Ronnie's Story Ch. 5
Chapter V--Rehab
_I can't escape myself
So many times I've lied
But there's still rage inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
So what if you can see the darkest side of me
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become_
_Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal
Somebody help me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
Somebody wake me from this nightmare
I can't escape this hell_
-Three Days Grace, "Animal I Have Become"
Ronnie woke up slowly, grudgingly. His head was swimming. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant feeling. It felt unfamiliar. The first thing he noticed was the irritating beep of a heart monitor. As he took notice of it, disliking the sound, he found that the rhythm quickened slightly.
Is that for me?
All Ronnie could do was barely open his eyes beyond small slits, the brightness of a hospital ceiling blinding him. He lifted a hand to rub at the crud in his eye, which seemed far more than was normal. Moving his arm, he also noticed an uncomfortable pinch in his arm. Finally, Ronnie's vision was getting decent enough to make things out, and he looked at his arm. An IV drip was hooked up to him.
Sitting up, Ronnie saw the clock It read ten o' clock. Outside, though, everything was dark. Had he been sleeping that long? He wondered, trying to think about what happened. Why was he here?
He remembered the drive home, the screaming and fighting that broke out between him and Ray. Then he locked himself in the bathroom and--Ronnie gasped. He remembered pulling out the panel underneath the bathroom sink. Behind where they kept the bathroom cleaners, he'd discovered the panel was loose. Termites had eaten away the wall behind the sink fixture, and Ronnie realized he could stash his booze there. Last he realized, there had been four handles of various things in there.
Ronnie thought hard. He remembered the first long swallow. He'd emptied a fifth of a handle of Jack all at once. Then he remembered doing the same thing twice more. He couldn't imagine being able to do more than that. A full fifth of JD was more than enough to get him completely tanked. Standing, Ronnie felt the cold floor beneath him and winced. To each side of him were a few other beds of furres in seemingly worse shape than he was in. Was this the ICU? Yes, Ronnie was fairly certain it was, considering the chameleon at the end of the row with a half-ruined skull. Ronnie pulled up his chart, reading what was on there, his heart dropping as he read between the lines of it.
The admittance was timed at 2:00am. They had gotten home only around 3:00pm the previous day. Given so much time, there was no telling how much Ronnie had drunk. All he knew was that there was a solid ten hours he couldn't quite account for. If he was black-out drunk before four, God only knew how much alcohol he'd drowned his liver in.
"You're up."
Ronnie whirled, dropping the pad he was looking at. Ray was leaning against the doorway that led into the room. He sighed, sitting on the bed, letting himself relax. There was no hiding this one. "Yeah."
"Doctors thought they were going to lose you."
"They did?"
"You remember anything?"
"Just getting home... the fight. Then the bathroom."
"The police broke in the door, found you unconscious, vomit everywhere."
"The police?"
"I didn't know you had alcohol in there. If I did, I would have worried a little more about your going quiet."
"Don't blame yourself, babe," Ronnie said, turning to look at Ray. But Ray's face was Stoic.
"I don't."
Ronnie bit his lip, looking down at his lap. His hands were resting there, playing with each other. "I'm sorry."
"Are you?"
"Of course!"
"Then admit you have a problem." The voice was quiet, but it was firm.
"What do you mean?"
"Ronnie, admit you have a drinking problem. We will go from there."
"I don't have a problem. I've just been having a hard time lately."
"You sound like my father."
"I am not your father!" Ronnie replied, his fiery temper lashing out at Ray. But Ray was gone. There was nobody there. Ronnie ran to the doorway, tugging the IV until it fell over and the plastic broke open, spreading its contents all over the floor. Ronnie ripped the needle from his arm angrily, then looked back and forth in the hallway. It was mostly empty. A panda nurse was slowly carting her way by, looking at Ronnie oddly before returning her attention to her duties.
"Hey!" he shouted at the panda. She jumped nearly out of her fur, and turned back towards him. "There was a horse standing here, just now. Where did he go?"
"Oh, I think I saw him head towards the exit," she said, indicating the opposite direction from which she was going.
Ronnie's heart was pounding. He didn't know what to do. He ran over to the areas where the other patients were, looking into the cabinets where their personal belongings were. Starting with his own, Ronnie saw nothing but his somewhat-vomit-tainted sneakers. He pulled them out, wiping them on the hospital gown he wore. Running to the chameleon's closet, he found a ruined set of motorcycle clothes. There was nothing good there. Going through the next one, he found a baggy t-shirt that was worn by an elderly brown bear that lay in the adjacent bed. Ronnie then went to the cabinet for a lithe tiger that looked to have been shot. His pants were, fortunately enough, untainted and just about Ronnie's size. Throwing the clothing on and tossing his hospital gown aside, he got himself moving. Just outside the room, he smiled at a young, ambitious looking male nurse that seemed to be some sort of odd mixture of feline, canine, and who knew what else. The nurse turned into the very room Ronnie left. That was when Ronnie decided to take a detour down a different hallway. He didn't need to be caught just disappearing like this.
Once outside, Ronnie drew his arms close to him. It was freezing. The first real October front had made its way through the Big Apple with a vengeance.
"Hey you!" some shady-looking hyena said, sidling on up to Ronnie from where he was leaning against the front wall of the hospital. Ronnie tensed, ready for anything.
"What do you want?" he said, making sure to sound hostile enough without seeming like an instigator.
"Chill, man. Just got something for you." The anonymous hyena put an envelope into Ronnie's hand and turned around, disappearing into the shadows of the Bronx. Opening it, Ronnie could instantly recognize Ray's meticulous handwriting. He opened the letter, dreading what it said.
