Chapter 32: Friends In Need

September 26, 1981, McKinley, Ohio

"What?!" I gasped. "How is she?"

"I don't know, and that's the God's honest truth. Her dad called from the hospital in Rutherford and asked me to call you. All he said was that they were working on her."

"I'm leaving in about three minutes. That's what I'll need to get dressed."

"What about Becky?"

"I'll bring her, I guess. I can't imagine her parents are going to be in Rutherford."

"She's there with you?"

"Yes. Beat me up about that later! I'm on my way to Rutherford!"

I hung up the phone without waiting for a response, then scrambled back into my bedroom. I flipped on the overhead light, went to the wardrobe, and pulled out clean clothes. I quickly stripped off my pyjamas and picked up a pair of underwear.

I heard a soft giggle, "Wow. Very, very nice!"

"Becky, get up and get dressed. Jocelyn OD'd on her pain medication."

"What?" she asked, clearly not comprehending.

"My friend OD'd on her pain medication. We have to go to Rutherford RIGHT NOW. If you want to come along, get your clothes on and let's go."

I pulled on my underwear as she got out of bed, then pulled on a T-shirt. Becky moved to where her clothes were and began changing. I pulled on my jeans and then grabbed some socks and sat on the bed to put them on.

"Mike?" Becky called softly.

I looked up to see her standing stark naked.

"Please dress," I said flatly.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

I grabbed a belt and threaded it through the loops, then got my sneakers and put them on. I turned to see Becky had her underwear on and was pulling on her jeans. She put on her blouse, then socks, and her sneakers. I grabbed my keys and a baseball cap.

"Grab your purse, and let's go."

We hurried downstairs and were at my car two minutes later. We got in and I buckled in and started the engine and pulled away while Becky was still buckling in. I pointed the car towards West Monroe, though I'd go around town to get to Rutherford.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I was preoccupied."

"Did you like it?"

"I was in no state to even SEE you except to realize you weren't dressed. I'm sorry."

"I was being stupid and selfish; I'm sorry."

She was quiet for a bit, and I heard nothing but the whine of the tires on the road and the soft roar of the engine as I pushed the speed limit as far as I dared. I realized that in my concern about Jocelyn, I'd completely forgotten about Becky's problems.

"Becky, I'm sorry. I really am. I should have been more sensitive."

"It's OK, Mike. I know you're worried about your friend."

"I am. I need to worry about Jocelyn, and we need to worry about your dad."

"OK."

I had two major problems to deal with, but also one minor problem — I needed gasoline. I didn't care whose logo was on the sign, so I pulled into a Marathon station, filled the tank, then got back on US-50 heading west.

September 26, 1981, Rutherford, Ohio

About sixty-five minutes after leaving the dorm, I skidded to a stop in the parking lot of the ER at the hospital in Rutherford. Not bothering to lock the car or wait for Becky, I sprinted inside.

"Mr. Mills?" I called out when I saw him.

"Mike," he said with a grim look. "She's in really bad shape."

"What happened?"

"She took her entire bottle of Percocet. They pumped her stomach, and now they have her on a ventilator, and they're giving her some drugs via IV to counter-act the Percocet, but they don't know."

"Why did she do it?" I asked.

"We were hoping you would know."

I shook my head, "The last time I talked to her was last Saturday when she asked me not to come home every week and not to see her until Thanksgiving. I wasn't happy, but I love her enough that I agreed. I had planned to call her on Sunday before work."

"She cried quite a bit after you left, but then she had a long talk with her mom, and it seemed like she was fine. She even spoke with a counselor on Wednesday."

Mrs. Mills came through a door and walked over to where we were standing.

"Hi, Mike," she said.

"Hi, Mrs. Mills."

"Did you talk to Jocelyn at all this week?"

"No, I was just telling Mr. Mills I planned to call her Sunday after church to check on her. I wasn't sure if she would be OK with that, but I wanted to try. Maybe if I was here today, this wouldn't have happened."

"Mike, we know she told you not to come see her until Thanksgiving. She was really stressed about her injuries. You know, right?"

"Sure. The pelvic fracture was pretty severe and needed some rods and screws. They removed her spleen, and she had damage to her bladder and uterus and has an incontinence problem, which I guess is related to some combination of the accident and the surgery. And the broken arm."

"I wasn't sure she had told you the extent of the internal damage, but if she told you about the hysterectomy, then I guess you know everything."

"What?!" I gasped, staggered, as if by a body blow.

Mrs. Mills' hand flew to her mouth; she started crying and turned into her husband's arms. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed. Jocelyn HADN'T told me about that, and now I was sure I knew why she tried to kill herself.

"You didn't know, Mike?" Mr. Mills said.

I shook my head, "She told me they repaired a laceration and she'd be fine but would need to deliver by Caesarian section. Maybe you should tell me everything."

"The damage was extensive, and they tried to repair it during the emergency surgery, but by the time she had her reconstructive surgery, the bleeding hadn't stopped, and they did the hysterectomy then."

I was still reeling from the news and slowly shook my head to try to clear it.

