Chapter 8

— Tris

I groan as I swallow the capsule of oxycodone that Julie gives me, sticking my tongue out to prove I actually swallowed it after I take it.

That's all I take now: a capsule in the morning and a capsule at night.
It's my two least favorite times of the day.

"You're making really great progress, you know that, right?" Julie holds my arm as I stand, and I shake off her arm, holding onto the crutch.

"So can't I go home and be with my family then?" I accept a second crutch from her as I slowly walk on both of my feet. The pain is there, but I've had worse.

"Once we can trust you to take your meds twice a day."

"They're not meds," I correct her. "Meds are suppose to help you. These meds have never helped me."

"Okay," she doesn't pick an argument. "We will talk later. Who's coming to visit you today?" She holds the door for me as we go down the hall at a snail-like pace.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. Probably friends, because I know my husband can't come this week. I hope whoever it is brings my son, but we'll see."

"Is there someone I can text with your phone to find out? I can ask if they can bring Thomas?" She suggests as we trudge along.

"I should be able to text by myself, but my damn hands won't stop shaking from these meds—"

"Tris I'm just trying to help." She cuts me off and I sigh.

"I don't want help. Can't you see that?"

She opens her mouth to say something, then stops, biting her cheek as we turn down another hall.

Deep down I know I shouldn't be being so tough on her.
She can't help my past: the addictive drugs I was forced to take.
She's just trying to help.

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice barely a mumble.

"It's just the oxycodone causing you to spiral like that. It's a good thing that's happening: it means your body is adjusting to the new dosage."

I nod, not wanting to hear it.
Why can't I just stop taking it completely? My body will adjust. It has before.

"Do you want to keep walking, or do you want to go back?"

"Do I have to eat if I go back?" I ask and she nods. "Well then let's keep walking."

This is part of my every day life in the hospital now. Every morning I have to walk before breakfast, then depending on the day I either have physical therapy in the afternoon or I am just taken on another walk.

"Uh, change of plans. We're going to head back to your room because your breakfast was just brought."

I groan, turning around and walking at the same dreadfully slow rate back the way we came.

"Well, whoever comes if you want to use one of the larger visiting guest rooms or go outside, just ask another nurse or me if I'm around." She says as we take a turn back to the hallway where my room is.
The hallway is long, and my room is at the further part of the hallway, right before an intersection of this hallway and another. I still don't have a clear map of the hospital in my head, but I know the elevators are to the left of that intersection.

I sigh as we stroll along, my left leg burning in pain as I cheat and use the crutches like I did for so many years and hop on my right leg. Julie gives me a look, and I already knew that I am suppose to be walking and not hopping.

"It was just for one step." I mumble, mentally rolling my eyes.
And so we trudge down the hallway, small steps at a time.

"Mama!" My mind snaps out of the pain that I am in and back to the present.
The present has my three year old running towards me, his arms outstretched, his little legs moving fast.
The present also has my brother, his uncle running after him, my son giving him a run for his money. Caleb catches up, scooping him in his arms just as they reach me.

"Hey!" I laugh, no longer absent minded. I kiss Thomas's cheek and hug Caleb.

At this point I am just a few painful steps away from my room where I will be able to finally sit.
I really just want to lay down and close my eyes for a while.

Caleb holds the door for me with one hand and has Tom in his other arm. I make my way into my room only to be greeted by my father taking me in his arms.

"It's so good to see you honey," he says kissing my cheek and I smile.

"You're walking so soon? You could injure yourself! Let me help you sit—"

"Dad, I'm fine!" I snap, hobbling past him to the bed. I sit, propping the crutches on the bed as I slowly swing my left leg up, leaving the right one dangling off.

"I'm sorry, the drugs and the pain—"

"It's okay," he interrupts my apology and I try my best to give him a small smile. My mother stands up and comes over to me, tucking my hair behind my ear and kissing my forehead.

"It's good to see you're already up and moving, sweetheart." She takes my shaking hand in hers and I sigh, closing my eyes for a second. Caleb comes over and sets an eager Thomas next to me. He clings to my arm, as if Caleb will pull him off of me, clearly having no intention of letting my arm go.
I lean over and press my lips to the top of his head, loving having him close to me once again.
"Tobias and Thomas have been staying with us for a few days while Tobias has meetings just outside the Abnegation sector." My father tells me, sitting himself down. He's showing his age more and more each time I see him: his hair turning a darker grey and adapting mannerisms of older men.
My mother sits in the chair where Tobias usually sits right next to my bed, and Caleb leans on the bed, insisting that he does not need a seat when I offer for him to sit at the foot of the bed.

"Thank you for letting them stay with you," my voice is small, and all my brain can focus on is the pain in my leg and my son who hides his face in my arm.

"Of course, Beatrice. It's not a problem, it's a pleasure." My mother smiles, her eyes comforting.

I feel my chest grow tight as my hands shake and I worry I will snap and say something I don't mean again.
My leg is pulsating painfully, and I can't focus on the conversation my brother and parents are having.

I focus myself on Thomas, rubbing his thin blonde hair.
He really is in need of a haircut.
"How's Indy?" I ask him, knowing it's a question he can answer.

"Indy go woof!" He giggles making me smile.

"Is he being a good boy, just like you?" I ask and he shyly nods hiding back in my arm.

"Uncle Uri has dog!" His eyes grow excited as he clearly remembers.

