“Are you tired of peel, peel, peeling, potatoes? Stop! Introducing Handy Peel...”

I flip off the television, disgusted with the early morning array of infomercials available on every channel.  I haven’t slept straight through the night in days, I’ve been too worried, and so I’ve resorted to watching the TV, hoping it will relax me.  It’s become really redundant though.  They show the same damn things over and over again.

I’m going fucking stir crazy, and I gotta get out of here, but right now, that seems almost impossible.

I’ve been in the hospital two weeks, and I still can’t get out of bed without the aid of a nurse.  They have me using a bed pan more than anything else to relieve myself, since it’s extremely difficult to get my leg out of this sling thing and my arm out of the extender without causing me more pain.  I feel like I’m a little baby sometimes, especially when they give me my daily sponge baths.  I can’t stand in the shower at the moment, so that’s the only option.

Shit, the nurses aren’t even hot.  It’s like getting bathed by my mother or something, so no, it’s far from something out of a decent porn video.  Trace feels for me, knows I’m going crazy laid up like this.  He’s been trying to visit me every couple of days, but I know with his wife breathing down his neck, those visits are going start becoming very few and far between.  She could care less that I’m sitting here in pain, and I know that.  In fact, if she had her way, she would put an end to Trace’s friendship with me all together.

Thank god for the NA meetings.  Nothing she can do about that.  I’m long overdue for one actually.  I hope Trace has been keeping everybody filled in.

It’s not his fault, even though he wants to blame himself.  It’s mine, completely.  Like Collins told me the first time I was coherent enough to have a real conversation with her, I should have asked for help the moment I found myself with no job and no place to go.  I was used to living that way though.  I’d been on the streets before, never for that long...but I still thought I could handle it.

I couldn’t though, and this is the price I’m paying for my stupidity.

My shoulder is still partially dislocated, my cracked ribs are still healing, and my leg is broken in three places.  That means it will be months before I’ll be able to walk without a cast on, or function normally.  My doctor says I’ll need to take it extremely slow when I’m discharged in a couple of days, and that I won’t be able to work until I’m completely healed.  He also told me it could take at least three months.  That means I won’t be able to start looking for another job until nearly the end of my six month deadline, and I know...I know how slim my chances are of getting something full time so quickly.  That means I won’t have a satisfactory place to live by the time my hearing comes around, a steady income, or money in the bank...

And I’m going to lose my daughter because of it.

I try not to sob as I think about it.  The idea takes over my mind every day, every hour and minute, sinking me deeper and deeper into myself, where I can’t feel anything.  They’re just going to cast her off to some family she doesn’t even know, and I’ll...I’ll never see her again.  I’ll go through life with that guilt, and I seriously doubt I’ll be able to forgive myself.  Collins keeps telling me not to worry about it when she pops in to see me every week, but her words aren’t comforting me.  Of course, I’m thankful for what she’s done, that she cared enough to go asking Trace questions so he’d want to go looking for me.

Otherwise, I don’t know where I would be right now.

I guess we’re even now, and I’ve decided to drop the whole thing that happened at the restaurant with her boyfriend.  She stuck her neck out for me, and I know she put her job on the line to keep all of this from her boss, my social worker, and the courts.  According to her, she hasn’t reported any of this.  She tells me she’s ‘working it out,’ whatever that means.  It’s better that she is, though.  It’s buying me some much needed recovery time, and what DCF doesn’t know won’t hurt them.

The only thing I can’t understand is why she’s giving me a break.  I used to think she was so tough.  So strict and by the book.  Now, though, she just seems like a regular woman with a good heart.

My friend...at least I think I can consider her that.

It’s a difficult line to cross, but I feel that if I want a chance with Ava, I need to go along with whatever it is that she’s working out for me.  If I could just see my daughter, it might put my mind a lot more at ease, only...this isn’t exactly the best time for her to see me.  I know she’s probably confused though.  I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks, and I doubt she’s been given much of an explanation.  She must think I’ve abandoned her, and I’d give anything to be able to tell her that I never would, but as long as I’m in this much pain, there’s no way I can.  Just sitting up in bed is a project right now, and so, I’ll lay here, helpless, until something else happens, or Collins comes up with a miraculous idea.

“Hey.”  Trace pops his head into the room silently, looking over his shoulder for a moment before flashing me a playful grin.  “Is the Gestapo here?”

“No,” I chuckle softly.  “You probably have a good twenty minutes.”

“Great.”  He slips in the door and gently pushes it closed.  “I snuck in some contraband.”  

He holds up a Mcdonald’s bag and I feel my smile grow wide.  “You kick ass.”

“I know.”  He pulls the chair over to my bedside and places it on my bed.  “Figured you were tired of the shit they’ve been feeding you in here.”

“Bland slop? I love it.”  I tug the bag close to me and pull out two sausage Mcmuffins and a hash brown.  “Thanks, man.”

“So listen,” he says, as I quietly begin to chew.  “I was thinking I might be able to talk Kate into letting you stay for a couple of weeks, you know, the baby won’t be here for another month or so...”

“No way.” I shake my head roughly and swallow the food in my mouth.  “I’m cool.”