"That's why she tried to kill herself," I sighed. "Because we wouldn't be able to have kids together. If she had just told me..."

Mr. Mills looked grim, and his wife was sobbing, and I had no idea what to do next. I went to the payphone, dropped in a dime, and called home.

"Hi, Mom," I said when she answered.

"How is she?"

"Alive, but Mr. Mills said they don't know. Mom, she had a hysterectomy and didn't tell me."

"Oh, Mike! You think ... Mike, it's not your fault."

"I failed her," I sighed. "I shouldn't have just walked away last Saturday."

"Mike, listen to me! What Jocelyn did was because of her, not you!"

I took a deep breath, "I know, but still..."

"Is Becky with you?"

I looked around and saw her sitting in a chair by the entrance.

"Yes."

"What do you plan to do?"

"I don't know. I doubt they'll let me see Jocelyn. Mr. Mills said she's on a ventilator, and they pumped her stomach and are giving her IV drugs."

"Mike, come home. You can't do anything there. Becky can sleep in Liz's room, and we'll deal with the Sheriff in the morning."

"I should stay here for Jocelyn," I protested.

"Mike, you can't see her, and you can't do anything now except pray for her and for her doctors. Please come home."

"I want to stay," I said.

"OK, Mike. Call me, please, if anything happens."

"I will. Bye, Mom."

"Bye."

I hung up and went over to Becky.

"They don't know much yet, but they're working on her. I want to stay here."

"I'll stay with you, Mike, if you let me. Please?"

"I guess that's OK for now. We'll have to figure something out later."

It dawned on me that I would either have to go back to McKinley or get someone to cover my shift at work. I really couldn't afford to miss the time, but I couldn't leave Jocelyn until I knew she was going to be OK.

"Wait here, please," I said and went back to the phones.

I dialed Nancy's number, and when her mom answered, I asked for Nancy, apologizing for the late hour. Nancy came to the phone a minute later.

"Mike? What's wrong?"

"Jocelyn tried to kill herself," I said. "I'm in Rutherford."

"What?!" Nancy gasped. "Oh my God! Do you need me? I'll come there? Just give me directions."

"Right now, I need you to let Mr. Sokolov know I'll miss my shift tomorrow. Please."

"I'll call him. We can get someone to cover, I'm sure. Paula would probably take the extra hours. How can I reach you?"

"Let me give you my parents' number for now. I'm at a payphone, but I don't see a number on it."

I gave her my home number and promised to call her if I needed anything or wanted her to come be with me. I thanked her, then went back to where the Mills were standing.

"Did they say when they might know more?" I asked.

Mr. Mills shook his head, "According to the ER doctor, the third and fourth days are the roughest. They were hopeful because they got her here less than an hour after she took the pills. Mike," he said with a sigh, "she might need a liver transplant and dialysis. They aren't sure."

"From the overdose?"

"Yes. They did some tests, but they were inconclusive. They'll do more. You should go home. We can only see her for five minutes at a time, once an hour, and she's going to be unconscious for at least the rest of the night."

"I want to stay," I said.

"I can't make you go, but you really should go home."

"I'm staying," I said firmly.

He nodded, and I went to sit with Becky. I realized that Mr. and Mrs. Mills would have no idea who she was, and I wasn't sure what they would think. I couldn't really explain, so I just plopped down in the chair next to Becky. About thirty minutes later, I saw a doctor come out to talk to the Mills, and when he left after about ten minutes, I got up and walked over to them.

"Will you tell me what he said?"

"Her pH balance is in the range where most people survive," her dad said. "Better than 95%. And that reduces the risk she'll need a liver transplant. It looks like the charcoal they used to absorb the drugs did the trick, though they may put her on dialysis anyway. They are very hopeful now, though she's not out of the woods just yet."

"Thank God," I sighed. "When can I see her?"

"Not before tomorrow. And they want a psychological consult before anyone except her mom, and I see her. Mike, please, go home. I promise you we'll call you if anything changes, and as soon as she can have visitors, we'll ask her to see you. No, we'll insist that she see you."

"I don't know."

"Mike," Mrs. Mills implored. "Go home. She's going to need you strong, even if she doesn't realize it. Please."

They, and my mom, had made reasonable points, and short of forcing my way into the treatment rooms, I wasn't going to be able to see Jocelyn before morning, and even then, I wasn't sure she'd want to see me. Going home made sense, even though I wanted to stay.

"OK," I said. "If you promise to call if anything at all changes."

"We will, Mike. She loves you. She told me that last weekend after you left. We know you love her."

"It wasn't enough, though, was it?" I asked quietly.

I turned and walked back to where Becky was and waved for her to follow me out to the car. I checked my watch, and it was after midnight, so I was reasonably sure it would be safe to walk Becky into the house.

"Any change?" Becky asked as I put the car in gear and backed out of the spot.

"It's hopeful. They said her pH is in the range where better than 95% of people survive."

"That's good, right?"

"I suppose. I have a long way to go before I know what any of that really means. I'm not even sure what pH has to do with anything."

"Like in chemistry when you test an acid and a base with litmus paper?"