"Is it a big dog or a little dog?"
"Little."
"Is it a puppy?" I ask and he nods.
"What color?"
"Brown and..." he stops to think. "White!"
"How cute!"

I find myself able to focus in on the conversation they are having, something about Caleb's job, from what I understand.

"Did you get my text?" Caleb turns to me and I shake my head no.

"I really can't hold anything easily. My hands shake really bad all the time right now." I said and he nods understandingly.

"Christina is being prepped for a caesarean right now, Cara is down with her and Will." He says smiling and I sigh in relief.
I thought she was going to be pregnant, at this rate, forever.
I'm glad she's finally getting to meet her little girl.

"That's exciting!" I smile the best I can, feeling myself fade from the conversation again.

I feel mildly lightheaded as they all talk. I know I shouldn't stay quiet about feeling lightheaded, but I do.
I enjoy their company, and I know if nurses have to rush in and take my vitals just to blame it on the oxycodone and my body adjusting, they will probably leave.

My mother looks at me, clearly talking to me, but all I hear is my pulse in my ears.
"Huh?" I ask, the sound of my pulse fading.

"I said do you want to lean back? You don't look so well." She says and I nod, moving around Tom next to me to lean back on the bed. She adjusts the pillow behind my head and I lean back.

"I'm fine," I meet her eyes and all I see is worry in hers. She blinks, clearly mentally contemplating something before sitting back down and joining in the conversation again.

Thomas lays over, his head on my stomach as he plays with his fingers. A few times they try to engage me in their conversation, but I am just unable to keep my attention on them as the pain takes over all of the thoughts in my brain.

After a while Caleb heads out to get Bea from school. He's picking her up early to come and meet her new cousin, this time on the other side of the family.

It's a good thing Christina is getting a c-section, especially with her phobia of blood since the war.
She couldn't even be present when Rose gave birth; it would have been hard for her to handle the blood coming from her own body.
Chris is tough though, so I'm sure she would've managed; especially with Will by her side to help.

"I'm going to take Thomas back home with me, Beatrice." My father bids me a goodbye, and I thank him for coming and kiss Thomas on the head.
"I'm going to stay with you for a while," my mother takes her hand in mine, wrapping both her hands around my right shaking hand in a comforting way.

"Talk to me." She says in a comforting, yet motherly tone. My eyes meet hers and I say nothing.

"They brought you breakfast. Either you can eat or you can tell me what's wrong." She bargains with me like a small child.
I dislike both of my options, so I just continue to look at her.

"Beatrice, physically it's clear you're doing better, but I know something is wrong. Just talk to me, sweetie." Her hand cups my face and I sigh, exhaustion taking over.
In defeat, I pick up the piece of toast with my shaking hand and take a small bite before it falls back on the plate.
It's surprising it actually stayed in my hand for that long, considering how badly my hands are shaking.

"Is your hands shaking related to the painkillers?" She asks and I nod.
Painkillers. That's a new one.

"I didn't choose this," I croak out. My one hand going to my hair and resting on my head.
"No one is saying you chose this, Beatrice. They aren't, because you didn't."

"I know," I snap. "It's just that this is drug addiction, and no one has a drug addiction that they didn't choose to have. I didn't choose to take the oxycodone, and now I can't be with my three year old because I'm not trusted to take the pills that are destroying my life." I don't make eye contact with her.

"I didn't want to bring a child into the world just for them to have to suffer through a war like we did," my voice cracks. "And now I'm sitting here, unable to be released from the hospital so I can care for him. All I can think about is how Tobias and I wanted another child, yet we are on the break of a Cold War and I can't even take care of the one son I have," I rage.
"Not to mention who knows if or when I will ever be able to be pregnant again because, well, an oxycodone addiction has put a damper on my life."

She doesn't say anything, but she runs her hand across my cheek. I feel as if I am a sick little girl, and she is taking care of me, trying to make me feel better.

"Talk to your doctor, see what she says. I'm sure she can give you a time frame of when it would be safe to carry after all of this trauma to your body." Her voice is calm in comparison to mine, and I wish I was half the mother that she was.

"You're doing the best that you can do, both you and Tobias. You have a wonderful support group of friends, along with Evelyn and your father and I. If you're thinking you've ruined Thomas's childhood, you've never been more wrong in your life, Beatrice," She sighs, going back to holding my hand.

"He has nothing to compare this to, and he probably won't even remember this all in another year, honey. How much do you remember from when you were three?"

She has a point.

"Even if things go badly with the Bureau, you will always have this support system, and Tobias and you will always have each other to protect and love Thomas. You just have to trust that you don't know the future, and you can't control what does happen in the future. Things will not be like this forever. Just slow down and face things as they come; you don't always have to be ten steps ahead."

She is quiet, rubbing her thumb over my hand. My head swims in thoughts as my leg painfully pulses. It feels as if a million tiny knives are being pressed in and yanked out with each beat of my heart.

"I don't want to be this way: unable to control the words that come out of my mouth! I shouldn't have to be out of control like this, I didn't choose to take oxycodone, mom! I didn't choose this..." I sob at the end, tears finally falling after this whole time we've had together.

"Honey, this isn't forever. This is just right now. Now look, look at me," her fingers gently nudge my chin in her direction. "You will get through this, Beatrice. This is one, maybe large, but one bump in the road. You've gotten through much, much worse things. What makes you think you can't get through this?"

I aspire to be even half the person that my mother is.
I don't deserve her.
But I'm lucky as hell to have her.