Connor sighed and then squeezed my hand. “Maybe Sage can just go home soon and be an outpatient nearby—just be a normal teenager and write angry posts on social media in order to get all that frustration out.”
“I think we’re well beyond that point,” I replied. It wasn’t easy spending hours trying to find good therapists that not only practiced near our home but also took my health insurance plan. And I knew my daughter. It didn’t matter how many books someone published or how many diplomas were mounted on their office wall. If Sage didn’t like the person, they were finished.
“Let’s try to be optimistic. If ever there was a place to receive treatment, this is probably it. It’s crazy to think this is even a hospital.” Connor’s eyes darted around the waiting area. “Did you see that piano in the lobby of the main house?”
I nodded. I had seen the piano, and calling it over-the-top would have been an understatement. Overtaken by a sudden chill, I folded my arms tightly against my chest and squeezed. My hands quickly rubbed back and forth, up and down the smooth curves of my rounded shoulders. Taking a deep breath, I then kneaded my tightened muscles, digging deeply into the rough ridges than ran in an intricate pattern over the arms of my sweater.
Connor sighed deeply, staring down into the palms of his hands. “I still don’t get how this happened,” he said quietly.
“Well, I think we both know the answer to that one.”
Our eyes met uncomfortably. To this day people from the old neighborhood—even friends—grew incredibly uneasy whenever the conversation gravitated toward my mother.“But wouldn’t Sage have shown signs… sooner?” Connor asked.
“Well, I think she did…” I paused for a few moments, not quite sure what to say. Then I continued, “I’ve read that some people don’t even show signs until adulthood. I should have recognized it, though. This should have never happened—her being here. I’m her mother… I just can’t… Connor, I just found her lying there on the floor like that… It was so cold.” My voice quivered, but my eyes felt so tired and raw. It felt as if there were no more tears to shed. Not for another lifetime.
Connor pulled my Afghan blanket slowly towards him and began to fold it carefully on his lap. He then turned his attention to the mess I had left and began to place each magazine neatly, one by one, back onto the coffee table. “I had a roommate at school that stopped taking his meds once. David—you must remember him. He insisted that he felt fine and was in a really good place… that he didn’t need them anymore.” Connor looked up from the coffee table and nodded towards the Christmas tree. “It’s beautiful,” he said.
“I know. Isn’t it something?”
“Well, you see,” he said, returning to his story, “we all tried to tell Dave, ‘Yeah, you feel great. You’re taking medication and going to therapy.’ But he didn’t listen. He spent the spring semester of his junior year between home and a place like this. Eventually, he came back. He finished—a little later than the rest of us, but he did it. He didn’t give up.”
“I think I remember that, now that you mention it. The thing is, it’s been getting harder with Sage in general,” I said. “She’s fifteen now. So now all of this is on top of just regular teenage melodrama.”
Connor whistled sharply, almost as if in pain thinking about it. “That’s rough, Lia. I don’t know how you manage. Remember what we were like back then? Especially Mike—he was a real piece of work.” Connor’s face suddenly hardened. “Maybe this is none of my business, but while we’re on the subject of difficult behavior, is he helping you at all? Aside from paying for all this?”
I felt my throat tighten.
“A little too much,” I said. “If it were up to Mike, she’d live with them in Westport. Apparently, my little two-bedroom apartment sitting on top of a bakery isn’t good enough anymore. You’d think he would’ve thought about that before he left us. God, Connor, he spoils her, and you can forget about any form of discipline. It’s all out of guilt I think—I don’t know—but he gets worse every year. It just drives me crazy, because sometimes it feels like he’s completely trying to undermine me and my choices as a parent. Did Sage tell you? She failed biology this past report card. And, you know, Mike just wanted to cheer her up a little bit, so he bought her a guitar.”
“Like an electric…”
“It cost over twenty-five hundred dollars.”
“Wow.”
“And there was a five-hundred-dollar amp to go along with it.”
“I see.” Connor paused, seeming to think about it for a while. “Back when we were kids, presents were usually associated with passing a class, not failing it.”
“Exactly! We live in an apartment. We have neighbors. She’s not even taking lessons; this thing sits there in her room. Mike had to get her something completely insane and expensive—just to prove a point.”
“He isn’t trying to give you trouble again, is he?”
“Not yet. I will kill him if he even thinks of turning this into a charge against me. She is not living with Abigail. That woman is not her mother.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m more than aware of what Abigail’s like. This is exactly why you need to move forward.”
“I don’t see the connection,” I said flatly, folding my arms across my chest. I’d had Sage when I was barely twenty-two. I married my childhood love. I didn’t know anything else, and I hated whenever anyone tried to bring up the topic.
“You’re doing great—don’t get me wrong. But I feel like it might be nice for you to have someone, even if it’s just someone to talk with. I don’t know. It’s been a few years now, but I still can’t even believe we’re having this conversation.”
I sighed. Connor had probably thought Mike and I would last forever, and in my own crazy way, I had, too. “Well, I really don’t think he has a lawyer on standby. Even if he was up to something, the courts usually take the mother’s side.”
“Usually. Unless there’s money,” Connor said.
