Learning Curve

Monday April 14th

Scottie

I woke up this morning thinking I was the Scottie before my accident, but the harsh truth is that that girl doesn’t exist anymore. My dad and Wren sleep uncomfortably on a pullout sofa, and Finn hunches over a chair, none of them willing to leave my room to rest anywhere else.

Time feels short and endlessly long at the same time. It feels like yesterday and ten years ago that I was walking out onto the mat at Nationals, completely naïve to the fact that it would be my last time cheering.

That it would be my last competition.

That it would be the last time I did stunts. Danced. Stood on my own two feet.

“You need anything from downstairs?” Finn asks, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. I have no idea what I look like at this point, but I can only assume it’s horrible.

Wren was nice enough to brush my hair last night while she tried to distract me with reruns of Grey’s Anatomy—one of our favorite binge shows—but I haven’t had anything more than a sponge bath in over three days. I washed my makeup off myself in a water-filled bowl, but having done it without a mirror, I can still feel some of the dry, hard spots I missed every time I move my face.

“Scottie?” Finn questions again, his voice almost annoyingly gentle. I know it’s his way of trying to comfort me, but the stark difference between his voice now and the one he used when he snuck into my hotel room Thursday night is just another reminder of what will never be again.

I fight to keep my voice from shaking with anger as I answer him. “No thanks.”

“I’ll be right back.” He presses a kiss to my forehead and heads out the door, most likely to get lunch from the hospital cafeteria for Wren, my dad, and himself.

The lunch tray one of the staff brought in for me is still sitting untouched on my bedside table. It’s hard to have an appetite for anything when you know that you can’t control your bladder or bowels. I’ve never felt so much shame and embarrassment as I did this morning when a nurse had to literally clean me up because I soiled my bed.

Wren stands up from the sofa to come sit on the edge of my bed. “You doing okay?” she asks, but her eyes have a serious edge to them that makes my head tilt.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Don’t get mad, but Mom is here,” she answers, and her mouth forms a self-conscious cringe. “I told her about what happened, and I didn’t think she’d show up, but she’s here. She’s on her way up to your room.”

I don’t even know what to say other than are you fucking kidding me, but I don’t have time because moments later, my mother’s face appears outside the door.

She’s hesitant and uncertain as she locks her gaze with mine, but Wren is so oblivious that she just gestures for her to come inside.

“Hi, honey,” she greets as she closes the distance between the door and my bed. She has a stupid bouquet of flowers in her hands, and she finds an empty spot between all the other flowers and balloons and bears that other people have sent me.

“I can’t believe you had the balls to come here,” I say simply, startling a gasp from Wren.

“Scottie.”

It’s not my sister’s fault that I didn’t tell her what happened before winter break, but I don’t really give a damn anymore. It’s not my fault that I fell out of my basket toss, but I’m paralyzed all the same.

Shit comes at you fast in life, and you’d better be ready for the changes.

“I’m not the bad guy here,” I say with a shake of my head. “She’s the one who’s been lying to you about being sober. She’s the one who hasn’t told you the truth about what she did to me in December. If she’s going to have the audacity to come here, knowing all the shit she’s put me through, she’s going to deal with the consequences.”

“Mom, what’s she talking about?” Wren questions as my dad climbs to his feet.

“What’s going on, Stephanie?”

“It’s nothing,” my mom answers, ignoring every mangled bit of her responsibility again, and it’s enough to push me over the edge.

“It’s nothing?” I exclaim. “It’s fucking everything, and you know it!”

“Scottie, baby, calm down,” my dad comforts as the alarms on my monitors start to get excited.

“Mom?” my sister presses. “What is she talking about?”

Shame and embarrassment fold my mom in on herself, her mouth clamped shut as Wren and my dad look to her for answers. I don’t feel badly for her at all. She did this to the both of us.

I don’t hold back. “If she won’t tell you, I will, Wren. Mom showed up on campus back in December—according to her, looking for me. But you know how college campuses can be, and hah, what do you know? She got lost and went to a party on sorority row instead, got wasted, and had sex with a college student.”

“What?” my father exclaims. “Are you fucking kidding me, Stephanie?”

“Mom?” Wren questions, pain and discomfort and total shock evident in the stark lines of her normally beautiful face.

“I had the horrible pleasure of seeing it happen with my own two eyes, and everyone on campus found out about it when a particularly shitty coed of mine posted it online. I was officially labeled the girl with the alcoholic mom who has sex with college guys, and I lost fifteen pounds I didn’t have to lose, rotting away in my dorm because I was afraid to go outside.”

Wren’s horrified eyes turn to me with concern. My mom has the nerve to start crying.

“I’m so sorry, Scottie. I am so, so sorry,” she says through her tears. “I regret it every day. Every single day, I regret what happened. I regret it so much and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

“I want her out of my room,” I say. “Now.”

My dad doesn’t hesitate to jump into action, stepping forward to gently grip my mom’s arm and guide her to the door. But before she goes willingly, she pulls something out of her purse and sets it on my bedside table.

“I’m sorry, girls. I’m so sorry,” she says one last time, and then, she willingly leaves the room with our dad.

“Scottie,” Wren whispers, emotion in her throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

When I see her tears, her sadness, it makes it impossible for me to stay strong. I’m an asshole for doing it like this, but I can’t take it back. Tears of my own flood my eyes and flow down my cheeks. “I knew it would hurt you.” I laugh sardonically. “Turned out a whole lot better with you finding out now, huh?”