Chapter Seventy-Two
Lucky sat alone in his room. His knees were drawn to his chest, and he rested the undamaged right side of his face on his kneecaps. He had just finished his second physical therapy session for his left arm and hand. His arm was sore from the exercises that pulled and burned his healing tendons. Lucky had looked away the whole time the therapist instructed him through the movements.
When he was in the critcal care unit, he'd been too ill and too distracted by medical personnel and tests to think about the fact there was no cast on his arm anymore. It bothered him that he had no memory of the events that led up to his accident with the door. There were so many gaps in his memory, and he wasn't entirely sure if there were other incidents that he should be able to remember. The last thing that he recalled before waking up in the CCU was throwing his milk at the wall, and that memory sent waves of uneasiness throughout his body. He was so ashamed of having an emotional meltdown in front of all those people. He couldn't stand not being able to control himself. Spencers were always supposed to be on top of things, masters of their universe, not at the mercy of other people, circumstances or emotions.
Even though he'd cracked off the cast himself, he'd been scheduled to have it removed that week, so they didn't replaster his arm and simply left it in a splint instead. Now, his arm was bare and covered with the long sleeve of his navy blue sweatshirt. The healing skin itched sometimes, but he ignored it and chose to focus his interest elsewhere. He couldn't bear to touch or look at his wounds as if he understood that it would add more weight to his already heavy burdens.
Lucky took in a ragged breath and let it out slowly. He repeated this exercise five or six times. Kevin had instructed him to try to regulate his breathing if he felt upset or panicky. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, depending on how intense his feelings became or what he was thinking about. He felt so strange that other people like Kevin, Tony or the nurses on the ward knew things about him that he couldn't access or claim. It didn't seem real, and his existence took on a surreal aspect that frightened him. How could he know who he was or what he was capable of if he couldn't keep track of his own actions? He remembered seeing that weird Salvador Dali painting in his high school art class, the one with the warped timepieces and strange ducks combined in a murky, uncertain background. The memories of his life seemed similar, all twisted and distorted as if he were looking at it with the wrong prescription glasses.
Lucky remembered trying on other kids' glasses when he was a little kid at school. It had been a fun game at the time, looking through those lenses and seeing distorted, oversized noses, and blurry, tiny eyes looking back at him. But, he'd been able to hand back the glasses and promptly enjoy his perfect vision once again. Would life ever have such a clear focus for him as it once did? Was he destined to stumble and blindly search for meaning and purpose with desperate, groping hands? He didn't even remember that he'd been molested until Kevin had hypnotized him. Lucky envisioned himself being hypnotized for weeks on end, the true memories vomiting out of him and canceling the illusions of his so-called real life.
Lucky burned with shame, and his cheeks were on fire with the hot blood of his emotions. He remembered the day that Kevin told him about his suicide attempt. It had only been several weeks since he'd been told, fifteen days to be exact, but it seemed like years. Life on the psych ward was a never-ending, continual cycle of routine with few meaningful interruptions, either happy or sad. Time took on a new meaning in such an environment, and boredom was second only to fear in his limited life.
Lucky thought back to his time on the streets. If someone would offer him a hit of heroin right now, he'd take it without question or remorse. Anything was preferable to the pain and uncertainty that he was feeling now. So what if he died in a dirty alley somewhere in the bowels of Cortland Street, drowning in a puddle of filthy water with a syringe sticking out of his arm? Then, at least it would all be over. Lucky took in deep breaths again. Ten times he repeated the exercise. It wasn't working.
They said he was getting better, that he was stronger now and not dissociating as frequently. He was learning how to cope in more positive ways. But all he was left with was reality, not a fair exchange by any means. Lucky rocked slightly on his bed, his nerves jangling and pricking at him. He couldn't relax or get to that sweet spot anymore, the one where he felt calm and in charge, a real man, someone to be reckoned with, a success.
Lucky gave up and rolled over on his stomach, gripping his pillow tightly in his tense left hand. He let himself cry for a few minutes, hoping that it would make him feel better. They said he needed to express his emotions, not keep them all bottled up inside until he couldn't handle them anymore. That would prevent another meltdown. Kevin had asked him two days ago to look at his scars while he was in his office, but he'd refused. Kevin mentioned that he could help Lucky to deal with any feelings that he had about the suicide attempt, but Lucky said no, he wasn't ready and no one could make him look. Now, Lucky wished that he'd looked at his damaged arm then. It was like he could feel it everywhere he went, when he was eating, using the restroom, sleeping, or reading. It followed him mercilessly as he tried to pretend it didn't exist. Part of Lucky felt like if he didn't see the arm, the suicide attempt didn't really happen, so he avoided the visual reminder.
