Chances Are - Part 16

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Chances Are...
Stories of Hope

Lauren's Chance
by Andrea Lena DiMaggio
 

Oh write me a beacon so I know the way
Guide my love through night and through day




Stories of hope in lives healed by second chances



In the ambulance on the way to Our Lady of Lourdes Medical Center...

"She's back," Cassie said with a very heavy but relieved sigh. The girl lay on the gurney, almost motionless but her eye lids fluttered and her vitals were okay.

"Thank God for another miracle," her partner said as he wiped his forehead just before hitting it against a bulkhead as the ambulance swerved to avoid a dog that had strayed into the street. A moment later the girl moved her hand in a weak wave as Cassie leaned over her.

"It's okay, darlin'; we got you....you're gonna be just fine!" The girl motioned for Cassie to come closer. As she tried to speak, Cassie put her ear next to the facemask. The words were nearly garbled, but she made out a few of them....

* * * * *

Many months before.....

Crow fly be my alibi
And return this fable to your wing
Take it far away to where gypsies play
Beneath metal stars by the bridge

Jason sat on edge of the steel guard rail of the bridge; the fall was enough to ensure that he wouldn’t survive, and he was convinced once again that it was the thing to do. Life wasn’t about living; it never had seemed to be to begin with, and nothing was further from real living than his own.

He had sat there times before, and this time was no different than any other. He looked down at the rocks below, barely covered by the nearly dried up stream. Easy enough to jump, but moving off the safety of the railing was the hard part; stuck every time feeling more cowardly and condemned at the same time each time he faced the decision. He hit his head in frustration as he climbed down off the railing and started walking back to his house, the words from his own heart condemning him.

“You’re a coward!” Almost ringing in his ears though soundless, they intensified as he approached the front porch

“Fucking coward. You’re useless!” The inner shouting drowned out all of the good things his mother had told him.

“You’re my precious gift, Jay….never forget that!” The last words his mother shared with him before she passed. Gems buried beneath refuse so putrid and disgusting that he couldn’t overcome the overwhelming stench of accusations and insults his own heart heaped upon him.

“Fucking faggot….” Something his Uncle said even as he raped the child; as if somehow he was exempt from all the hatred the boy would inevitably endure, but that’s denial for you. And Jason’s heart was so hurt and betrayed and bent inward that he actually cried over the loss of his favorite ‘uncle’ when the man finally did everyone a favor and died.

“You’re sick, Jay. We just need to find the right doctor for you,” his father had said. No harsh words or beatings; no condemnation, just a benign combination of ignorance and neglect. No attempt to understand, but a whirlwind of caring driven by misconceptions as his father dragged him from doctor to doctor to doctor, looking for a cure for his son’s ‘ailment.’

“Sir, you don’t seem to grasp what I’ve said. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with your son. He has a condition he was born with that we can help with….there are specialists and counselors and support groups to see that he can be….”

“Don’t tell me that. I have a son. I don’t have a daughter….” Again the beneficence overcoming reality as the man refused to hear the truth.

“You’re worthless….he’ll never love you.” Words his heart reverberated daily as the truth seemed to be buried under that refuse….he could hardly even remember what his mother had told him. The child was tired; too many false hopes built upon a shaky foundation. His father cared, but too much and in the wrong way, even though he meant well. When his father displayed love, it was mostly unconditional, but he still demanded that his son be healthy, and to him, healthy meant putting away the only part of him that truly mattered.

“I don’t care what your friends say, Dr. Sullivan says you just need some help to focus and get back to where you’re supposed to be.” His father smiled but shook his head the only time he was brave enough to bring his best friend to visit. Lauren.

“Your name is Jason, son. Please stop this nonsense. Just take your meds, please?” Jason remembered how much his father’s words had hurt Lauren. Between being unable to end the pain and being forced to endure Lauren’s exile, the boy finally just couldn’t take it any longer. By the time they reached Philadelphia, Jason basically had retreated into whatever solace and solitude he could manage, and Lauren took over…


Our Lady Of Lourdes Medical Center Critical Care Unit, Camden, New Jersey....the present...

“You’re okay now, honey,” the nurse said with a very thick Nigerian accent.

“It was touch and go, like they say until yesterday morning. But you’ll be okay. And someone is here to see you, okay?” She smiled and stepped out a moment later two police officers entered.

“What…what the fuck do you want,” the girl said with a tone mixed equally with defiance and fear.

“Easy, honey! We just wanted to see how you’re doing. You gave us a really big scare,” Jimmy said as he took off his hat and laid it on the chair off to the side. Brooksie’s been up all night praying.” He pointed to Melanie, who shrugged her shoulders, as if it was nothing.

“I’m not going back!” The girl shook her head and turned away from them. Melanie walked around to the other side of the bed.

“No one said anything about going anywhere, kid. We’re just glad you’re alive.” She smiled but girl’s eyes filled with tears.