He bows his head for a few moments before looking up at me again.  “At least you’ll be able to tell them you have a place to go.”

“You can’t save me all the time, Trace, and I’m tired of pissing off your wife.  I’ll figure it out.”

“You’re getting discharged in two days.”

I shrug.  

“Well, where the hell are you gonna go?  You can barely walk.”

“Collins says she’s working on it.”

He lets out a bitter laugh.  “You believe her?”
 
I pause, lick my lips, and wipe my mouth with a napkin.  “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Oh let’s see...she’s part of the reason your unemployed, for starters, not to mention that she’s a fucking DCF agent that’s been against you from the first day.”

“I don’t think she’s on their side anymore.”  I finish my breakfast and crumple the bag into a ball.  “I think...I think she wants Ava to be with me.”

“Sure, and when she pulls all this shit out in court and you lose your kid, I’ll say that you should have listened to me.  You can’t trust them, Justin.  No matter how nice or forgiving, or willing to help they seem.  In the end, they’ll use it all to fuck you over.”

I sigh, lean my head against the pillow.  He’s bitter against the system, but I can’t blame him.  The truth is, Trace has a son out there, hasn’t seen the kid since he was about two years old.  He turned the baby in willingly after his girlfriend died from a heroin overdose, vowing to get him back once he got completely clean again.  Only, things didn’t go as planned.  He let three years pass while he went to live at a rehab facility, and by the time he got back, the DCF agent told him that his son had already been adopted, that some form he had signed in court automatically terminated his parental rights.  Trace was misled by a deceitful agent, and it was unfortunate.  The drug addiction was to blame...Trace’s tragic mistake.  He’s tried time and time again to get a hearing to battle for custody, but the people that adopted his son have a ton of money, and more lawyers on their side than Trace could ever afford.

It’s a lost cause.  He’ll never see his son again, and he’ll never forgive himself, which is probably why he looks out for me and my daughter like this.  He doesn’t talk about his son much, just at the occasional NA meeting, and always breaks down afterward.  I’ve been there for him of course, just like he’s always been there for me.

“I’ll be careful,” I tell him, trying to sound serious.  “I promise.”

“I guess that’s the best you’re gonna do,” he mutters, and stands up.  “I gotta get to the store.  My district manager is in today, and my store looks like shit because of what’s been going on.  I’m going to get my ass handed to me, so don’t blame me if I’m in a shit mood the next time we see each other.”

“I have no idea why you bust your ass for people like that.  It’s not worth it.”

He pauses as he opens the door.  “Those people pay for my house, Justin.  That’s work...that’s life, and I really hope that one day you’ll get your act together and get your GED so you can have what I have.  I mean, I work my ass off, but...it’s worth it if it means I can provide for Kate and the baby.  That’s what’s really important, and I wouldn’t jeopardize my job for anything.  I’ll see you.”

“Yeah.”

The door closes, leaving me alone in the room again, and I sigh harshly.  He didn’t say it, but he wanted to.  I’m not trying hard enough, I’m trying to make other people handle my issues for me...like I always do.  It’s not Collins job to find me a place, but I have no fuckin’ idea what to do.  Every shelter I try to get into is always full, and I can’t land a decent job because...I need my damn GED.  You’d think with Ava I’d be more motivated than ever to get it too.

But I’m just so fuckin’ afraid of failing that I can’t bring myself to take the course.  It’s a real problem for me, taking tests, studying...it’s part of the reason I fell in with the wrong crowd and let drugs take over my life completely.  Again, it was one of those times I should have reached out and asked for help, but I just...didn’t.

And here I am.

I let myself doze off for a while, the food that Trace brought me bringing me enough comfort to do it.  I’m being coaxed awake what seems like ages later by a soft voice.  My eyes crack open, my good one faster than my bruised one, and I find my nurse standing above me with smirk on her face.  “I saw that somebody snuck you in breakfast,” she scolds.  “So I let you sleep for a while.”

“I know nothing, Nancy.  It was here when I woke up, and it seemed like a shame to let all that grease go to waste.”

“Uh huh. Come on mister, you stink, and come hell or high water, I will get you out into the fresh air today.”

She’s the one I like the best out of all of them, but she’s just part time, two shifts a week, and this is the only one she gets to spend with me.  She’s a mother, her kids are teenagers, and are all she talks about.  I’ve told her a little bit about Ava, and our situation.  She seems to understand, and has given me some pointers about the best way to get myself back into school and land a decent job.  I’ve tried take in the advice as best I can, but it’s hard...like this.

Nancy helps me into a wheelchair, and spends the next hour helping me bathe and getting me dressed in a fresh pair of pajamas and a bathrobe.  Once she finishes changing the dressing on my shoulder and getting my arm into the sling again, she pushes me out of the room, and into the activity center where she promptly signs me out and pushes me outside.  It’s a really nice, warm, sunny day.  I can understand why she would have wanted me to experience it, and I’m thankful for her.

Ava would love this.

“Here you go.”  She pushes my chair up to a table that has an umbrella overhead.  “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“I’ll bring you a lunch in a little while then.  Here’s some magazines in the mean time, and let somebody know if you need the bathroom, okay?”