Lucky quickly rolled over on his back and pretended like he had an itch to scratch on the top of his left forearm. The sleeve of his sweatshirt raised an inch or two, and Lucky pulled on it sharply until it slid past his elbow. He absentmindedly rubbed the hair and skin of his forearm in a fluid, back and forth motion for a minute or two as his sneakered foot twitched up and down on the bed. He hummed an off-key tune under his breath as he tried to pretend that he wasn't going to do what he did next.
As Lucky's eyes directed down at his arm, he swiftly jerked it over to expose its underside. Lucky's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open in shock. He started making a sharp, high, keening sound full of despair as his eyes took in the long, thick red and white scars that crisscrossed their way long inches up his wrist and arm. When his shaking right hand touched the rough, damaged surface, he let out a tremulous "aaaahhhh" sound that traveled out into the hall and down to the nurse's station.
Barb's face tightened when she heard the cry emanating from Lucky's room. She dropped her pen and quickly emerged from behind the desk, walking rapidly in the direction of the sound. By the time she reached Lucky's room, he was sobbing and clutching his wrist as he rocked back and forth in a futile attempt to calm himself. His mouth never closed, and he kept making the same "aaaahhhh" sound. Quickly assessing the situation, Barb sat down beside Lucky and gently placed her arm around his shoulder.
"Are you okay?"
Lucky's mouth still hung open in shock, and he wordlessly shook his head "no."
Barb took Lucky's arm and easily pulled down the sweatshirt sleeve as she held it in her hand. "Are you upset about the way that your arm looks?"
Lucky started panting as he cried silently. He nodded his head "yes."
"Do you want a hug?" she asked. Lucky nodded. Barb drew him into her arms and rubbed his back for a minute, trying to help him become calm. Lucky trembled in her arms and continued to quietly sob, and then reluctantly pulled out of the hug.
"Can you tell me how you're feeling?" she probed.
"I'm scared, angry and ashamed and I want to hurt myself," he answered honestly though softly in a rapid staccato manner as he wiped his hand over his tear-stained cheeks.
"Do you need a sedative?" she asked.
Lucky replied, "Yes," in a tear-filled voice.
Barb rose from the bed and held Lucky's right arm. "Come with me to the desk," she suggested quietly. "We'll get your sedative and call Dr. Collins. Is that what you want? Do you need to talk to Dr. Collins?"
"Yes," said Lucky as he slowly followed Barb out into the hallway.
~*~*~*~
"We'll be back by 4:00 or 5:00," said Nikolas with a wide smile as his arms encircled Lulu and Lucas.
"You two have fun," Bobbie said. "Now, remember what I said. Nikolas is in charge when you're with him, so you do what he tells you.". Lucas nodded and tapped his foot on the floor impatiently while Lulu smiled and nodded.
Nikolas looked down at his sister and foster cousin. "Are we ready to go to a movie?" he asked. "Yes!" they shouted. Lucas began hopping up and down with excitement. "Let's go," he commanded as he pulled hard on Nikolas' hand. Nikolas walked with the kids to his black Mercedes. Actually, it was Stefan's Mercedes. He hadn't driven it since his uncle's death, but he decided that a Jaguar two seater wasn't appropriate for transporting two small children to the movies, whereas the Mercedes was perfect.
Lucas pulled on the doorhandle to the front seat. "No, Lucas," said Nikolas. "You two need to sit in the back seat. The front airbags aren't safe for children."
Lucas' brow creased in frustration. "I want to sit up front with you, Nikolas," he insisted.
"I'm sorry, Lucas, but no, you need to sit in the back." Another worrisome thought crossed Nikolas' mind. "Lulu, did you use the restroom before we left the house?" he asked. "I won't be able to go into the restroom with you at the movies, so you need to go now."
When Lulu raced back into the house, Lucas became impatient and began opening and closing the flap to the gas tank over and over. Nikolas rolled his eyes. Stefan would have a fit, but the kid wasn't destroying anything, so he let it pass. However, Lucas began lightly kicking at the tires in a driving rhythm that set Nikolas' teeth on edge. "Lucas, please stop, that's not necessary," he ordered. Man, I sound just like Stefan, he thought with amazement. Next, I'll be holding my arms behind my back and clicking my heels together.
"Nikolas, you always use such big words," observed Lucas. "And why doesn't your voice sound American?" he asked curiously.
Nikolas chuckled. "You're a smart kid," he replied. "I use big words because I studied hard in school. You'll use big words one day, too. And I'm not American, that's why I don't sound like one.".
"What are you?" asked Lucas with awe in his eyes.
"I was born in Greece, so that makes me a Greek citizen," explained Nikolas. "Do you know where Greece is?" he asked Lucas.
Lucas nodded. "I studied that in geography," he said proudly. "It's next to Italy."
Nikolas smiled. "That's right, Lucas. Greek and Russian are the first languages that I learned, and English is the third. That's why I talk with a slight accent. My mother is an American citizen, so that's why I learned English."
