(no subject)
“My Father’s Eyes”
By: Ivy Quihuis
Written: 1998 or 1999
My smile fades as the ’98 Sable approaches quickly. I squeeze Anna’s hand. The dull stinging in my wrist reminded me why my parents were here. They don’t even get out of the car. My mom talks to Anna’s mom, while my dad sits silent. Then the policemen walk to my parents to tell them “the facts". Just the look of disappointment on my parents faces made me cry.
“Ivy, you’re riding with us to the hospital, come on.” My mother said in a stern voice.
“Ok.” There really wasn’t much I could say to that. Anna gave me her stuffed Sebastian. “I’m not mad at you Anna.”
“I know.” She looked so scared for me.
I opened the back door to my parent’s car, clutching the red Sebastian doll with all my fear. It was like walking into some sort of nightmare.
“What happened?” My mother asked.
“Did you cut yourself making a sandwich or something?” My dad asked without turning towards me.
“No.”
“What happened then?” My mother asked.
I took a deep breath and spoke quietly. “I cut myself.” My dad let out a horrible sigh and my mom was trying desperately not to cry.
“Are you on drugs?” My dad looked towards me for the first time.
“No.” I was getting irritated.
“Then, what happened?” My mother almost seemed irritated with me as well.
“I was unhappy.” I felt like I didn’t have to say anything about it or that I owed them any explanation.
“You could have called us.” My mother said in a dead tone.
The thing was, I couldn’t. We pulled into the emergency room parking lot and headed bravely towards the door. My mother grabbed my hand, while my dad seemed to hang back a little. We sat down in the waiting room in silence. Looking at the floor, I waited to leave this hell.
“Ivy…Quehoos, Ivy…Quahawas?” That seemed quick.
“Quihuis.” My mom said in shame and stood up. We walked to the counter, while my dad reluctantly followed.
“Ok, what happened?” The nurse asked without even looking at me. She took my vitals in such a methodical manner, she acted as though this happened several times a day.
“I cut myself.” It sounded stupider every time I said it.
“How?” She stopped what she was doing and looked at me.
“Um, with a knife. I…” I hesitated. I thought it was apparent. “I cut myself.” I prayed that she would get the hint.
“On purpose?” she inquired.
I really did not feel like answering. “Yes.” With that, she led our seemingly dysfunctional family back to the hospital room two doors down on the left. We sat and waited for the doctor. My mother sat by the door, while my dad sat next to me. We waited in silence.
The door opened. “Ivy?” The doctor asked and I just nodded. “Hi Ivy, I’m Dr. Greenfield.” He came towards me. “Now, let’s see your wrist.” I held it out for him to see. “Ouch!” He said in a clinical manner. “Now, explain to me what happened.” He put his right leg up on the footstool and lunged towards me.
“I cut myself.” I stated bluntly, yet in a quiet voice.
“How did you do that?”
“With a knife.” I was hoping I wouldn’t have to
say anything else.
“On purpose?” He didn’t seem to be catching on.
“Yes.” This time I said it without blinking.
“Well then, I’ll be right back.” The doctor started to leave and my dad followed him.
“Can I speak to you?” My dad asked him softly.
“Sure.” The doctor led my father to the hallway. My mother and I sat in silence. I didn’t know what they were talking about, until the doctor and my father returned with a little plastic cup. The Doctor put his hand indifferently on my mother’s shoulder. “Mom, why don’t you help Ivy with this.” He opened the door for us, “I’ll be right back.”
“Come on Ivy.” My mom sounded tired. We walked down the hallway to a little bathroom on the right.
I started to take off my bloody clothes. I was wearing my favourite shirt; a long Joe Boxer tee-shirt that said 'BOO' with pumpkins for O's. But now my blood was all over. In the bathroom while Anna had been calling 911, she sent Ryan in to sit with me. It was the perfect choice. He was quiet at first, but he told me I had 'pretty blood'. We were able to laugh, and when I asked him what he meant, he said normally blood was dark and brownish, but that mine was bright red. I almost smiled at the thought and it made me not want to toss the shirt. “What are we doing, Mom?”
“They want to drug test you.” She helped me out. By ‘they’, my mom meant my father. “Is there anything you want to tell me before we do this?” She stared into my eyes.
“I got high at ‘Warped Tour’.” I figured that would be the only thing that would show up.
She didn’t seem surprised. “I would have been concerned if you had never tried drugs. Just don’t let this be a habit.” She said and pointed towards the toilet. “Go.”
We left the restroom with her arm around my shoulder. When we came back in the room, my father was sitting by the bed and there were two doctors waiting for me. I resumed my position as ‘idiot’ on the starched white bed.
“Ivy, this is a psychiatrist who is going to ask you a few questions while I give you this shot.” The doctor held up a dull, cold, metal needle. I looked to my dad to wake me up from this horrible nightmare, and he just held my hand and laid me down.
“Just look at me, and maybe it won’t hurt so bad.” My dad said with a quaver in his voice I had never heard before.
“Do you hear voices?” The psychiatrist spoke.
“No.”
“Are you on any drugs?” He seemed to be checking off a list.
“No.” I began to cry. They didn’t understand.
“Are you unhappy?”
Didn’t it seem obvious? “Yes.” My dad’s hand twitched when I said that.
“Do you feel helpless?”
I started to feel like a big loser who belonged in the category of ‘voices’ and ‘drugs’. “Yes.”
“Ok.” He recommended my mom to take me to some counselor as soon as possible.
“Ouch!” Dr. Greenfield stuck the needle into the slit. The pain grew from a dull stinging to a horrible stabbing. I was crying. I looked over at my dad, and so was he. “Mom, Dad’s crying.” I was stunned. He was standing right next to me, looking down in sorrow at his daughter.
“I know, he has every right too,” she said. “You hurt him very much.” Looking up into my father’s squinted face brought forth a swirl of emotions I never knew I had. He smiled through the tears, but his eye’s showed that he was unable to handle the pain. The sound of my dad trying to stifle his tears made me feel helpless.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you guys. It’s not about you. You guys are good parents.” I tried to say anything and everything that might stop the pain my father was feeling. Unfortunately, he just kept crying.
We left a few hours later, after the sun had come up. My mom had brought some blankets for me to lie on, and I laid down on the huge, comfy backseat of her familiar car. As we rode home, my dad stroked my face as I tried to sleep. “Want to get some Mickey-D’s?” He smiled his goofy, sweet smile at me.
“No thanks, I just want to go home and sleep.” The summer sun was lighting our tired eyes. Driving down the road in no particular hurry, things were peaceful. We rode home in a moment of self-reflection. My parents haven’t spoken of that day. My dad seems to hold on a little tighter though.