recovery    

        Day 3

It was very late in the afternoon when the doctor finally came with the results of yesterday's EEG tests. We'd all stayed way behind visiting hours, waiting for the final answer.

The sunshine, not so warm as it had been earlier in the day, made his nameplate shine. "Dr. Whyman" it prenounced proudly in black and golden.

"Well...?" Dad opened, impatient. He'd spent the day restlessly trodding the hospital corridors.

"The test results came back positive"

I could hear everyone breath out, after having held their breaths in anticipation.

"So he can talk? He can hear us?"

"There is nothing wrong with your sons brain, mr. Moffatts. He's been very lucky"

I glanced over at Scott, asleep in the bed. White sterile bedsheets covered his thin frame, only his pale face and long slender arms could be seen.

But if he could hear us, why didn't he ever answer? Why didn't he talk, if he could? And last, what had bothered us all the past three days since I'd found him bleeding on the floor of his room: Why had he attempted suicide in the first place?


        Day 5

"Bob! We're leaving now!"

"Yeah, I'm coming D, I just wanna run up and check on Scott one more time"

"What are you afraid of? That he'll cut his wrists again, while you're not looking?"

I just stared at him, not believeing my ears.

"Okay, I'm sorry Bobby, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it..."

I nodded, accepting his appology. He was right. I had grown a habit of going to check on Scott whenever no one was with him in his room. Even though I knew that there was no way he could find a chance to hurt himself like that again, I kept worrying. I guess finding my brother in a puddle of his own fresh blood had shook me up a bit. It made me want to make sure he didn't get the chance to repeat his actions, atleast not when I was around.

"Bob, it wasn't your fault..."

"No, it was. You know as well as I do that I could have stopped him. I was the only one there, and if I'd gone down to his room just a few minutes later..."

I couldn't bring myself to finish. I know Dave remembered what Dr. Whyman had said to us the first night. Just five minutes, give or take, had meant life or death for Scott. Life, death or permanent brain damage.

Dave swallowed. I didn't wait for him to talk back, trying to convince me that I shouldn't feel guilty. Instead I quickly walked away, heading for the elevators.

I stopped and thought for a bit as I walked down the hallway to Scott's room. 371, wasn't it? Yeah, I remembered the number clearly. That was his room. But that wasn't anyone I recognized standing in the doorway.

"Excuse me" I said to the young girl, and she jumped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you..."

She calmed down from the shock my appearance had been, and smiled. She was a cute girl, around my own age, very thin, with long dark brown hair. But it was her eyes that stood out the most; they were pale grey, with a dull glow to them.

"No, it's okay. I'm Kaitlyn" She extended her hand towards me.

"My name's Bob" I encasped her petite hand in mine, and squeezed it gently.

"I was looking at him..." She bit her lip and pointed into the room, at Scotts seemingly sleeping figure. "What's his name?"

"Scott"

"Is he your brother?" She looked at me again.

"Yeah. He's a year older than... me"

There was no need to begin explaining that I was a triplet and that we were a band. She didn't seem to notice my slight hesitation before changing 'us' to 'me'.

"What's he got?"

"Huh?"

"What does he have? He must have something, since he's in the isolation ward of the state hospital..." A slight smile quirked in the corner of her mouth.

"Isolation ward...?"

"Yeah. Single rooms and continius check ups to make sure you havn't been bad"

"Bad?"

I noticed how my part of the conversation limited to short questions that to her must have seemed stupid.

"Everybody's bad in a different way here..." she paused. "I'm bad when I hide food, or refuse to eat"

"Oh. You've got anorexia?" I tried not to let my eyes wander up and down her skinny body again, too obviously.

"Mmhm"

"Why don't you throw up then? Instead of hiding your food, I mean... Isn't that what anorectics do?"

"Yeah" She scoffed. "They're too smart here. you're not alone for a second. And they lock your bathroom"

"Oh" Unable to think of something more to say, I shifted my weight over on the other leg.

An akward silence began. I felt strongly calmed after her little explanation. If they watched over her like that, they probably did with Scott too.

"So, what's he got... your brother?"

"Oh, he hasn't got anything. I mean, he just..." How does one explain that? "He tried to kill himself"

"Oh" Her turn to not know what to say. "I'm sorry..."