I nod, thank her, and pick up an old copy of People magazine with my good hand after she walks away, becoming frustrated when it’s harder than I thought it would be turn to the pages.

Fuck, this sucks.  

“Hey.”

Collins takes a seat adjacent from me, and I put the magazine down and smile a little at her.  It’s earlier than normal for her to be here, but I’m sure her work schedule is allowing it today.  “Hey, Collins.”

“I don’t really have a lot of time...”  She trails off and begins to reach into her briefcase, pulling out some papers and laying them on the table.  She seems flustered, nervous, and agitated.  I’d ask questions too, but I’m not really sure if it’s my place...

And I guess Trace might have put a scare in me this morning too.

“I’ve been calling around everywhere trying to get you into a shelter before you’re discharged,” she tells me.  “Everywhere in LA is either full or only accepting parents with children, so I started looking into other counties...”

“Other counties?” I say as she pushes some pamphlets towards me.  “I can’t be that far from Ava...”

“It’ll only be temporary, until a spot opens up closer to home.”

I begin to pick up one of the pamphlets, all the while hearing Trace’s warnings in the back of my mind.

You can’t trust them, Justin.  No matter how nice or forgiving, or willing to help they seem.  In the end, they’ll use it all to fuck you over

I toss it down.  “I’m not going anywhere.  I want to stay in LA.”

“Justin...”

“Look, my mind is made up!  Just...think of something else!”

“There is nothing else,” she grunts.  “I’m trying to help you out.”

I look away from her, out into the distance...think about Ava, what’s best for her, and I know me being far away from her isn’t in the cards.  “And I’m trying to my kid back.”

“I know that.”

“Then do something else.”

“I’m not your damn social worker!”  

I hear her chair slide out harshly and it forces me to look at her again.  She’s gathering up the things she brought with her quickly, shoving them into her briefcase, and I have to admit...I’ve never seen her so unorganized.

“Collins...come on.”

“I’ll just...I’ll see you later.”

She’s on the brink of tears, and it hits me right in the heart.  Strange, this kind of shit never gets to me, but for some reason seeing her upset makes me want to comfort her, and I have no idea why.  “Whoa...I...I didn’t mean to be a jerk.  I’m sorry.”

She plops back down into the chair and puts her face in her hands.  “It’s not you.”

“Then what is it?”

She sniffles.  “Nothing...”  She trails off and shakes her head a little bit.  “I mean...I guess there is something else I can do that will keep you here in LA but...it’s just fucking crazy, and I’ll probably get fired in the end.”

It gets me to smile again.  “Can’t be much crazier than some of the stuff I’ve done.”

She stares at me.

“Damn, Collins, just tell me.”

“God...all right...I have some extra room at my place.  I could probably keep you there for a few weeks but...you’re going to have to deal with the plan I set into place for you, if this is going to happen.”

She’s right.  That is a crazy fucking idea.  “Live with you?”

“I didn’t say that.  I said you could stay with me for a few weeks.”

I smirk.  “So I’m going to live with you.”

“Whatever you want to call it, Justin.”

“What about your precious boyfriend?” I say it in an annoying voice.  “I doubt he’d be cool with some dude sleeping a few rooms down.”

“He’s away on business.  It’s just me.”

She says it bitterly, and I know why she’s so out of sorts now.  He’s being a dick, probably treating her like shit, but I could have told her about the type of guy he was that first night at the restaurant.  I glance at the diamond ring on her finger as it gleams in the sunlight.  The thing is massive, the symbol of the type of guy he is, and...she just doesn’t seem like the type of girl that would ever be with such a self absorbed idiot.  There’s more to her.  She has a personality, she’s smart, and could be with somebody that would appreciate what she’s all about.  Something is telling me that she’s with this guy because he’s the first one that came along that made her feel special, and she fell in love with him, because she didn’t know any better.

It makes me feel bad for her, sympathetic.

Makes me want to help her.

But I can’t...I can’t do that. Not with her.

“So what are the terms?” I sigh.

She pulls a large paperback book out of her briefcase and tosses it on the table.  I slide it forward with my good arm, and frown when I realize what it is.  “This is a GED course.”

“Right.  You can take it or leave it, but you’re not setting a foot inside my house unless you agree to take it.  The doctor told me you’re going to have to stay in bed for the first week or so that you’re out of the hospital, and that’s plenty of time to get started with the workbook.”

I shake my head.  “I can’t do it.”

“Do you really think the court is going to give you your daughter back without it?”

“It shouldn’t matter.”

“Well, you have to take it.  I’m not letting you fuck up your life more than it is.”

I scowl.  “Well, then I want to see Ava.”

“We’ll see.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Do you really want her to see you this way, Justin?”r32;
“No but...I have to see her, Collins.  I don’t have a choice about how I look right now.”

Her eyes get that sappy, sympathetic gaze in them again, and I think I may have won.  “Will you promise me you’ll do the course?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not unless you want to move really far away.”

“As long as I can have a visit with Ava.”

“Fine.  I’ll set it up.”  

We shake on it.

Trace is going to kill me, but really, what other choice do I have?