"Charlie, I understand your keenness," I'm shifting in my seat with impatience. All I want right now is for him to sign this piece of shit document so I can get the hell out of here. My shrink for the past year watches me worriedly "I honestly do not think that you're ready to get back on the court just yet."
"Well, my doctors think about the opposite. And it's their opinion I give a f***k about, so."
Ok, I give a f***k what Schumacher thinks, but he doesn't have to know that right now.
Dr Schumacher makes the same face he makes every time I swear- one that conveys the words what am I going to do with you. I ignore him and push the paper towards him "you said you'd let me go as soon as my doctors clear me. Here, I've been cleared. Let me go."
Schumacher doesn't move an inch towards the white paper sitting on the coffee table but only stares at me in a way that makes me want to hit something. But I don't because that's not me anymore. One thing Schumacher might have managed to help me with the past year is learning how to control the anger inside me. At least, towards him. "Come on Charlie, tell me how you feel about being back on the team, officially."
"This is not a session, Doc."
"I know." Folding his hands, he leans back into his beige sofa "but if I'm going to sign that thing, we are going to have to do this."
I stare at him, slight anxiousness building up in my chest. I clear my throat and push it down, way down where it should be. I let a little smile play on my lips "I feel fucking great, Doc. You've helped me get through all of my issues. I am ready to get back out there."
Schumacher has a weird habit of running his hands over his bald head when stressed and fiddling with his glasses when worried but today, he's doing both at the same time. "How's your sleeping pattern," he adds, grabbing his notebook and pen from the little coffee table separating the both of us "Have you been sleeping?"
"Like a baby." I lie. I can't f***king sleep-at least not naturally. The pills he gave me will knock the life out of anything.
"You still use the pills?"
"Not anymore."
Schumacher watches me intently like he can tell that I'm feeding him some bullshit, but he doesn't call me out. Well, his profession wouldn't allow him to. I know the real Schumacher would be willing to rain some German curses on me right about now as I haven't been the best patient. He might have helped me get through some dark days but my head is pretty fucked up. There's a reason why they're called demons, you can't fight them off. No matter how you try, even if you've got the best shrink in the goddamn city.
"You do know that as soon as I sign these papers, I'm legally not allowed to prescribe those drugs to you anymore."
F**k.
I need those pills. They don't stop the nightmares but at least they put me to sleep. I can't be showing up to practice looking like a f**king sleep-deprived zombie. That is the last thing I fucking need right now.
"Ok Doc, you got me." I groan mentally as I give in "I need the pills."
"Well then," If I wasn't accustomed to it by now, I would have missed the slight satisfied smile playing on his lips at the fact that he's got something to keep me here.
"Then what?" I frown as my phone vibrates against my jeans. I ignore it and focus on the German in front of me. If he thinks he's keeping me here for a second more then he's got another thing coming.
He glances at the paper "I can't sign that just yet."
"The hell you can't," I push my self off the chair so that I'm sitting upright "You promised you would, you have to."
"And you promised not to lie to me, Charlie." His voice is still steady, like always. I can never tell if he's hurt by my actions if he's angry or if he even cares. I know he cares. Maybe a little too much, otherwise he wouldn't be pulling this shit. "you might not see it right now, but this is what's best for you."
I groan as my phone vibrates again, this time for longer, getting my attention. I pull it out hurriedly so I can see who the hell is bugging me. I groan even more loudly when I see the name that's flashing on the screen. I stuff it back in my pocket. "Okay Doc, you need to sign that now. I've got to go."
"Did you not hear a word I just said, I don't think that you're ready."
I blink, not understanding why Schumacher is deciding to pick today of all days to frustrate me. Any other day and I would have accepted it but now really isn't a good time to be picking an argument with me. I need to go.
I've known the man for a year-he's not going to give up for shit. Germans can be quite stubborn. "Okay, what do you want from me," I question while resting back in the comfortable sofa in his spectacularly furnished LA office.
"If you agree to meet me, once every week, as usual, I'll sign your papers."
"It's easy for you to say when you're not the one paying." With a slight shake of my head, I continue "you know the school wouldn't agree to it. And quite frankly, I don't want to be the one to pay for your services. You're very expensive Doc, I've been wanting to tell you."
And there's no way in hell I'm asking my father for help. Not in this world or the next.
"Well, one of the perks of being the best shrink in the city." He smiles proudly and I can't help thinking he must be glad all those sleepless nights studying psychology is paying off "but don't worry, this one's on me."
"Really?" I ask finding it weird that he's willing to lose in on that much money because of me. We both know he can easily replace me with celebrities who are willing to pay anything to have Schumacher as their shrink. Schumacher is quite popular amongst the bourgeoisie. One time I ran into f**king George Clooney after a session. Safe to say that I've sat in the same chair as Goerge Clooney "and why would you do that?"
"Because someone needs to take care of your mental health even if it's not you."
"Gee thanks, you're very kind." I roll my eyes "I can only promise to be here once every two weeks. College is hectic now that I'm a senior."
Which isn't totally a lie. Ever since my accident, I've been trying to be on top of my school work. Not that I had anything better to do after getting out of the hospital. I wasn't even allowed to hold a ball until my doctor's go-ahead two months ago. And now with the season just around the corner, Coach is hellbent on making sure we're passing all of our classes so that he doesn't have to bench one of us-or worst pull us out of the team.