“Well, I’m not. You should have just left me there. I don’t deserve to live.” She stammered and began coughing. Her monitor started beeping and the nurse came in a moment later.

“What’s going on here?” She said it to no one, but quickly examined the girl.

“Looks like your IV just popped out. One moment, baby.” She turned to Jimmy and Melanie.

“I think she’s still a bit disoriented, and maybe needs a bit more time. Why don’t you try tomorrow?

Melanie nodded and they left.

“She still getting to you?” Jimmy said as they pulled out of the parking lot. Melanie put her head up against the side window but turned back and nodded.

“She’s just like Chelsea…..exactly like her….right down to the pout.” Melanie imitated the expression and sighed.

“Oh, shit, Mel….don’t go there. You can’t….” Jimmy turned his attention back to the road.

“I fucking swear to god I will not let this kid down.” Her body shook a bit and she bit her tongue.

“My God, Mel….you didn’t let her down….you did everything you could….she just didn’t want to live. There was nothing you could have done.”

“If you want to help her, fine, but you can’t control her. You have to let her go. And you have to let Chelsea go….it’s been time already for too long, hon.” Melanie shook her head.

“Last time I looked, you were flesh and blood, just the same as me!” He meant it as a joke, but she didn’t laugh.

“You don’t understand, Jimmy….you can’t understand. I held her….in my arms…her last breath against my ear as she tried to speak. You can’t know.”

“Listen….just because I can’t know doesn’t mean I don’t want to or that I don’t care.” He snapped at her, more out of frustration than anger, but she heard him, surprisingly, and put her head down.

“I know. She meant a lot to you….I’m sorry. I’m just so scared, Jim….like it’ll happen all over again.”

“Not if WE can help it, okay?”


The next day…

“Hey, sis,” Melanie said as they walked into the Critical Care Unit. Cassie Brooks stood at the nurse's station. She smiled and walked up and hugged Melanie.

“She’s doing much better physically but the newbie social worker got her a bit worked up when she asked about the girl’s parents.

“A runaway isn’t gonna volunteer anything, and if she’s not on some registry, they may end up putting her in foster care, which would really suck. I can’t see her staying put, especially if the foster family won’t help her stay in girl mode. Shit!”

“What the fuck do you want?” The girl snapped at them as they entered the room.

“Okay, sweetheart, listen and listen good. I’m not going to spend a whole lot of time holding your hand and nursing you through this while you're swearing at me. I can get you back just as good, but that would waste both our times. My partner and I want to see you do okay, and we’re going to push back just as hard as you do until you realize just how much we care. You hang in here and I’ll see what I can do, okay?” The girl pouted angrily and began to say something until Jimmy said calmly,

“What’s your name?” Not like an interrogation, but an honest-to-god-I care question that caught the girl unprepared. She stammered, “Lauren,” before putting her head down.

“Well, Lauren? We’re here because we care, and also because I think we can do something for you if you’ll promise to do something for us, okay.” The girl was fighting back tears as her bravado had completely disappeared.

“Wh…wha?” She sniffled. Jimmy grabbed the tissue off the table and handed her the packet. She blew her nose and shrugged, her head displaying a tremor.

“I think I’ve got a family that works with Protective Services that might have room in their home for you, but I need you to promise me you won’t try to hurt yourself. “ The girl almost began to argue, but the short sleeves on the hospital gown exposed old thick scars across her left wrist and long thin new scars that ran along the length of her forearm. She gazed at her arm before looking up to see Jimmy’s welcoming face.

“I know about cutting, honey,” he said softly. “We’re talking about the scar across your wrist. None of that…you’re much too important. “ She shook her head in disagreement before Melanie grabbed her hand and patted it.

“Trust me on this, kid. Jimmy Muldoon doesn’t care about anything more than the Eagles and one other thing, and that’s kids. You listen to him, okay. We care about you, and we’re gonna see this through with you. When I was your age, I had someone just as special as Jimmy say the same thing, and I’m here today because of her. Listen to us….okay?”

Thankfully, for once in the girl’s brief life, being exhausted and stretched beyond her means was actually a good thing, and she relented, pulling Melanie close as she laid her head on Melanie’s arm and wept

“It’s okay, kid…we got your back. Go ahead and let it out,” Jimmy said almost unnecessarily as the girl sobbed.

“You know, I’m glad we can help. This is sort of a second chance for me,” Melanie began to say, but she looked over at Jimmy, who was kind enough not to chide her. She continued,

“This a second chance for Jimmy and me in a way, and I hope it is a second chance for you, okay?”

“I can’t think of anyone who could take better care of you than the family you’ll be living with. The oldest sister is getting married in two weeks and is moving out tomorrow. You get to share a bedroom with her sister, okay?” Melanie smiled and the girl pouted, but out of worry instead of anger.

“But what about….me….what if they find out about me?” The girl looked down at her body.