Money. Abigail’s family certainly had plenty of it.
“I don’t know. I don’t think he’ll try anything. And the relationship stuff? Connor, I’m done. I’ve learned to accept what happened a long time ago. It’s not a big deal. We just grew apart, and if he’s in a better place, so be it.”
“I highly doubt Mike is in a better place… I’ve known him for way too long. Mike never settles in one place. But perhaps that’s a conversation for another time. Anyway, none of this seems that simple from where I’m standing. And by the way, you’re never done when it comes to love. None of us are. You should see my dad. He’s moved on.”
Connor’s mom had passed several years ago unexpectedly. She had always seemed so healthy, vibrant, and constantly ready for whatever new adventure life sent her way. She followed a strict diet and ran every morning. But then one day she simply didn’t wake up. Her heart had stopped while she slept. None of it seemed to make sense to any of us at the time, and I think it took us all a while to realize that it didn’t have to.
“Well, that’s good,” I replied.
“He’s completely forgotten how to be a parent. My step-brother… the stuff that comes out of this kid’s mouth, Julia. He’s five. Dad and Wendy don’t care. Wendy’s all, ‘Tristan was having a bad day.’ Mom wouldn’t have put up with a single minute of it. Now kids are all, ‘I am playing on my cell phone now. You need to leave.’”
“Kids are kids. They’re not all fresh.” I pointed to myself. “Believe me; I’m a teacher. I know. But I see what you’re saying, and I worry. Mike loves Sage as much as the twins, and he’s too afraid to ever say no to her. I try to set limits, so I’m the one who is always the bad guy by default. The result is always in his favor.” I shook my head in confusion. “When did everything change, Connor?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe… maybe something needs to change within me. I know I don’t socialize enough with any of the parents at Sage’s school, or in general. But there must be someone who can,
I don’t know, help me to better connect with her. I’m so nervous about reaching out to anyone at her school, though. I feel like I’ll accidentally offend someone by bringing peanut butter or gluten to a kid’s birthday party.”
“Sage is fifteen—going on thirty-five, mind you—so I highly doubt peanut butter will be your main concern at any party she’d attend. Julia, you seriously need to stop worrying so much. You’re practically a genius. You’ll figure it out.”
“Maybe I’m making a bigger deal out of it than it needs to be,” I thought aloud. At least Sage was too old to want one of those plastic ball pits for her birthday. The image of it alone made me shudder. It always seemed that no matter what we did as parents, it was never enough. When Sage was eight, I had volunteered to help chaperone a class trip to the aquarium. Sage’s teacher had mistakenly put me in charge of bringing grapes as a snack for all the children, and I hadn’t realized they were supposed to be cut in half. All the other chaperones had stared at me afterward in absolute horror.
Connor smirked. “But then again, what do I know? I’m just a finance guy who stands for nothing. NYC college kids are probably in Washington Square Park right now protesting me.”
I smiled genuinely at the thought of such a thing. “Those kids would never protest you if they got the chance to know you,” I reassured him.
“That just sounded old.”
“Well, Sage loves you, and she’s young and very much her own person. She’s also smart. Perhaps too smart for her own good.” I took another sip of coffee. “She looks so much like her dad, doesn’t she?”
“I don’t know,” Connor warmly objected, “I see a lot of you in her.”
“Well, thank you.” I thought about it for a moment. “Sage is awfully sensitive, too. You know, it even broke her heart that she had to leave Owen and Henry back at our apartment.”
“Owen and who?”
“Owen and Henry. Her gerbils,” I explained.
“Oh, so we’re gerbil people now. Is that like having a pet chipmunk?”
“It’s very similar.” I glanced up quickly and motioned toward the clock on the wall. It was time for the next round of visiting hours.
Connor stood up and held his hand out towards me. “She’s going to make it through this. You have to realize that. I know it may not necessarily seem like that now, but Sage is strong. Very strong. Just you watch her pull through,” he promised.
“I want so much for you to be right about this one.”
There were so many choices I had made, so many situations I had found myself in, where I had felt absolutely confident about the outcome. With this, there was so much uncertainty. But despite my insecurity, my uneasiness over the impending unknown, I realized that I had no choice but to confront these fears head-on. I would be brave, strong, and resilient. I took Connor’s hand into my own and squeezed it gently, ready. For the very first time in days, I felt my lips form into a small but nonetheless genuine smile.
And it felt good to do so, even if it happened in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter 2
Sojourn
Julia
“You really wouldn’t know it if you looked at her. She’s not super-skinny or anything, just incredibly thin. Oh, and very pretty. But, yeah, she was here—just like the rest of us,” Sage said.
Connor and I sat on the empty bed across from Sage. Her roommate, Charlotte, had been discharged that very morning. With cream painted walls, a freshly stained pine hardwood floor, and a bed made up in fine linens; her bedroom was far more beautiful than anything I had had growing up. Curtains made from a soft white fabric delicately framed the windows and her view was more reminiscent of a quaint country bed and breakfast landscape than that of a rehabilitation facility. I stared quietly outside for several moments in silence and watched as just a light scattering of gentle snow fell gracefully from the dark night sky.
