Comin' Home to You (16 page)

Owen picked at his eye. It was itching furiously. “Trust me, ma’am. I have no desire to damage a new liver.”

Dr. Sen pursed her lips together. “Then you’ll understand that we have requirements for those like you. We would like you to take an AA class. Also, we have counseling specific to alcoholics requesting a liver transplant. We would require you to attend meetings of that nature. They are strict guidelines, but they are a means to better yourself as well.”

“What if I promised to slow down my drinking?”

'That's not going to cut it, Mr. Tomkins. We need to see proof that you are trying to better yourself. Taking that class and the counseling are steps in the right direction. Until you do, I can guarantee all of us within this medical group will likely skip over you on the waiting list in favor of someone who needs it and won’t waste it.”

“Well, that seems awful cruel.”

“Cruel...I wouldn’t put it that way. We are in the business of saving lives. Sometimes, we see that others don’t want to save themselves. This is how it is, Mr. Tomkins. Unless you can think of a living donor who would match up and wouldn’t hesitate to help you now.”

Owen thought about it. He didn't want to ask his brother. Besides, Ben drank too. Though his liver might be better off than his own, he couldn’t ask his brother to sacrifice like that. His daughter would laugh at his huge request. Plus, with her hard use of drugs, her liver might be on its way out as well. The answer to Dr. Sen's question was no. He shook his head dolefully.

“Did Dr. Myers even explain to you about a waiting list?” asked Dr. Sen.

“He didn’t go into details about it. He mostly told me to stop drinking or I will die.”

“That’s all?”

“Well, I mean, he told me about my disease, gave me some pamphlets, but no, he didn’t really explain about the whole waiting list and how complicated this shit is. That’s why he referred me to you, I reckon.”

She shook her head and chuckled almost maniacally. “Well I am the best around.”

“I believe you, ma’am.”

“Still, he should have went into more detail,” continued Dr. Sen, her voice slowly trailing off into almost a whisper. “But I guess you can’t expect more from redneck doctors.”

A puff of air shot out of Owen’s nose in disbelief. “Whoa, whoa. Yeah, Dr. Myers may be a bit country, but he's still a doctor, same as you.”

Dr. Sen's eyes widened in amusement. “Oh no, he is not the same as me. What's that saying? Even a blind squirrel finds a nut? Something like that. Same for doctors. Occasionally, even an idiot, especially a country bumpkin, will pass med school. Don't you dare compare me to him! I’m the best in this area, maybe even the state at what I do.”

If Owen was an abusive man, he would have felt the need to slap her and get her back in line. It wasn’t as if Dr. Myers was particularly close to him, but he felt the need to protect him and his abilities as a doctor. There was clearly something there that made her so uptight and unfriendly. It made no sense, as she had everything she could ever need. She was a successful surgeon, obviously wealthy and drop dead gorgeous. But he guessed even the perfect ones had their problems.

An awkward silence filled the room. Dr. Sen unprofessionally checked her cell phone. Owen rubbed his eyes with his thumbs. His head was starting to ache. This entire visit felt like a complete waste of time. Despite the growing animosity, he wanted to finish this on a somewhat positive note. “An Alcoholics Anonymous class and counseling is what you want me to do?”

“It would do nothing but help you. It would help us consider you a great deal more than if you didn’t. Even still, we may not consider you just by going on your past history.”

“Really? It's going to be like that?”

“Get over yourself, Mr. Tomkins. There are children on that list who never did a thing wrong in their lives. That man outside is the same way. He did nothing but make love his wife. I know he told you. Only reason I am telling you. Otherwise, I’d be breaking doctor-client confidentiality. He tends to tell everyone, but that’s beside the point. He has been on the list for a year and he may be on the list for another year. He may not make it to see the day when he is finally chosen for a transplant. That man has four kids that he is struggling to feed, because he can't stay healthy enough to work!”

