Something Like Lightning (26 page)

“I know the root. I’m missing a leg and I want it back. What’s the solution?”

Bonnie thought about it. “Okay, I’ve got nothing. Including more pills. What happens when they run out?”

Kelly glanced over at her and smiled wickedly. “Have you had your wisdom teeth out yet?”

“Not a chance!” Bonnie said, eyes widening. “You know how I feel about dentists and doctors. I’m not going under the drill just so you can get high!”

“Worth a shot,” Kelly said, opening the safety lid.

Bonnie put a hand over his to stop him. “Do me a favor and wait until after group. I don’t want you acting all weird. Or barfing while I’m trying to mac on some hottie.”

Kelly considered her and shrugged. He could wait. Just having the pills as an option made him feel happier. Besides, his mood was usually good during group. Everyone there was an outsider—different than the norm. When he first showed up after the accident, there had been hugs and relief that the wreck hadn’t cost him his life. That was it. Gay people were survivors by default. They understood how useless pity was. Perseverance was part of the daily grind. So they treated Kelly as they always had. Sure, a few of them tended to fetch things he needed, and Layne kept asking for the unused shoe whenever Kelly bought a new pair. Lord only knew what he did with them all. Most likely he just thought it was funny, and that was fine. On with the show.

Kelly’s spirits remained high throughout the meeting. Keith lectured them on the importance of family, and Bonnie complained about the lack of new lesbians joining. Her months-long dry spell continued. On the drive home she joked about hooking up with a feminine guy instead. “It’s the next best thing,” she insisted. “We won’t be able to do more than dry hump with our clothes on, but I’ll take what I can get at this point.”

Kelly laughed, one hand in his pocket to fondle the little plastic bottle. Bonnie hung out with him and his family for a few hours. Video games, caramel popcorn, and some tunes in her car before she had to go. When she did, Kelly felt so happy he decided he didn’t need the pills. Then he thought of William, wondering if he’d show up for dinner or wait until afterwards. Either way, just the thought of facing him again, of wanting to be perfect for him despite that no longer being possible... The happiness drained from Kelly like he’d been poked full of holes. He went back inside, grabbed a Coke from the fridge, and returned to his room. Once there he considered the pills.

Whatever they had given him after the accident had been strong. Way stronger than what they would prescribe a wispy girl barely in her teens. Kelly decided to double the recommended dose. Popping four pills into his mouth, he put on some music, sat on his bed, and waited. Twenty minutes later he felt an edge of warmth creeping into his system. Half an hour later and his head was humming like an air conditioner on a hot summer day. Kelly rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. He felt like he was floating, his body listing gently back and forth. He thought of William, love bursting from his chest with such strength that it was almost overwhelming. The hate was gone. Kelly felt like reaching for his phone to call William, just to hear his voice. He’d apologize for everything. All the bad things. Kelly would excuse himself, and then tell William to hurry back so they could start over again.

But first he needed to close his eyes, just for a moment, so he could marinate in these waves of bliss.

Kelly wasn’t sleeping. Not exactly. A trance? Is that what this was? His body felt far away, his mind happy to entertain thoughts and images with little form and even less purpose. Most of all he was content, which made it all the more jarring when someone shook him.

“Kelly? Oh Jesus! Honey, wake up!”

He opened his eyes a fraction, wincing against the volume of his mother’s voice. Then his lids shot open because she was holding the prescription bottle, lips moving as she read the chemical name. Then she turned and shouted another name.

“Doug! Get in here! Something’s wrong with Kelly!”

“I’m fine,” he grunted. “Calm down.”

His mother turned to him, her relief only fleeting. “How many of these did you take?”

“Just one,” he lied.

“Why do you even have them?”

“Phantom pain,” he lied again.

His mother shook her head. “These aren’t for you. If you’re having problems, we’ll go see the doctor.”

“They wouldn’t give me any more painkillers. You know that.”

“So you asked Bonnie’s sister for these?”

Kelly sighed. He needed to keep blame away from that family. The last thing he wanted was his mother to start making phone calls. “I took them myself. I was looking for aspirin at her house when I noticed them.”

“You stole these?”

