Lindsay. As I watch his form swallowed by an elevator, I press my back against the painted cinderblock wall, breathing slowly, letting memory be my mistress for a few fabulous moments. Playful and sweet, I can become a different me when memory takes over.
Lindsay doesn’t know this.