"As long as you promise to show up." My phone vibrates in my pocket again as he picks up the papers from the table. God, I wish she'd stop calling me "we don't want a repeat of what happened last year."
Glad to have finally come to an agreement with him, I sigh in relief when he hands me the signed clearance paper. I give him a thankful smile as I get up to leave "Thanks." Although he doesn't seem too happy about my decision, he gives me a small smile.
"You be very careful, Charlie."
"Sure thing, Doc."
***
As I stand in front of my mother's house, I realise it's the last place I want to be. But as much as I despise all the things she has put me through, I love her and have to be there for Mila.
I shoot a quick text to Melissa Huntley, the chief editor of the school paper who seems very happy to help me gain every ounce of media attention I missed out on last season. To be honest, I need anything to make the NBA aware of my comeback. 8 hard months of physical therapy, psychological therapy and little practice here and there, I believe that I'm ready to declare my draft for next draft pick. Even though a lot of people think it's nearly impossible after being off the court for so long, I believe in myself and that's all that matters.
"Uncle Charlie?" I look away from my phone to see Mila seating on top of the worn-out wooden steps that lead up to my mother's beat-up house. The house looks even worse than the last time I came. My five-year-old niece is staring at me with teary eyes. I shut my car door, feeling anger build up inside of me as I walk to her.
What the f**k?
"What are you doing staying here outside?" I ask, bringing myself down so I can see her face. I ignore the slight tingle in my left knee. "Where's grandma?"
"She said to stay out here until help comes." The little girl can't stop the tears that leak down her face "and then she left."
I grit my teeth in annoyance, trying so much to keep myself from yelling out some cuss words. I scurry through my phone and dial my mother's number. She picks up on the first ring like she's been expecting my call.
"Where the hell did you put your phone, Charlie. I've been calling-"
"Where are you?" I walk away from Mila to talk to my mother. There's silence at the other end of the line and I snap "where are you, mum?"
"Gone."
"Gone," I repeat unbelievably as I run my hands through my hair in frustration "where in the world have you gone this time?"
"Las Vegas." She replies quietly and I can imagine her biting her lips anxiously like she does when she has stopped taking her lithium "Cynthia says she's got a job for me. You know we need the money."
"You mean your friend Cynthia? The one on the run from the police?" I glance at Mila to make sure she's not paying attention to me. I lower my voice before continuing "I told you not to worry about money. You need to come back home right now-"
"Listen, baby, this job can make me thousands of dollars. I'm not coming back until I get it."
"What about your lithium? Do you even have it with you?" I sigh when she doesn't reply. I place my free hand on my hip "And what about Mila, you can't just leave her."
"You take her."
You have got to be f**king kidding me.
"To where!" I ask in aggravation. Is she being for real "I live in a f**king apartment full of boys? I can't take her with me."
"Don't you dare Charlie-don't you dare use that tone with me." Her voice softly cracks and I realise she's about to start crying.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, reminding myself that she's not herself when she's off her medication. "I'm sorry mum." I apologise. "But you'll need to come back soon. Mila needs you."
"Take her to your father." She snaps into the phone. She knows there is no way in hell I'm doing that "that kid is both of your responsibilities as much as she's mine. I was calling you to let you know that I'm leaving. Now that you know, I will not be answering your calls anymore. Kiss Mila goodbye."
"Mum-" the phone beeps and I close my eyes. I place my finger on my forehead to calm the headache that's starting to form. "F**k," I mutter under my breath before walking to the tired little girl.
"Is grandma coming back?" Mila's blue eyes are sad and I hate to see her that way. I shake my head and she lets out a tiny sob that breaks my heart "is it because of me?"
"No booper, it's not because of you." I assure her, using my thumb to brush off her tears "grandma has gone on a little trip, she'll be back very soon."
"Promise?" She asks, her light blue eyes staring at me widely.
"Cross my heart." I feel like total shit for lying to a five-year-old girl but the lie is doing more good than damage. I grab her pink, Doc Mcstuffin bag and throw her over my shoulder "but you know what, you're stuck with me until then!"
She squeals as we walk to my black BMW. I put her down by the door and open my trunk to bring out her car seat. "I get to meet my boyfriend?" She asks excitedly as I buckle her in.
"I've told you, Bradley isn't your boyfriend."
"Why?"
"Because you're too young to have a boyfriend."
"I'm not."
I roll my eyes "Yes you are."
"But I love him." She blinks innocently making me scoff. Love? What does she know about love? "Grandma says if you love someone nothing matters." She adds with a smart smile.
"Well, grandma says a lot of things that aren't true." Especially when she's off her meds.
"You're only saying that because you don't have a girlfriend that loves you."
"Why would I want a girlfriend when I have you." I retort, pinching her chubby cheeks.
"Because I already have my boyfriend." she giggles loudly when I start attacking her with tickles. I grin, thankful to God that I have this little girl in my life. She might just be the only thing I have in my life that's not dark. "pee-pee." She struggles to let out and I stop because I'm not about to let her pee in my car.
"you know what I want?" I ask as I get behind the wheels and shut the door.
"Waffles!"