Dr. Sen continued her unrelenting scolding, gesturing wildly. “And you come in here all high and mighty, thinking you can just replace your alcohol-scarred liver for a new one? What makes you deserve one over a toddler? Why do you think you should receive a new liver over Mr. Somersby outside? Ask yourself that.”

He knew he had a problem. As such, he took Dr. Sen's verbal assault with as much muster as he possibly could. Still, the reality of it stung like a bee sting. He made mistakes in life. There was no denying that. After Patricia died, he was able to kick almost all drug habits except alcohol, for that was a vice he just couldn’t let go. He found himself drinking more and more until it became an everyday necessity. It eased the pain of living alone. But as Ali grew and Austin was born, he had other reasons to be joyous. Even now, facing a life without alcohol, the tastes of whiskey and beer would still be on his mind, helping him cope with all the struggles of the world. But if push came to shove, could he kick the habit completely? It was a tough question he asked himself. Only one human could influence him enough to make that decision.

“I have family too...a grandson.”

“I'm happy for you,” retorted Dr. Sen. A strong hint of sarcasm was in her voice and eyes.

“It's true. I don't know what will happen to him if I am not around.”

“Wonderful, tell that to all the other people who are waiting for a transplant. They have kids and grandkids, husbands and wives who will be alone too. They will tell you the same thing. You're not special.”

“Alright, now you are just being a bitch.”

“And you're a dick.”

He was angry, but instead of displaying it, he laughed out of frustration. He felt strange doing it, but it also felt right. However, his chuckle must have been contagious, for Dr. Sen let out a hearty laugh as well. But it didn’t seem to be a fake laugh. A smile remained on her face as she looked into Owen’s eyes. He had no idea if it was a smile of anger, maliciousness, or a genuine friendly smile. How could it be the latter? All she had done since he entered the examination room was berate him.

“Listen,” she said calmly, trying her best to become a neutral doctor. “I can't make you stop drinking. I’m never going to tell someone how to live their life. If you want to kill yourself with a bottle in your hand, be my guest. But remember why you are here.”

“I’m here for my grandson. I’m here for my daughter, I guess. I’m here because I don’t want to die. I don’t…I can’t die. I just…” His face contorted to stop himself from shedding a tear.

“Nobody who comes in here wants to die, Mr. Tomkins. As doctors, our job is to save lives. But sometimes, we have to make tough choices. Just to show you how it will be if you don’t take the AA and counseling classes, if I had to make a choice between Mr. Somersby outside and you, I would pick him, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash about it.”

Owen sat silently, tightening his lips to his teeth. He’d only been speaking with Dr. Sen for over thirty minutes, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of betrayal. He had seen stories on the news where murderers, rapists, and pedophiles would be in the hospital with injuries, but they were still cared for. He didn’t consider himself any of those three types of criminals. Yet, he was being denied a spot on the surgical list due to his life choices. Well, not quite denied, but to get the surgeons’ approval, he needed to take unwanted counseling classes that would just be a complete waste of time. Were his life choices really that bad? Was he, as a person, even that bad? This all felt like bullshit to him. He deserved a damn break in life.

At the same time, he comprehended why he wouldn’t be chosen over the asshole in the waiting room. That man looked like a God fearing man who was dealt a horrible lot in life. He was a family man who wanted to survive for his children. But that thought triggered Owen’s victim mentality. He was also a man who wanted the best for his family. Was there any difference on the grand scheme of things?

It just wasn’t fair, but this was a known fact. He’d lived his life without his fiancé who overdosed, with a daughter who blamed him for her mother’s death and a grandson whose other relatives were absolute scum. Owen came here, hoping to get fixed up. He was willing to make the choices needed to get back on track with his life. If he had to cut his drinking down, so be it. If he had to stop cold turkey, well that would be something different. But he knew he could at least slow it down a tad. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like he would get that chance. He felt defeated by Dr. Sen, the Graysons, fate, everything.

