I woke around 8:00 am the following morning, feeling disoriented. My eyelids were still heavy with sleep. It was the first night in a long time I hadn't been plagued by nightmares, let alone got any decent sleep. I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and stretching hard. I took the opportunity to flex every muscle in my body before standing. This morning, I wasn't surrounded by worried faces like when I first woke up in this room. Instead I had been granted a few waking moments of solitude and didn't think it wise to risk being found in the floor when someone did come around to check in on me.
My muscles still ached, though no where near the extent they had the night prior. I flexed my fingers and toes in an attempt to relieve the heaviness that still weighed down my arms and legs. All in all though, I felt better then I had in month. Sure, I could still go for another twelve to fifteen hours of sleep, but already I felt more myself; more aware. To me, this only further supported Dr. Goodwin hypothesis that my problems had all stemmed from lack of sleep. In my solitude, I couldn't help but to laugh at myself for being so silly. I had allowed myself to be so consumed by my dreams, that I made myself worse. How ridiculous of me.
I knew someone would be around to check in me before long, so I decided to flip on the small flat screen television that hung in the corner of the room to pass the time. Flipping through the channel, I eventually settled on watching re-runs of an older sitcom.
My mother arrived within the hour, carrying a black duffel bag with a fresh change of clothes inside. Not long after, Dr. Goodwin stopped in to inform me that nothing appeared out of the ordinary overnight and that I would be free to leave as soon as my mother had completed my exit forms. There wasn't a shower in my small hospital room, so I settled for rinsing what dried blood I could out of the ends of my now crusty hair, before tossing it up into a messy bun on top of my head and changed into the leggings and oversized sweater my mother had packed for me. A few auburn curls hung loosely in my face.
I took a quick glance at myself in the mirror that hung in the small bathroom of my hospital room. My face was still sallow, my under eyes still bruised by the evidence of my lack of sleep the last several months. But my eyes had returned to the honey colored pools that I was so used to staring back at me in my reflection, and some color had returned to my cheeks. Frankly, I looked healthier then I had in a long time.
By 9:30AM, we had left the hospital to return home. My mother and I remained quiet for the entirety of the drive, choosing to let the radio fill the silence. As I sat in the passenger seat I thought back to the conversation we had had in the hospital the night before, a wave of guilt washed over me for the things I had said to her. I mean, she hadn't been wrong. I could disapprove all I liked of how she was dealing with Dad's death, but the truth was I wasn't dealing with it either. I still didn't want to go back to therapy, but maybe facing the issue head on would help me accept it. Maybe the first step to doing that, was to quit running away every time I felt like it was 'too much'. How could I judge her for how she grieved the loss of my sister and later my father when I hadn't exactly done a bang up job in that department myself.
After about 20 minutes, we pulled to a stop in the driveway of the house we now lived in. I couldn't help but miss our old house as I looked at this place that I still couldn't bring myself to call home. It was nice, but shabby in comparison to the home I had spent 17 years of my life in. This house didn't hold the warm memories the other had, but I suppose, atleast for my mother, they didn't hold all the dark ones either. And for her I think that was enough.
My mother put the car in park and let out a heavy sigh. I cast a glance her way, only to find her staring at me with a mix of sadness and affection.
"What?" I pressed after she said nothing.
It took her a minute to reply, "I'm just relieved that you are okay." Without warning, she leaned across the middle console and wrapped her arms around me in an iron grip, holding me there for a long time. When she finally released me, she cleared her throat and began again.
"Look," she said, "I know that we don't always see eye to eye. And I know that you think I am this terrible person that doesn't understand you, but I know you so much better then you think I do." She paused, thinking hard for a moment before continuing. "Maybe even better then you know yourself sometimes. I used to be just like you. Stubborn, sharp tongued, I often acted without thinking of the consequences. I see a lot of myself in you Ainsley, and that's why I worry so much."
"But," she looked as if she had foul taste in her mouth, "you are right about...some things. Perhaps I am a little too overbearing at times. But you need to understand Ainsley, as your mother, everything I do is to protect you. You are all I have left, and I am terrified that something is going to take you away from me. And yesterday...well yesterday it seemed like something just might."
"I already know that, mom." I said it so softly, it almost sounded as if I had whispered it. "But I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere, I just need a little room to breathe. I can't have you breathing down my neck over every little thing."
"I wouldn't have to breathe down your neck if you did what you were supposed to!" Her voice rose in defense of her action. She breathed deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose as she so often did when she was trying to calm her nerves.
"But," she smiled, "I will make you a deal. We need to reach some sort of resolution because neither of us can continue living like this, especially not in your current state. I promise to lay off a bit if, and ONLY if you agree to-"
"I'm not going back to therapy," I interrupted.
"I know," she rolled her eyes, " you have made that abundantly clear. And I know perfectly well you wouldn't show up to the appointments even if I scheduled them. But that wasn't what I was going to say, Ainsley."
I eyed her suspiciously, looking her up and down for a moment. Who was this woman? Certainly it couldn't be my mother. I had never known her to be willing to compromise in my life, even before the tragedies we'd suffered. Her will was as strong, if not stronger then my own. I crossed my arms over my chest skeptically, "State your terms..."
She seemed pleased by my willingness to hear her out. "I will agree to step back a little if you agree to start doing as expected. That means no more showing up late to school, no more skipping class or leaving early. No more lying...no more secrets." She said firmly. "You cannot expect me to trust you if you can't be worthy of my trust. So show me you are...and in exchange I will do my best to be less 'helicopter' and more 'mom'. I also want to u to start taking care of yourself." She had a look in her eyes that told me she knew more then she let on at the hospital. "I was pretty anxious after I left you at the hospital last night and couldn't sleep, so I cleaned house. I found a few empty wrappers for something called NRGXtreme in your room. I put two and two together after the way you lied at the hospital last night about how you were sleeping." Her eyebrows stitched together disapprovingly. "I'm not stupid, I know you hadn't slept for days before all this happened. You cant do that anymore, Ainsley. You understand how bad it is for you right?"
"I do" was all I could manage.
"Good." She place a hand to her face, tapping her index finger absent minded lay against her chin for a moment. "Maybe we can start a nightly regimen to help you sleep. You know, I really enjoy my herbal tea before bed. It is so relaxing . Maybe that can help you too!" She sounded almost excited by her revelation.
"Who knows?" I shrugged. I didn't really see how a little tea would help, but I knew I needed to make an effort here. "I guess I'm will to try it if it could help."
"Alright then," mom turn off the engine "so you agree? You do what I need, and I'll try to give you more space?"
"Yeah, I think I can do that."
With that, we headed inside and spent the rest of the day in our living room. It was the first time in a long time that mom and I had connected on any level. I felt...lighter. Maybe, just maybe...this was the beginning of something better. Not just for me...but for both of us.