"Dear Ronnie,
If you're getting this, it means you responded the way I dreaded: with hostility and denial. Don't delude yourself, baby. My father was an alcoholic, and I dealt with him for the first sixteen years of my life. I know what you are. You, apparently, do not. The only thing I regret is that I didn't notice it sooner. Coming home to you passed out and unwakable, your trips to the men's room at the restaurant almost immediately after your shift starts, the fact you always make sure to get your own coffee while completely ignoring me every time I offered. And yes, I found the stash there. And the one in the bathroom. And the one underneath your bedside stand. I am still working on finding any others that might exist. I made it a promise to myself that I would not live with someone who abuses alcohol. I intend to keep it that way. Until you come around and are ready to admit you have a problem, you are not welcome back at the apartment. Your things are being held at the super's office until you come by to pick them up. There is money in the envelope for you to keep you up for at least a few days. Just please do me a favor and don't waste it away on alcohol. I love you and want to help you, Ronnie, even if you don't love me the same way. But I can't help you until you admit you need help yourself. Until then, au revoir, my sweet bun.
-Ray
Ronnie heard others approaching from inside the hospital. Turning to look, he saw several furres through the sliding glass doors. They looked upset, and they were being followed by three security guards. Ronnie made himself scarce as quickly as he could.
Once in the security of an alleyway, Ronnie looked at the cash inside; five hundred bucks. He sighed and stuffed the cash into his pocket.
Thunder rolled nearby as Ronnie stepped out onto a street. Looking both ways, he recognized it as the same street he and Ray lived on, except their place was three blocks further north. Ronnie began walking south.
The next two weeks, Ronnie found himself living much the same way he was before he found Ray. This time, however, he did not have the safety and security of a warm apartment. Much to his surprise, however, he found that the security officer that watched the Nederlander Theater had a certain appetite for young, sweet-looking buns willing to suck his cock. The middle-aged Doberman was hung for his species, but it was easy enough for Ronnie to handle after all he'd learned from Ray. In exchange, Ronnie managed to stow away in the theater, keeping himself hidden away in a small, mostly unchecked storeroom at night and disappearing during the day. He watched a little portable television while he whiled away the days, munching on stolen food and sipping stolen booze. The five hundred dollars still lay untouched under the bit of bedding he'd set up in the back of the room, hidden behind a large embankment of unused and discarded props and junk.
And every night, Ronnie was able to sneak up into the rafters to watch Rent.
It was a Saturday when Ronnie finally began feeling the depression hitting him hard. It was three in the morning when he performed his first B&E to get some liquor. All the stores were closed, and his stash was dry. He eluded the police easily enough, but now found himself lit and rocking in his makeshift bed. It was already 9:30 in the morning, and Ronnie found himself taking a sick little pleasure in watching the fiasco that was the "transgender scandal." It was the only thing that had kept him going all this time. While he was busy getting his stomach pumped and is doctors were struggling to resuscitate him, Luca was sleeping for the last time in some semblance of normalcy. It would be while Ronnie lay in bed recovering that the Principal of Harris High was put on the map for backing his two tranny outcasts.
And now, Ronnie was watching, hoping that they'd let Zee run. He didn't want Zee to win, he wanted Zee put in his place. He wanted to see that smug bitch who thought herself worthy of having a cock fail miserably. When Zee so thoroughly succeeded, he cursed up a storm. But then he saw the hurt in Zee's face. The telecasters hardly seemed to notice the face of a broken fur, but Ronnie could see it, and he relished in it. He saw as Zee marched off the field, he saw as Zee made his speech to the reporters, and he saw when Zee beat the hell out of Keller, who was right up there beneath Luca as one of the furres Ronnie hated most. But then he saw it: the thing he'd been praying to see all this time. Ronnie drew a deep breath, his conscious mind expecting the welling of excitement and happiness that would come from watching Luca getting so devastated by that bitch Zee, and broke down into heavy sobs.
It was freezing cold outside, the rain stinging harshly in its almost-sleet state. Luca was in her room, curled up with her arms and legs wrapped tightly against a comfort pillow. Her eyes were still wet. They hadn't dried since that morning. Her nostrils were caked with crud. Her hair was matted and messy. And still, Beccah stayed with her, curled up behind Luca, holding her best friend, snoozing slightly after the long day. Harold was sprawled in the window alcove, unceremoniously snoring away. The darkness of the night outside seemed particularly oppressive. The power had gone out again that evening, and the only light in Luca's room--probably the entire house--was a single lantern on her desk.
Then there was a knock at the door.
Lifting her head with a slight sniffle, Luca looked at her phone. It was nearly midnight. Who the hell would that be?
Walking down the stairs, she heard her mother shuffle around upstairs. Looking up, the light from her lantern cast an eerie glow on her mother.
"Who is it?" Susanne asked groggily.
"I don't know," Luca said, but she had an idea. She hoped it was Zee. She continued to the door, imagining him wet and crying. She imagined him begging her to let him in, to let her back into her life. She knew she would, but some vindictive little piece of her would string him along until he was just crazy with desperation. She would--
Luca had opened the door. What she saw wasn't Zee Polaski. It wasn't his parents, apologizing for their shithead son. It wasn't Harold's parents, demanding why their son was still hanging out rather than home as they ordered him to be an hour ago. No, standing in the doorway, soaked to the bone and reeking to high heaven, was Ronnie.
"I'm so sorry, Luca," he said, immediately collapsing forward, sprawling halfway into the doorway.