by J Grace
I spent the next fifteen minutes in a haze, moving on autopilot as I dressed and cleaned up, losing all the bravado and swagger I was packing when we were going at it. Fear and doubt crept its way back in and I was feeling overwhelmed by what I had done over the last twenty-four hours.
This isn't me. I don't know who that girl is, but it isn't me.
Shame and embarrassment for how I behaved paralyzed me. How could I ever look Avery in the face again? How could I not? I knew I shouldn’t be ashamed about what I’ve done or about how I behaved, how brazen and forward I was, but I couldn't stop thinking about what she was thinking. Do I really want to know? What if she thought it was a mistake? What if she...
“Hey, are you okay?” My thoughts were cut off by the worry in her tone. I felt sick. I was making myself sick.
“I don't know, I don't feel so good.” She sighed heavily and placed her hands on her hips.
“This is why I didn’t want to go that far. This always happens. You're feeling ashamed, right? Like what you did was wrong? Like you're a sinner?” I looked up at her, tears streaming down my face.
“No. No, it isn't that. It's just...the way I behaved. These last twenty-four hours….that isn’t me! I'm not that girl! I'm shy and awkward! I'm not forward like that. I was so brazen!” Spots filled my peripheral and bile rose in my throat, “I’m a slut just like my mom said I would be!” I cried.
“Woah, you're not a slut just because you went after what you wanted. And so what if that isn't you. Maybe it should be. You were strong, confident and assertive, and I gotta tell you, it was sexy as fuck!” I met her eyes, so full of confidence that a small bit of fear melted away.
“Really? You don't think it was too much?” She giggled, “Pinkie, I don't think there’s such thing as too much you! It was beautiful. You were beautiful. Please don't feel sad that it happened.” her eyes pleaded with mine.
“I won't. I promise.” I leaned forward to kiss her and she kissed me back. We were in the elevators on our way to our rooms when she leaned in.
“And don't worry. I won’t tell anyone, in case you’re worried about that too.” I hadn’t even thought about that until she said it, but I was grateful for her reassurance, “I know you have a thing for Zach...and Bodie and, though I can't for the life of me figure out why, Malcolm.”
“And you’re okay with that? With me having feelings for them too?”
“Yep. Look, I know you’re new to this whole thing and I also know that it’s easier for girls to practice with other girls so I get it. Besides, I’m not possessive, so I have no problem with sharing, and I know you’re not a lesbian,” she was rambling as though she was not alright with it and trying to justify why she should be, but the idea that she thought it was ‘practice’ was really hurtful.
“That’s not what this was Avery. I’m not practicing with you. I’m sorry if that’s how I’ve made you feel. I -”
“No, that isn’t at all what you made me feel. I didn’t explain it correctly. I’m so happy that you chose me. Much more than I know how to express. No one has ever chosen me, Marjorie and I guess, maybe, I’m trying to play it off or come across as calm and collected but really,” she stepped into me and cupped my face in her hands and in that moment I saw a glimpse of the real Avery. “I feel like I’m floating on a bubble and I’m so scared it’s going to pop.”
“I don’t want to hurt you Avery, but I can’t promise that you’re the only person I’ll ever be intimate with. I’m not saying that I’m going to go jump every person I see now, but…”
“I know that, and I don’t expect to be the only one, just...don’t forget about me?”
“I could never forget about you, Avery. You’re in here now,” I said, taking her hands from my face and lacing them with mine over my heart. She sighed and placed her forehead against mine.
“Thank you, Marjorie.”
“For what?”
“For knowing what I need and helping me through it.”
Chapter 18
Marjorie
Another two weeks had flown by and I was finally settled into a routine. Surprisingly, there was no awkwardness between me and Avery which I was grateful for. We hadn’t been intimate again, but we weren’t hiding our connection either. The others noticed, I’m sure, but they never said anything, which led me to believe that whatever it was that was happening between us all would work out.
I had done what Dr. Banner said and taken advantage of attending more group sessions, even running into Marigold a few times. She seemed to really be coming to terms with her situation and I enjoyed our conversations. It was nice to have a friend outside of my little family, even though she was starting to feel like family to me.
