I wake up to find Mom, Dad and Kristina standing over me. On my lap is a tray of some weird looking mystery meat, peas and a carton of milk.
I try to hold back tears but it is impossible.
“There, there now, don’t you worry,” Mom sits on my bed, and strokes away my tears. This makes me cry harder.
“I shouldn’t have done what I did,” I strangle my words. The tears make it hard to speak without feeling some kind of deep uncomfortable emotional pain.
“We know,” Dad says.
“I brought you a present,” Kristina, my younger sister, presents me with an old childhood friend, Mr. Giraffe. He was the guiding star in my survival through elementary school, when the other kids bullied me for being a prodigy.
“Ohhhhhh,” I mused. “Thank you, Kris.” I let her give me a hug.
“Natalie,” Mom and Dad both take deep sighs. “We heard that you got alcohol poisoning. Sharon and Damien told us.”
Oh fuck, I groan inside. Why did those two have to do that? Why couldn’t they have just let me die?
I cannot say anything. I just give her a blank stare, the tears continuing to stream down my face. I peer to the side at the IV in my left arm. I thought last night was just a casual time to have drinks and bond with friends, and I ended up in the hospital for it.
“Thus, we have decided it would be best for you to take some time off from school.”
I look at them aghast. How would I finish my degree? I only have a year and a half left to graduate. The last thing I want to do is waste that full-ride scholarship on days spent watching old SpongeBob SquarePants reruns and eating boxed cereal.
“What? I can’t do that, I haven’t even graduated! Derek, Sharon, America and I are supposed to collaborate on a string quartet for the annual Beauford Competition! If I miss this because of some lousy medical leave reason, I’m screwed!”
“Kiddo, there is no reason you should put your mental health in jeopardy anymore,” Mom says, arms crossed. “Now you are going to go on medical leave, and that is final.”
I feel like an entitled teenager doing this, but I sit back sullen and pouty-lipped. Gosh, 2016 was bad but the newfound reality that I couldn’t even go to school anymore because of some dumb mistake I made was even worse. I was going to ring in 2017 with AA meetings and therapy.
The Arts Are Life 