“They know all about you, kid.” Jimmy smiled as if he was keeping a big secret about a surprise party or a fancy gift. Melanie stepped closer to the girl and smiled with a broad grin.

“The mother has experience taking care of foster kids; maybe the best rep in the whole system. She’s got two daughters, like I said. A son who is serving in the Coast Guard, and a foster son who graduated college last spring and now is going to Villanova for his masters. They all are aware of your circumstance, and know why you need special understanding. But see…that’s the thing….to them, it isn’t special.”

“Yeah, kid….to them it comes natural, you know?” Lauren’s eyes widened in surprise as Melanie patted her chest.”

“I don’t share this often; most people who ask don’t deserve an answer and those that don’t ask don’t need one. My name is Melanie Elaine Brookes. My sister Cassie you’ve met, right? My brother Dave is a helicopter pilot for the Coast Guard out of Cape Cod and my brother is a first year intern at UMDNJ in Newark.” The girl tilted her head a bit and half-grinned.

“I’m coming to live with you? But…”

“It’s okay, Lauren My mom knows you’re trans….nobody cares….it’s okay.” The girl started to smile and then got a puzzled look on her face once more.

“But you said if people don’t know your name, they don’t deserve an answer? I don’t understand!”

“If they don’t know the name she used to go by,” Jimmy said quietly. Lauren looked at him and back at Melanie once again.

“My name was Peter Joseph Brookes. Before I transitioned.” She said it as if she were describing the color of their kitchen or what car her mother drove. Lauren shook her head, wanting so hard not to fall for a false hope once again.

“Now…when you’re ready, and only if and when you’re ready, my Mom would like to know your old name….and where you came from.” The girl started to shake her head.

“Shhh..shhh.” Jimmy put his hand on her arm softly.

“Cassie told me that when they brought you back after you coded in the ambulance, you kept calling for your mom and your dad.” Even as Melanie spoke, the girl’s eyes filled with tears and she began to tremble, ever so slightly.

“My….Mom died three years ago…Dad….Dad? I was calling for my Dad?” Jimmy nodded.

“You’ve probably got some unfinished business with him, and by the look on your face, I don’t think all of it is bad, do you?” She was unable to speak, and just nodded.

“Okay, like I said, when you’re ready,” Melanie intentionally left off ‘if’ and continued, Mom…everyone who knows her calls her Mom….and you can get in touch with your Dad….maybe invite him here for visit, but you don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to, okay?”

“Oh….oh…” She bit her lip and Melanie stepped closer, pulling her into a long embrace. She put her head on Melanie’s shoulders and wept as the woman stroked her hair.

“I know, honey. It’s okay….I know.” She looked over at Jimmy who smiled and mouthed without sound,

“That’s for Chelsea! And you!”

“And you,” Melanie said aloud.

“Okay, kid, let’s get you packed.



The Brookes home a few years later...

“You look just great, honey. I am so proud of you!” Alice Brookes stood back and raised her camera; the whole family was home for the graduation party. After the group shot, the young lady took off her cap and gown, revealing a nice mint green sleeveless shift with a white jacket. The tall man to her left was wearing a blue uniform; Camden City Police, as was the woman to the right of the girl.

“Thanks, Mom.” She turned to the left and right, quickly kissing Jimmy and Melanie.

“Now, let’s see that beautiful smile we love so much,” Alice said, and Lauren Margaret Pavlachek beamed from ear to ear, as did Jimmy and Melanie….Muldoon.

Only the sunset knows my blind desire for the fleeting
Only the moon understands the beauty of love
When held by a hand like the aura of nostalgia

Next: Marta's Tale



Nostalgia

words and music by
Martin Phipps and
Vince Pope
adapted and performed by
Emily Barker and Red Clay Halo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w098rz-rdiQ

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Comments

Thank you 'Drea,

ALISON

'for a sweet story with a happy ending.

ALISON

Somedays

littlerocksilver's picture

... your stories give my day a nice start, and somedays they help bring them to a nice close. I know quite a bit went on between the hospital and the graduation; however, it was her realizing that she had a chance to to make her life right that was the important thing.

Girl.jpg
Portia

Portia

fighting for her life

For her to have a second chance, all it took was someone to fight for her life. Great story, thank you.

Dorothycolleen

DogSig.png

chances are 16

drea or is it andrea, i dont know where this wonderful stories come from but i certainly hope they dont dry up any dry any time soon. keep up the good work.
robert

001.JPG

the way this started...

... I couldn't read the rest. I was right to fear for the way it was to go. But I did come back and look for the hapier ending. Very disturbing. x

PS - I do love the graphics for this series... where did you find them?; they're so so right.

I knew you could do it!

Ole Ulfson's picture

And with aplomb. It's why I read your stories. Very nicely and skillfully done.

Thank you,

Ole

We are each exactly as God made us. God does not make mistakes!

Gender rights are the new civil rights!