It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,33
A simple one.
To: BritCox_36Umass.edu
Subject: Baclofen pump question
Hello,
I’m sorry to write you out of nowhere like a creeper, but I saw your baclofen pump success story video and wondered if I could ask you some questions. I have CP and am in high school, and I’m really not sure about doing the pump. The doctors are all go for it and my parents agree, but I kind of want to talk with someone who’s done it. No BS. Just straight talk. I hope you don’t mind I wrote.
Here’s how to get me.
JenConeof3yahoo
Eleven
The following Monday is when the Uncle Steve stuff starts getting real. As I get out of school, I see him parked in the parent pickup lane in front. He beeps at me. Ben’s walking next to me, but stops when he spots my uncle. “What’s that about?”
“Welp, I may or may not be working with my uncle to get control of my medical rights.”
I twist my fingers as I tell him.
He puts his hands over mine. “You aren’t!”
“I might be.”
He grabs my hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I am always on Team Jenna. I mean always. But this seems kind of extreme.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
“No.”
Ben moves my bangs off my forehead. “Just be sure, okay? This is one of those bombs you can’t unexplode.”
“Is that even a word?”
“Not the point. You don’t think you could just speak with your parents?” Ben asks.
“I don’t know.” I hold a finger up for Uncle Steve so he knows I’ll be right there. “I just know that I need to feel in control of my life.”
“Jenna, nobody’s in control of their life.”
I laugh. “As much as I can be.”
“Don’t you think changing classes was enough? And by the way, other than having Julian in your class, how has that little experiment played out?”
“Fine,” I say, but I know I don’t sound confident.
“Riiiiight. That’s why you keep logging into my AP textbooks.”
I blush.
“I gotta go, sweets. But just be careful. This is the real world, you know? Not some story or fantasy.” He kisses me on the forehead and then bounds off.
My hands go to my mouth. Ben’s right. I’ve got to be careful. I shield my eyes with my hand and walk toward Uncle Steve’s matte black Jeep. Yeah, he’s that kind of cool uncle.
Uncle Steve gets out when I make it to the Jeep and stands by as I lift myself into his car. “Sorry,” he says. “This thing is stupid.”
“Stupid awesome,” I say.
He grins, runs his hand across his beard. “Yeah.”
I point to his facial hair. “No court dates lately?”
“I make my junior partner do most of those these days. You know, so I can look scruffy.”
“Living your best life,” I say. Then, “Does Dad know you are here?”
“Yes. But not why.”
“How’d you play it this time?”
“Your mother has her book club tonight. Rena has drama rehearsal. Your father is out of town. I told them I’d take you to dinner.”
I point to my temple. “Smart.”
“I know, right?”
“Although it is slightly annoying that they feel the need to have coverage for me when they go out.”
“Listen, you have every right to be outraged by many things. The fact that the dress code is stricter for girls than boys. The unfairness of gender inequality when it comes to pay. The fact that Panic! At the Disco is now only Brendon Urie. Dinner with your best uncle is not one of them. Also, we have to talk strategy.”
“Brendon Urie is a god.”
I hijack his Bluetooth and play one of my favorite playlists. The one that starts with “Crazy=Genius.” You know, an oldie but a goodie.
He feigns indignation. “I never said you could…”
“I didn’t ask.”
Uncle Steve turns onto the highway, and I lay my head back and let the music take me somewhere else.
It’s not until we’ve ordered—eggplant parmigiana for Uncle Steve, pappardelle with mushroom marinara sauce and broccoli with garlic for me—that Uncle Steve gets to the point. “So, have you made a decision?”
“Still thinking.”
“Good. But these tests that are coming up? How do we feel about those?”
“Not great.” I hadn’t heard back from Brittany yet, and so I was sticking to my gut feelings about all of this.
“So you want to file the paperwork before them?”
I take a tiny bite of pasta. Chew. Swallow. Think. Regardless of when I time it, filling out the paperwork—and everything that will come after—will suck.
“Have you considered having a sit-down with them to talk to them honestly before filing emancipation paperwork?”
“Definitely,”