She sat perfectly upright in her bed, like a pin, knees up, hugging her legs tightly against her chest. Her oversized t-shirt enveloped almost her entire body, and just the bottom trim of her fleece pajama pants peeked out at me. They were sky blue with little dancing white clouds. I could see that her feet were snuggled in the same navy and white fuzzy socks I had bought her nearly two winters ago, and every so often, she would pick tiny wayward balls of wool off them, then flick the pilling to the side.
My daughter’s thick brown hair, which usually fell in mermaid waves down her slight shoulders, was tucked atop her head in a messy bun held by a single black elastic. Just two or three loose spirally strands framed her face. Sage looked incredibly small sitting in that room, tinier than usual, but perhaps that was just the gravity of her situation shaping my perspective.
“And Charlotte, she’s better now?” Connor asked. “They said she’s ready to go?”
Sage shrugged indifferently. “I guess. I mean, I didn’t really get a chance to know Charlotte that well. I know she’s a freshman at some women’s college, but they still kept her in this wing with us instead of the grown-ups. I think she has a history here or whatever. Anyway, Charlotte seemed to be eating normally again, at least to me.”
I could only imagine how Charlotte’s parents must have felt, what it must have been like to watch her slowly wither away. What can you even do for someone that frail, that emaciated, when all she sees whenever she looks at a mirror is a growing monster?
“She didn’t do… any of that… here, did she?” I asked, feeling sick to my stomach. I couldn’t even bring myself to talk about it in specific detail.
“No. Believe me, I snooped around to make sure. Whatever Charlotte ate stayed put, as it should.”
The room grew uncomfortably still.
“At least she’s okay,” Sage continued. “Last night, there was a new admit. They had to practically carry her inside. She was screaming all sorts of crazy things at the staff. It was pretty intense. Then her mom came in and started screaming at her. Her mom was all: ‘You need to stop this… The longer you carry on like this, the longer they’re going to keep you here!’ Meanwhile, there’s this young doctor—I guess he’s new—and he was trying to ask the girl if she knew where she was, who the president was, right smack in the middle of all this. Then the nurses were trying to deal with the mom and her outburst… We were all staring at the both of them. Like, no one knew what to do. They basically ended up telling the mom to leave.”
Sage’s voice then lowered and grew heavy with unmistakable sadness. “I don’t know where they ended up putting the girl for the night, but I saw her wandering around this morning, and she was pretty zoned out. They even had to take away her shoelaces, just like they did with me.”
“That’s terrible,” I said softly. And it indeed was — every single part of it.
“But group therapy is okay.” Her tone quickly perked up. “I mean, I didn’t think I would like it because it was a little weird at first. But some of the girls here aren’t so bad. One of them even knows Katie. They went to the same cheerleading camp over the summer. But, truthfully, some of these kids are just looking for attention.”
“That’s not very nice to say.” I frowned. Sometimes Sage could be a little judgmental, especially when caught up in one of her darker moods.
“Oh, Mom, whatever. It’s true!” She waved her hand to the side in dismissal. “They whine about nothing. They’re spoiled.”
I raised my eyebrow at the irony of her statement. That was rich coming from her, but I let her comment go. “Your father and I are supposed to meet with Dr. Warner again soon,” I said. “I spoke to her a bit over the phone the other day, but it was difficult to follow everything she said. What do you think of her?”
“She’s good. I like her.”
“Well, that’s important,” Connor offered.
“Because if you don’t like her, we’ll find someone else,” I added. It all made me a little nervous. The last thing I wanted was for Sage to eventually forgo treatment if she decided that her doctor was a complete dud.<
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“No, really, Mom. She’s fine. Believe me; I’d let you know if she wasn’t. You seriously need to stop.” Sage stretched her legs out in front of her and then became very quiet—still and seemingly lost in her deep thoughts. But then, just as abruptly, she turned to me and asked: “Can I go home now?”
I knew the question would inevitably come, but to ask so soon? That was a bit impulsive, even by her standards. “Sage,” I began patiently, “that all depends on what Dr. Warner and her staff think—on how you feel. It’ll depend on whether you’re ready to leave, truly ready, not the ‘fair weather report,’ as your Grandpa Thomas would say.”
Sage huffed in protest, rolling her eyes just a tad bit overdramatically. “What does that saying even mean? There’s no reason for me to be here anymore. I’m not crazy now. They were asking me all these questions about whether I knew who I was. It was just like with that girl who was flipping out all over the place. They’re all, ‘Where are you? Who were the last three presidents?’ That is such a stupid question, by the way. What if someone has zero interest in politics and doesn’t know or remember? They won’t be able to answer it!”
“Sage…” I tried unsuccessfully to interject.
“Mom! I’m not crazy anymore. I’m just sick of the stupid questions, and I just want to go home and get out of this stupid place. Now!” She was starting to go overboard. I could sense her storm coming as her voice rose angrily, and her arms flailed about aimlessly.
“Well, it doesn’t work that way.” I felt my voice steadily rising. “You can’t just do what you did and then decide: ‘Okay, bored now.’ This is serious, Sage. Do you understand? They’re saying bipolar I, with possible psychotic fea—”
Painting Sage Page 2