“They were trash,” he said. “They made Eli sick, and she didn’t need them anymore.”

“You don’t either,” his mother said. “You only need what the doctor gives you.”

Kelly didn’t agree, but what really upset him was his mother walking out of the room. With his pills. “Wait,” he said, sitting up. “I’m fine. You know that, right?”

“I don’t know that, but I’m getting your father.”

“Okay, but hold on. Just leave the pills here, all right? You don’t know what it’s like. My leg hurts.”

“Then we’ll take you to the doctor.”

“They won’t give me what I need!” Kelly said, his temper rising, even through the fog of opiates. “If they do, it’ll be the same pills, so there’s no sense in them going to waste.”

His mother looked him square in the eye. “I’m getting rid of these pills, young man.” She turned to leave again.

“Fucking stop!” Kelly shouted. He tried to stand to go after her, and he made it a few hops, but his head was still swimming and he lost his balance. Before Kelly could right himself, he toppled over, slamming a shoulder against the dresser. The pain came slower than it might have usually, but it was still enough to make him wince.

“Doug!” his mother shouted, tossing the pills aside and kneeling to help him. Royal showed up first, then his father. Kelly, feeling humiliated, was helped to the bed. He rubbed his shoulder, ignoring his mother’s tears and his father’s questions. Instead he stared at the carpet, where the bottle of pills sat. Then he made himself look away, hoping they would be forgotten.

“I’m fine,” he said, answering their questions at last. “Everyone is freaking out over nothing.”

“Are you
really
overdosing?” Royal asked skeptically. “Wouldn’t you be puking? Or convulsing.”

“Exactly,” Kelly said, grateful for his brother’s big mouth. Now he just needed everyone out of his room. And away from the pills. “Isn’t it dinnertime? Let’s go. We can talk while we eat.”

“What’s going on?” William appeared in the doorway, took in the concerned expressions, and rushed into the room. His foot kicked the pills, causing a rattle. When he heard the noise, he stooped to pick up the bottle, face still concerned. “Is everyone okay? What happened?”

Kelly didn’t answer. Instead he felt anger as his mother snatched the bottle of pills from William and left the room, shaking her head as if it were his fault. It wasn’t, but Kelly couldn’t help noticing that, once again, William had inadvertently cost him his happiness.

Allison Cross, LPC, NCC Kelly kept glancing between the name plate on the desk and the actual woman. Allison was currently stapling together papers that his mother had filled out. While doing so, she idly chatted about last night’s thunderstorm, which had brought down both trees and power lines. The words were mostly lost on Kelly, as he tried to decipher what the abbreviations after her name meant. Licensed Pill Curer? Narcs Can’t Crave? Neither was remotely likely. He knew at least one “C” stood for counselor, because that’s who he was here to see.

So far he wasn’t impressed. Allison didn’t have her own secretary. The small waiting room held only a few chairs, all of them empty. People weren’t exactly lining up to have their heads examined by her.

“Ready?” she asked.

Kelly nodded. He didn’t have a choice.

Allison opened the door to another room, this one larger and more impressive. Kelly swung in on his crutches, noticing two couches facing a table. To one side was the classic reclining-patient couch with a chair next to it. No way was he doing that. He headed for the couch, noticing that his mother had remained in the waiting room, the door to it shut now. He took a seat, Allison sitting directly opposite him on the other couch.

Kelly avoided looking at her, choosing instead to examine the many potted plants. Or the fat candle with three wicks, which seemed superfluous since plenty of natural light came from the large window on the far wall.

“Hello there!” The woman waved to get his attention. “I’m Allison. Nice to meet you.”

“Kelly,” he responded. Was this the first test because... “We already did intros in the front room.”

“I know,” Allison said, “but sometimes when I show up somewhere new, I get a little flustered and the details pass me by. Especially if I’m nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Kelly insisted.

“Great. How are you feeling?”

Aside from nervous? He considered the question. Allison watched him with wide eyes. She looked concerned and genuinely interested, but then again, that was her job. He decided to be honest. At least it would give him a chance to vent. “I’m upset,” he answered.

“Okay. What about?”