"Yeah" I nodded shortly, feeling uncomfortable. Suddenly I remembered the conversation with Dave, and that my family was down by the car, waiting for me. "Uhm, I have to go..."

"Okay" She looked down, still affected by what I'd said. "Maybe I'll see you around again. Sometime"

"Maybe. Take care Kaitlyn"

"Bye Bob"

---

Not knowing why, she eventually entered, after having watched silently from the door for a while. He wasn't really sleeping, and she knew it. He'd been listening to their conversation.

As she approached the bed, he turned, opened his eyes and sat up, looking back at her with a half interested expression.

"Hello"

No responce.

"I'm Kaitlyn"

Nothing.

"Do you want to be left alone... Scott?"

A shrug of his shoulders was all she got. As if he meant to say 'whatever'.

"Well. I'll go then"

"No..."

She turned, surprised by the very rusty voice that had spoken.

"Okay... Then I'll stay"

He seemed pleased, but the darkness of his eyes told her that this was going to be a very one-sided conversation.


        Day 8

"For the last time, talk to me!" Dad kept pacing around the chair he sat in. "Speak Scott, speak! We know you can!"

I cringed. it was obvious, atleast to me, that dad only made Scott pull away more by yelling and screaming at him like that.

"Please Scottie, just say a word, just tell us why... Please?"

I felt sick, watching my father literally beg on his knees for his firstborn son to talk to him. Respond. Anything.

But Scott just kept staring out into nothing. And didn't utter a word.

Later that day, when Sheila'd gathered everyone in the hospital cafeteria for a late dinner (They began to be normal for us by now). I finished as soon as I could, to go up and get some precious time alone with him. I had this ridicilous hope that if I just had enough time with him, one on one, then I'd get him to talk to me.

But as I once again came down the hallway, I stopped to think. Not because there was somebody there like last time, but because the door was closed. The doors in this ward were only closed if there was a visitor in the room.

Who was in there with Scott, when it wasn't the hour for doctors visit, and all of us where downstairs having dinner?

Sneaking up to the door, I leaned close to listen. I almost jolted back, hearing a low voice say something, and a lighter voice reply.

I barely registered the closing footsteps, and stepped back just seconds before she opened the door to room 371 and came out.

"Kaitlyn..."

"Oh, hi" She tried to cover up her shock of being caught red handed with a smile.

I didn't respond, knowing that he was listening. I just grabbed her hand, and pulled her away, mumbeling shortly: "Your room. Now"

She pulled at her hand, but when I wouldn't let go, she gave up and without a word led me to her own hospital room further down the corridor.

"Let go of me Bob" She finaly said as I closed the door behind us. I did, and leaned to the wall.

"He talks to you"

"Of course he does. So? Is that your reason for dragging me here?" Her face portrayed surprise and she rubbed her wrist.

"He hasn't spoken to anyone since..."

There was a short pause, and I could clearly see how her defence fell and her face softened.

"I didn't know that"

"What do you talk about? What does he say? Has he mentioned... the accident?"

We both knew very well that it was no accident Scott's wrists had been sliced open with a razorblade, but we left it at that. No need to argue over details, and besides, I still couldn't comprehend with the idea of my brother not wanting to live anymore.

"We talk about that, yeah. But I can't tell you what he says. And please don't tell your parents that he speaks to me..."

"Why not?"

"You say he refuses to talk to them, and to you. Well if he finds out that I'm passing on what he says..."

"Then he'll stop talking to you too"

"That's what I'm afraid of"

It was hard accepting that I couldn't be the one Scott opened up to, but I realised that it was better that he did at all, rather than never ever talk again. To anyone.
Or sing.

"Okay, I won't ask. And I won't tell a soul"

"Promise?"

"Yeah" I nodded. "Just tell me... Do you think he'll try again?"

She thought for a bit.

"I doubt it. Sometimes he regrets... doing what he did, and he never gave the impression that he would want to repeat it"

I breathed out, relieved. Right now, that was all that I needed to know.

Taking the time to look around, I noticed the untouched dinnerplate on the table next to her bed.

"I'm gonna go into him now, you eat your food"

She just frowned back, and I left.


        Day 14

She looked up as he entered through the open door, and closed it after him.

"Scott!"

