Saturday Story 

Thank you for joining me for part 16 of my first Saturday Story: Rags to Riches. Please check back next Saturday for part 17.

Give your life the green light. It’s A Go!

Amber Green

**Note from the author: Please note that this part of Rags to Riches touches on the topic of suicide. Rags to Riches is intended for an audience of adults/people in their late teens, but please be forewarned, just in case you don’t feel like reading about a dark, difficult subject in the perspective of my (fictional) characters. Thanks.**

***The below was revised on Saturday, July 28th, 2018 to reflect a more realistic timeline to treat alcohol poisoning (according to a trusted medical professional, a person suffering with alcohol poisoning would never be discharged from hospital the same day they were admitted).***

Rags to Riches

Part 16:

To Riches:

Money can’t buy you happiness. We all know this phrase.

Having lived with and without extraordinary wealth, I must say that I tend to agree with this statement. In and of itself, money and things won’t make you happy in the long run, but in my opinion, excess money allows you to pay the bills without worry, and provides you with the security to live life the way you choose to live.

If you choose to be happy, wealth, and even financial security may make it a little easier to relax and find joy. If “being happy” isn’t on your ‘to-do’ list however, you’re doomed to live in gloom and misery, no matter the expense of your designer clothes and square footage of your home.

When I think about the hard times I experienced in life prior to having money, I don’t think wealth would have changed them too much. The other day, I was reflecting on that time that my brother, Chris, was admitted to the hospital with alcohol poisoning. It was years ago, but I don’t think I would have handled the situation differently, reacted differently or felt differently had we had money at that time. I wonder if Chris would agree with me? I thought to myself.

……

From Rags:

I hope that Chris is going to be fine. Please let my brother be okay, I thought for the millionth time, as my sister, Priscilla and I sat in the waiting room of the hospital.

Dave, Chris’s boyfriend, found Chris suffering from alcohol poisoning and called us from the hospital. He sat with us as we waited for news on Chris’s condition, and for our mom to arrive.

“I don’t understand how this happened,” Priscilla said. “Who drinks that much alone?”

I gaped at her, as I allowed myself to consider what my sister was asking for the first time since receiving Dave’s phone call. “What are you talking about? Do you think he did this on purpose?” I asked her, bewildered.

“Well, I don’t know,” Priscilla said, backtracking. “It’s just- it’s not like he was at a frat party, and got caught up in the moment. He was drinking at home alone.”

I turned to Dave, “Did he take anything else? Were there pill bottles around when you found him?”

Dave adopted my look of bewilderment as his own. “No, no,” he shook his head quickly without a shadow of hesitation. “God, no. Your brother has been down lately- because he misses your dad- but no, there has been no sign that he’s suicidal.”

“I hate to say it, but I think that’s what most loved ones of people who die by suicide think,” Priscilla said, surprisingly obtuse. Dave blushed, worry darkened his features; he looked like he might cry.

“I’m sure that you’re right, Dave,” I said, trying to comfort him. Then, I looked at my sister, “Jesus, Priscilla,” I snarled at her quietly. “Please, PLEASE don’t talk like that when Mom gets here,” I said.

“Of course not,” Priscilla said testily, clearly insulted that I would remind her of something so basic.

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, listening to the beeping of the life-saving machines, watching doctors, nurses and other medical professionals go about their day, as their patients and patients’ loved ones were just trying to make it through their own terrible time. I could never do this work, I thought to myself. Thank goodness there are people who want to work in the ER.

I stood as I saw my mom entering the waiting room. Priscilla and Dave followed suit.

“How is he? What have you heard?” my mom said as she hugged all of us, her eyes alight with fear and unshed tears.

“We’re waiting to hear, Mom,” Priscilla said, gently, just as a doctor walked up to us.

Before the doctor could speak, our mom turned to him and said, “I’m Chris Bruno’s mother. How is he?”

“Mrs. Bruno, I’m Dr. Hall. Chris was admitted to the ER, as he was suffering from alcohol poisoning; fortunately, he has regained consciousness.” All of us sighed in relief. I relaxed a little for the first time since answering Dave’s call.