"You and Lucky have the same mother, right," stated Lucas.
"That's correct. We have the same mother but different fathers. You're related to Lucky because your mom and his dad are brother and sister."
"Yeah, I know that," stated Lucas. "Lucky is my cousin. But, what does that make you?"
"We're cousins," said Nikolas positively. "You don't have to be directly related to be a cousin. You just have to like spending time together. So that's how we're related. Lucky is your cousin, and I'm your friend who wants to be your cousin. I chose you to be my cousin. You can choose me, too if you want."
Lucas' face looked delighted. "That's cool. I like you, Nikolas," he exclaimed. "I'm ready to go," he said, climbing into the back seat and struggling with the pull down seatbelt.
~*~*~*~
"No, we can't see the Kung-Fu Fighter Warrior movie," said Nikolas and he stood at the ticket counter. Nikolas felt frustrated at the way Lucas pouted. "We agreed to see the Disney movie. The other movie is 'R' rated, you and Lulu are too young to see it."
"I like Disney," stated Lulu cheerfully as she patted Nikolas on the hand. "Will you buy me the doll for my collection?" she asked coyly.
Nikolas looked distracted. "We'll see," he said vaguely as he tried to count out the correct number of bills and handed them to the ticket vendor.
The trio entered the movie theater, and the kids immediately raced for the concessions. "I want a huge popcorn, lots of butter," yelled Lucas while Lulu matched his excitement by yelling, "Lemonade, I want lemonade!"
"Lulu, I don't know about buying you a drink," said Nikolas as he thought about the restroom situation again. "Lucas, your mom told me to buy you a small popcorn, no butter."
After Nikolas placed his order, the pimply teenager manning the food counter looked bored and said, "That'll be $19.50." Nikolas looked stunned. "What?" he asked. "All I ordered was three popcorns and one lemonade." The teenager sighed and looked annoyed. "Look at the menu - it has the prices listed," he said rudely. Nikolas colored briefly and tore off a $20 bill, flinging it onto the counter.
Lulu happily bounced along holding her large lemonade while Nikolas and Lucas carried the small, unbuttered popcorns. The kids raced for the very front of the theater while Nikolas unsuccessfully tried to talk them into sitting further back. He stationed himself between Lulu and Lucas to avoid any pushing and shoving matches. When Lucas started flinging small pieces of popcorn at an old man behind him, Nikolas reached out a hand and gently restrained the kid's arm. He gave Lucas a Stefan look with one raised eyebrow. Lucas' eyes grew big, and he settled back into his seat.
Nikolas tried his best to follow the movie about dragons, dinosaurs and lost dinosaur junior, but the closeness of the screen blurred his vision. He became extremely bored, and he lost the battle, drifting off to sleep about halfway through. He woke with a start, when Lucas poked him repeatedly in the ribs. Lucas looked Nikolas very seriously in the eyes and declared, "You're snoring!" Nikolas ran a hand over his face, laughed and pushed himself further up in his seat. He took in several deep breaths, trying to resuscitate himself.
~*~*~*~
Nikolas held onto Lulu and Lucas' hands as the three exited the movie. "I have twenty-five dolls," Lulu declared proudly. "Aunt Bobbie gave me thirty dolls that she has, and so that makes fifty-five dolls now. I'm trying to collect a hundred dolls, so will you buy me another doll, Nikky?" Lulu asked sweetly.
Nikolas laughed in spite of himself. "You sure are learning your arithmetic, little one," he teased. "Tell me, why should I buy you yet another doll?"
"Because I'm so cute," said Lulu as she smiled broadly and swung Nikolas' hand back and forth.
Nikolas shook his head. "I've been had," he said. "Do you expect a doll every time you see me?" he asked.
"Yes," said Lulu honestly.
"I get a monster truck if she gets a doll," Lucas added.
"I have to go to the bathroom!" Lulu and Lucas chimed simultaneously. Nikolas looked back and forth between the two kids, debating on how to handle the situation. When they neared the restrooms, Nikolas spotted an older, grandmotherly lady with two little girls. "Will you please look after my sister while she's in the restroom?" he asked politely. "I can take my cousin into the men's room." The old lady glanced at the impatient Lucas and agreed.
Nikolas ed Lucas to the men's room. "Hurry up," he instructed the kid as he fiddled around with the soap dispenser. "I don't want Lulu to have to wait for us too long."
Nikolas sighed with relief when he saw a grinning Lulu standing and chatting with the old lady's two granddaughters. "Thanks," he said appreciatively as he took Lulu's hand. After they settled into the car, Lucas piped up, "We're going to McDonald's aren't we? Mom gave me my insulin just in case." Lucas pulled out a syringe from his sock and waved it at Nikolas.
Nikolas sighed, rolling his eyes as he smiled and turned the car in the direction of the nearest Mickey D's.