“I don’t want to be here. I shouldn’t be because I’m not crazy.”

“Definitely not,” Allison said easily. “If you were, you wouldn’t be talking to me.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a counselor, not a psychologist. I’m not here to diagnose or prescribe medicine. I’m just here so we can talk. And maybe we can work through a few of your problems along the way.”

“I already have friends I can talk to,” Kelly said.

“Sure, but sometimes a fresh perspective can be invaluable. It’s also nice to have someone you can trust with your secrets. Some things you can’t say to your friends because the truth might hurt their feelings. You don’t have to worry about my feelings, Kelly, and your secrets are safe with me.”

He considered her again. This was all a trap, right? Then again, what did he have to lose? The worst of it was out already. “I took a few pills the other night,” he said. “My mom found them and flipped. Now she thinks I’m a pill junkie like my Aunt Mary, which is ridiculous, because I’m pretty sure you need a steady supply of pills before you can become an addict.”

“That would certainly make it easier,” Allison said. “So what drove you to take those pills?”

“The pain,” Kelly answered instantly.

“Your leg?”

Kelly huffed.

Allison studied him a moment. “Ah, that sort of pain. I can relate. I used to get pretty blitzed in college. In retrospect, I wasn’t just drinking to feel drunk. I was drinking to stop myself from feeling other things.” “Like what?”

“The pain caused by my father’s death. I’d get a little drunk, and usually start crying over it all, but I knew if I kept drinking, I wouldn’t feel a thing. Well, besides plastered that night and hungover the next morning. But at the time I thought the discomfort was worth it. What about you?”

“I don’t have any booze to get plastered with.”

“No, I mean why do you take pills? The buzz feels good, but is there something you’re trying to escape?”

“Myself,” Kelly answered, his throat feeling tight. Allison nodded as if this made sense, but it couldn’t, because Kelly barely understood it himself.

“If you could travel back in time one year and give yourself a bottle of pills, do you think the Kelly from back then would take them?”

“No,” he said instantly. “I didn’t need them then.”

“Why not?”

“Because that Kelly had everything. Maybe I didn’t realize it then, but I had it all.”

“And now you don’t?”

Kelly frowned. “Nope.”

“Tell you what,” Allison said. She slid a pad of paper across the table to him. Then she tossed him a pen, forcing him to catch it. “Why don’t you make me a list of all the things you’ve lost in the past year. Take your time. I’m going to sit here playing Bejeweled on my phone. It’s a dumb game, but personally, I can never concentrate if I know someone is staring at me.”

“You want me to write down what I’ve lost?” Kelly asked incredulously.

“Yup.” Allison already had her phone out and was pressing buttons. “Oh! Be sure to write ‘What I’ve Lost’ at the top and underline it. That’ll make it feel more official.”

He stared at her, but she didn’t laugh. In fact, she already seemed completely absorbed in her game. Well, she wouldn’t get much play time out of him. This was going to be a very short list. He wrote out the title of the paper, just as she asked, then on the first line he wrote the first and last entry.

My leg.

Simple as that. He was about to hand back the pad of paper when he hesitated. Maybe it wasn’t so simple. His parents had made him attend an amputee support group once, and some of the people were chipper and cheerful. He didn’t understand how that was possible. He certainly didn’t feel optimistic, so he added another line to the paper. Then another and another. Before he knew it, he had a list of eight. He reread it, feeling vulnerable by how much truth had been spelled out in so few words.

“I’m finished,” he mumbled.

Allison pressed a few more buttons, then tossed aside her phone as if she’d been burnt. “Ugh! So addictive. And so very pointless. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Instead of scanning the list in silence, she read each line aloud. “Your leg.”

“It’s no longer there,” he explained patiently.

“Fair enough. Next one. Happiness?”

“That’s right.”

“You never feel happy anymore? Not ever?”

Kelly hesitated. “Maybe I should have written satisfaction instead. Or contentment.”

“There aren’t any wrong answers. I’m just trying to make sure I understand you. As for your handwriting, I
will
have to take points off your final grade.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I’m kidding,” Allison said. “Although your penmanship really is atrocious. A hyperactive monkey with a fistful of broken crayons could do better.”