“Thank goodness,” my mother said. “When can I see him? When can he go home?”

“We have to run a few tests as alcohol poisoning is very serious- especially when the patient loses consciousness- but he should be fine to go home in a few days. We’ll let you know soon,” Dr. Hall explained.

“Okay. I’ll be here as soon as you can tell me anything. Thank you,” our mom said.

“Thank you,” we echoed, as Dr. Hall walked away.

I exhaled another sigh of relief, as we sat down.

“Thank you for getting Chris to the hospital, Dave,” my mom said, earnestly.

“No problem, Mrs. Bruno,” Dave said.

“I guess Dad is not outside parking the car?” Priscilla asked, with an edge of both sarcasm and frustration.

“No,” our mom replied, stoic in her tone. “But I should call him to let him know that Chris is okay,” she said, standing with her purse in hand.

“Why? He didn’t come. Let him wait,” Priscilla argued, her voice rising in volume, as she raged. Seeing our mother’s embarrassed expression she continued, “What, mom? Chris could have died, and Dad’s not here. What the hell is wrong with him?”

“Priscilla,” our mom said, in warning. “Lower your voice, please,” she said icily, briefly looking around at a few people that surrounded us.

Priscilla looked at our mom defiantly for a moment, but dropped the argument as she reached inside her bag for her phone. “I have to call Luke,” she said, and then stalked off.

“I’ll be right back,” my mom said to Dave and me, and walked away.

“Sorry about that,” I said to Dave.

“That’s okay. I understand,” Dave said.

“Well, I’m glad you do, because Priscilla and I don’t,” I said, referring to our father’s issues with his son’s homosexuality. Dave gave a small shrug and sad smile in response. I was beginning to really like Dave. He seemed like a solid guy, and certainly responded well in a crisis (which, apparently, my family and I were prone to experiencing rather frequently).

Priscilla appeared a few minutes before our mother came back. “I spoke to Luke; he and I think that Chris should stay with us for a few days after he is discharged,” she said.

“I don’t mind helping Chris out, if he needs,” Dave offered.

Oh my gosh, both of my siblings hit the jackpot in terms of spouses, I thought.

Priscilla smiled, “Thanks, Dave, but I’m already going to have to fight with my mom to let me take him. She’ll want Chris to stay with her, but given the tension between our father and Chris, I think it’s best that he stay with me,” my sister explained.

“Okay,” Dave agreed. “I’ll be right back,” Dave said, and walked towards the men’s washroom.

“Okay,” I responded. Then said to Priscilla, “Oh my gosh, he’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, I like him,” Priscilla agreed. “Hey, do you want to stay over for the first night, too? If Chris is feeling up to it, I think we have to figure out where his head is with all of this,” she reasoned.

“Yeah, sure. I’m sure the doctors’ will be wondering that, too,” I wondered aloud, as we contemplated Chris’s drinking habits and mental state. “It’s been a long day. Do you think I could stay at your house tonight? We could get a game plan together about what we’re going to say to Chris. Besides, I don’t really feel like rehashing everything with Anna,” I said.

“You two have been roommates forever! Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. We’re not as close as we used to be. I don’t know if it’s her, or me, or… nothing.”

“You can stay with us. Do you want to go get your stuff now?”

“Yeah, okay. Text me if you get any updates,” I said.

“Okay,” Priscilla agreed.

……

 It was nice to have a few minutes to myself as I drove home to gather my things. I knew that I would feel better once Chris was discharged from the hospital, but I was certainly not as scared as I had been.

When I arrived at home, I parked the car and went inside. Not wanting to waste time, I headed straight to my bedroom. Before I even got up the stairs, Kevin my on-again, off-again boyfriend exited one of the bedrooms in his boxer shorts. But he didn’t come out of my bedroom. He came out of my roommate’s bedroom.

Our eyes met. We looked at each other in shock, though we were surprised for very different reasons.

………

Continue reading Rags to Riches: Part 17.

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

© 2018 Amber Green