"Yeah, like that. But I don't know what it means for body chemistry. I'm sure I'll learn."

"Are you doing OK?"

"Hanging in there," I said. "It's like the world is collapsing around me."

"Because of Jocelyn and Liz?"

"Mostly, yes, but now your situation, plus lab partners more interested in checking out each other's anatomy than in our biology lab work, too much homework, my job, very little free time, and on and on."

"That doesn't sound good."

"Oh, it's going to get worse, too," I sighed. "But I don't want to talk about that now."

"Sorry."

"It's not you, Becky; trust me."

"You really didn't see me back in your room?"

I shook my head, "No. I mean, I know you didn't have clothes on, but my mind was spinning. I'm sorry about that."

"You were worried about your friend, which I totally understand. But I wanted you to see."

"I know."

"I liked seeing you," she said quietly. "It's the first one I've seen. And I really liked it."

"Not now," I snapped.

"Sorry," she sniffed, trying to hold back her tears.

I took a deep breath and let it out. And another one. I knew I was under intense stress, and my emotions were just barely in check. And I'd snapped at Becky, who had come to me for help in a situation that I could barely fathom.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I think you're a very pretty girl, but I'm just so preoccupied that I'm not thinking about that. I really am sorry for snapping at you."

She reached over and squeezed my arm, then sat quietly for the rest of the ride home.

September 26, 1981, West Monroe, Ohio

I didn't see any lights on at the van Dorns', which I took as a good sign. I pulled into our driveway and right up to the garage rather than back in. That put Becky's door right next to the front walk and mostly out of view of her parents' house.

"Just get out and go right to the front door," I said. "Don't even look around."

She nodded, and we both got out. I locked the doors, then quickly walked to the front door and let us in with my key. My parents were sitting in the dimly lit living room.

"Mike? How is she?" my mom asked.

"Mr. Mills said that the tests gave her better than a 95% chance of surviving, and the risk of needing a liver transplant is low. I guess the next couple of days will tell the story. Both her parents insisted I come home, and you had as well."

"Becky, we'll put you in Liz's room tonight, OK? Mike will be right across the hall."

"OK."

"Let me show you where it is and see if I can find you a sleep shirt or nightgown to wear. I have a spare toothbrush we can open for you. Mike, I want to talk with you, so stay here with your dad, please."

"Sure."

I sat down on the couch close to where my dad was in his easy chair.

"Want a drink?" he asked.

I shook my head, "No. Alcohol is the last thing I need right now. I'm actually considering complete abstinence from alcohol after talking to Doctor Hart."

"Why?"

"Well, for starters, once I start clinical training, I can't drink before a shift, and if I'm on call, I can't drink, period. I'll pretty much be inside the twelve-hour window they recommend for my entire Internship and first year of Residency. Add in the risks of alcoholism for doctors, and it just makes sense to stay away from it the same way I do tobacco and drugs."

"May I suggest a slight modification?"

"Sure."

"Allow yourself an occasional glass of wine or champagne on very special occasions. You know, at your wedding, or an anniversary, or occasional things like that."

"I suppose I could see that. But at least for now, I'm under 21, so other than 3.2 beer, I really don't have access to it."

"True. How is Becky?"

"I'd say she's in serious need of mental health counseling. Did you speak to the Sheriff?"

"Yes. Deputies Kessel and Sanderson will be here at 7:00am."

"Are the van Dorns home?"

"As far as I know. Why?"

"I didn't see any lights, but I have no idea what they do at night. Even their porch light was out."

"They're from a big city, so maybe they're used to having streetlights and don't turn on the porch light at night by default like most people do around here. Your mom said today is Becky's eighteenth birthday?"

"Yes, well, it's after midnight, so yesterday. She's a real wreck, Dad."

"I have no doubt. How did she get to McKinley?"

"By bus. I didn't know she was coming. She just showed up, unannounced, at the dorm."

"Running away seems like a reasonable thing to do under the circumstances," my mom said, coming to sit next to me. "She's very much out of sorts."

"Dad told me about the Deputies coming in the morning. I called and got someone to cover for me at work. I'll have to go back for my 8:00am class on Monday, no matter what. Hopefully, I can see Jocelyn tomorrow. If she'll see me."

"What did her parents say about that?"

"That they'll insist, but she's pretty stubborn."

"How are you doing?"

"I feel like everything is crumbling around me, and the stress is really starting to pile on."

"That's why I wanted to talk to you. You need to find a way to reduce your stress."

"Well, good luck to me," I sighed. "I have to work. School is school, and nobody is going to reduce my course load. I'm already going to church only once a week. Honestly, the stress is from people, not that stuff. And I don't know how I could have avoided the situations with Liz, Jocelyn, or even Becky once I started hanging out with her, which seemed like a nice way to relax and make a friend. It just feels like all of my relationships are filled with time bombs or landmines. I keep missing them, but everyone else steps on them, and the shrapnel flies."

"You should probably talk to your counselor about stress-reduction techniques."

"Karate was good for that, actually, but I simply don't have the time. Not to mention, it might be stressful if I don't meet the standards of the new instructor. Why can't everything just be simple?"