"...Hey"

"Where've you been? I went to your room..."

"I've seen a psychiatrist that they want me to start going to"

"Oh, okay. Come, sit down..."

There weren't any chairs in the room, so he sat down on her bed, next to her.

"Why're you coming to see me? I've never seen you out of your room before, I thought you weren't alowed..."

"I'm leaving"

"Leaving...?"

"Tomorrow morning" His eyes averted and he looked down. "They're taking me home"

"Oh, well... I'm happy for you"

He lifted his head, looking at her, and she shifted closer. Yesterday, they'd kissed... She wanted to feel his lips against hers again. But when she pressed her mouth to his, there was no softness, no gentle fumbeling like it'd been the day before. Raw and desperate need for closeness to another human being soared from him to her.

She willingly fell back to the matrass when he pushed her shoulder. With his weight over her, suddenly all their clothes had been discarded. She could sense his impatientness, and didn't object. All she did was whisper softly, and he nodded.

A short sting of pain was all she felt before other sensations began taking over. His eyes darkened in tune with his breath growing short, and a whimper escaped his lips. Shortly after, his body tensed up, and fell together atop of hers. She felt warm and content with an arm loosely wrapped around his back.

Nothing needed to be said. They both knew everything already.


        Day 18

Things changed when we got him home.

I was glad, cause I'd feared that breaking the bond he'd developed to Kaitlyn would make him worse. To my surprise, he was more a part of our everyday life again.

Even though he still didn't talk, it was clear to everyone that his will to live had come back. His eyes glittered when he though himself unseen.

I'd seen him smile. It was a secret smile, like he was dwelling in a memory that made him grin a bit when remembering it. It had been a very personal moment, so I had backed away when I caught him like that.

All this made me stop worrying completely. I didn't hysterically follow him with my eyes, or continiously make sure he was alive, like I'd done during the two weeks at the hospital.

Even dad had calmed. He didn't try and force Scott to talk anymore.

Everything ran smoothly until one early morning when I was brutally awakened by an intense voice, demanding my attention.

"Bob! BOB! Wake up! Please, you have to wake up!"

My eyelids fluttered, and I tried to focus.

"Scott? What? What's going on...?"

Hold on... Scott? Was it Scotts face that hung over me? Was it his lips moving? His voice talking?

"We have to go to the hospital"

I shook my head to wake up, trying hard to pretend that having a conversation with my oldest brother was an everyday thing.

"What? Why?"

"Now!"

He stared at me intently, begging. Okay. I don't argue with that face.

Somehow I got in my clothes and into the drivers seat of dad's car. I might be the one without a licence, but atleast I knew for sure that I'd get us to the right place - and in one piece.

Arriving, I barely had time to park before Scott ran out, and I had difficulties keeping up with him. By now it'd dawned on me what was going on, and why it was so important that we had to be here at 5 in the morning.

Kaitlyn.

We found her down in the emergency room, after being told by the nurse outside her empty room where she was. Her parents were there, and apparantly her mother recognised Scott. It must have been from Kaitlyns description, cause I was sure they hadn't met before. I don't know, but she let us in.

Kaitlyn was lying on the operation table still, dying. Her mother mumbeled something about a series of heart attacks. I could see a doctor hang her head and shake it lightly.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Scott knelt by her side, holding her hand. The only thing that moved was her eyes.

"It's over" Her mother whispered, voice tear filled. "It's time to let go and say goodbye"

I could see how badly he wanted to object, how he wanted to fight for her, but she was right. It was over. Kaitlyns heart was giving up. She'd worn it out. Day by day she'd slowly killed herself, by starving her body to death.

---

Dad, Sheila, Dave and Clint all sat in the living room when we came back.

It'd taken hours before the last fatal heart attack had come, and we'd watched her die. Her mom had held her close, and Scott had squeezed her hand. It'd been very peaceful and not like any of the images I had of death at all.

"Where have you been? We called the police..."

"We've been so worried!"

Everyone aimed their questions at me, but it was Scott who spoke, silencing the entire room with his voice.

"I loved her, you know"

I met his eyes.

"I know you did"

He smiled slightly, and suddenly I felt so tired. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and together we walked up the stairs, completely ignoring the four pairs of eyes that watched, speecheless.



Writing Recovery, August 2000