Dr. Sen noticed how lost in thought Owen was by his unfocused eyes. “Do you have any other questions? Any questions about the counseling? Anything like that?”

Frowning for a moment, Owen tried to regain his composure, but to no avail. The arrogant stare in the doctor’s eyes pissed him off. “Are you fucking getting off on this?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Getting off on the fact that you are a miserable scumbag piece of shit? Yes, I really am so vindictive that I love to see a man destroy himself and leave behind his family. It turns me on to have to make choices where one man might live while another dies. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Owen gulped loudly. He realized his idiocy. Words wanted to escape his mouth, but he sighed instead.

“Your attitude is infuriating. You know this, right?”

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

Dr. Sen stood up. “I don’t know if I believe you, but I have other patients to attend to.”

As she attempted to walk by and out the door, Owen’s arm shot up, blocking her access. It did its job a little too well. His open palm grazed her breast. While it did oddly ease his mind to confirm that her breasts were indeed fake, his doe-eyed stare at her clarified it was just an accident.

Instead of jumping away, Dr. Sen calmly pushed his arm down. “Mr. Tomkins, your life is your own. But if you want to keep living, you’ll have to do it my way. My way is proof that life does mean everything to you, to your daughter, and to your grandson. Otherwise, I can only take you at your word, which I don’t believe whatsoever. My receptionist will fill you in on any counseling class and AA details you wish to attend. Goodbye.”

There was no point in pleading further. Listening to the rhythmic sounds of her pumps clacking away on the hardwood floor, he was left alone with his dark thoughts. Not only was he seemingly doomed to a slow and vomit-filled death, he made a complete ass of himself to the one person who could save his life. Though, any chances of that were now moot.

He dejectedly obtained the information for the AA class and the counseling sessions from the receptionist. On the way out, Mr. Somersby started by giving him a cocky look, but it soon changed to one of understanding. Owen could only frown as he acknowledged the man.

After walking out of the office building, he felt the warm rays of the sun on the exposed parts of his arms and face. While he always enjoyed the blissful feeling of warmth he received whenever walking outside, it felt melancholy this time. He almost wished that he never sought the counsel of a medical professional. If he was going to die, he’d rather not see it coming.

With the intention of heading back home, Owen absentmindedly entered his truck and took off down the busy Dallas road. Yet, it didn’t take him long to notice a bar and grill that specialized in chicken wings. Feeling a touch hungry for two of his favorite things, he pulled in to the parking lot, eager to satisfy his cravings. Hunger wasn’t his only desire, however. He was thirsty and it wasn’t for water.

Entering the establishment, Owen took a seat at the bar and promptly ordered a tall draft beer. The bartender placed the filled pilsner glass in front of the awaiting customer. He had to wait to drink it, as the bartender poured the beer with too much head, causing the foam to drip down the glass and onto the embossed bar top. While waiting for the frothy texture to recede, he took a look around the joint. It was your normal bar and grill type location. Even though it was in a populated Dallas area, the place wasn’t crowded. Although, it was only a little after 3 o’clock. He imagined this place would be more exciting after normal working hours. Even still, he wondered if his mental state could allow him to have a good time.

After his beer was finally drinkable, Owen tilted the glass on his lips, taking in the taste of the brew. It was as cold as he had hoped for and the flavor was crisp and precise. One drink was enough to soothe him, as alcohol had always been his bliss in liquid form.

Taking another sip, Owen leaned back and heard his back crack against the top rail of the stool. With nothing exciting on the televisions above him, he looked around, examining the patrons in the restaurant. The closest person to him was a man in a simple white tee and cargo shorts. His hair was short and spiked, and his youthful appearance screamed bored college student. He was constantly on his phone, raising his head only to take a drink out of his lime margarita.

Farther down the bar, a couple was getting a little too intimate for public consumption. He originally thought they were just a young couple enjoying their time, but after a second glance, he noticed only the woman appeared young. The darker-skinned man looked to be a bit more aged, wearing a white dress shirt with an ugly red tie.