Taken by Storm (15 page)
Authors: Angela Morrison
Tags: #Social Issues, #Dating & Sex, #Christian, #Friendship, #Juvenile Fiction, #Sports & Recreation, #General, #Religious, #Water Sports, #Death & Dying
chapter 20
ADDICTION
LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/27 10:15 P.M.
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #32, AN ADDICT’S CONFESSION
gray eyes silver steam
sunday afternoon dream black lashes
crowding me, crowding me off the page.
my page-plotted perfect possibility before
gray eyes silver steam my nights
into jimble, jangle, jazzed desire
descending, bending, sending me
scattered, shattered, smattered,
flattened, rolled, bent,
sent, spent, meant,
mean to, seem to,
dream to,
scream.
sunday afternoon dream black lashes
crowding me, crowding me off the page.
my page-plotted perfect possibility before
gray eyes silver steam my nights
into jimble, jangle, jazzed desire
descending, bending, sending me
scattered, shattered, smattered,
flattened, rolled, bent,
sent, spent, meant,
mean to, seem to,
dream to,
scream.
chapter 21
NEW PRESCRIPTION
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #8
The nurse calls, “Michael Walden?”
Leesie squeezes my hand. i leave her to the dingy green waiting room sitting on an orange vinyl couch with a duct-taped slit that stretches clear across the back cushion. This guy is the only doctor for about six tiny towns. He’s only in on Wednesdays.
The nurse gives me a gown. “You can leave your underwear on.”
Nice. “i’m just here for a prescription refill.”
She glances at her clipboard. “You’re down for a physical.” She takes my blood pressure and temperature and leaves me to undress. i don’t bother with the gown.
The doctor comes in. He’s tall and has a greasy comb-over. He listens to my heart and lungs, pokes and prods, and makes me cough.
Thanks, Gram. i really needed this.
The guy examines my foot. “This has healed nicely. Any tenderness?” He presses on the raw red scar.
“No.”
“Good.”
The nurse steps back in with a clear plastic bottle in her hand. “We’ll need a urine sample.” She writes my name on the bottle and leaves.
Dr. Drab sits on a low rolling stool and leans back with his hands locked behind his head. “You seem healthy enough. You want medication?”
“The doctor who treated me in Belize gave me these.” i hand him my empty prescription bottle. “i’ve got symptoms. Sleeplessness, nightmares, and i’ve started having flashbacks.”
“If you’re sleepless, how can you have nightmares? Get your story straight, kid.”
My fists ball up. “i’m not making this up. i really wish i was.”
“I don’t believe in over-medicating young people.” He leans forward and pats my knee. “You’re a strong boy. Get through this on your own steam. I prescribe time, a dose of fresh air, and regular exercise. You look a little pale.”
“i dive. Scuba. Free diving.” Sun, water, sea breeze. Just what he says i need.
Dr. Drab frowns. “Most kids around here play basketball. I’m sure Coach could use your height.”
i shake my head. “i dive.”
“No diving.” He scribbles away on my chart.
“What?” i couldn’t have heard him right.
He shakes his pen to get it to write. “After consulting with your grandmother”—he rolls his stool over to a small desk and searches in the drawer—“I’ve decided you should not dive until you’re more stable.”
“Stable? i’m perfectly stable.”
He whips around with a fresh pen in his hand. “You just admitted to nightmares and flashbacks.”
“This is just wrong.”
“Your grandmother has had reports of dangerous, erratic behavior.”
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