Since finishing my online classes I had a lot more free time which I spent watching movies, reading and writing. I thought about asking my floormates about their first family session but decided against it. It wouldn’t matter. Their parents weren’t like mine. Instead, I wrote in my journal about what I hoped to get out of the session that would benefit me. I wrote down questions and read them over and over again to burn them into my memory- even the ones I knew would go unanswered.
When I had run out of questions I decided to push it aside and focus on today because I was really loving my time here. I was becoming the person I had always wished I could be for Sierra: open and optimistic, excited to see what every new day brought me. It still pained me to think of her and all the moments we’ll never have, but it was different now. I no longer feared that I would break down or blackout. Now, I imagined her smiling down on me, happy that I was finding my place. She always said I would. I never believed her, but here I am. I just wish she was here to see it.
The night before my family visit Zachery went to a group session with me, but since there weren’t many residents there it ended early. Not wanting to go upstairs yet and still filled with nervous energy, I convinced Zachery to take a walk with me. We made our way to the Gazebo. It wasn’t like a regular gazebo though. It was in an octagonal shape and enclosed in glass with concrete benches along the sections. The outside was surrounded by flowers and another bench sat under a willow tree. I had never been there so I gasped when I saw it up close for the first time.
“Wow! This place is beautiful. I’ve never seen a gazebo like this before.”
“Well, you know why it looks like this right?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t look at all familiar to you?”
“No, should it?”
“Have you never seen the Sound of Music?”
“No, what’s that?”
“It’s a movie.” I gave him my best of course it is face and he continued. “Well, there’s a scene in the movie between a girl named Liesel, who is sixteen, and a boy named Rolf, who is seventeen. In the movie, they do a song and dance around in a gazebo that looks exactly like this.”
“How do you know that?”
“It was my mom’s favorite movie. We watched it every year. She thought it was a Christmas movie in the same way that people think Die Hard is a Christmas movie.” He took on a wistful yet pained expression at the mention of his mom and I ached for him.
“Will you sing it to me?” He blinked rapidly when he met my eyes, a crease forming between his brow.
“What? Did you just ask me to sing it to you?”
“Please?” He continued to stare at me before he dragged a hand over his face and agreed.
His voice was beautiful, soft yet strong, achingly tender. It lulled me into a false sense of ease because the next thing I knew we were dancing in the middle of the gazebo. When the song ended we came to a stop, but his hands remained on my waist.
“That was amazing, Zach. I never would have guessed you could sing so beautifully. Or dance so smoothly.” He smiled sweetly, but his eyes betrayed him, “Your mom’s influence again?” He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded.
“Yeah, she made me dance with her at this part in the movie.” I reached up to tou
ch his cheek and his eyes lifted from the floor to meet mine.
“If you want to talk about her Zach I’m always ready to listen. She seems like she was a wonderful mom.”
“She was. She was the best. She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”
“That wasn’t your fault Zach.”
“I know.”
“Do you? I mean, I know you know it wasn’t your fault, but do you believe that it wasn’t?”
“Do you? Do you believe that what your parents did to you wasn’t your fault?” His words stung, but he wasn’t wrong to question me.
“I’m starting to. And do you know why? Because of you. And Avery. And Malcolm. And Bodie. Every time you look at me or help me or tell me it’s okay, that I’m okay the way that I am, I believe a little bit more. It’s a wonderful feeling and I wish that you would let me do that for you.” I was crying, not caring about how I appeared in this moment because it wasn’t about me, it was about reaching this special boy and filling him with the hope that he gave me.
Determination and understanding crossed his features and in the next moment, his lips were on mine. I felt the pull in my gut that called for me to meet his kiss with my own so I did. It wasn’t as fevered or passionate as the kiss with Avery; it was sweet and gentle, just like him, and it was pure perfection.
There was a new connection forming between us, one that wasn’t built on tragedy but sincerity and hope. It was a magical kiss on a magical night with a magical boy and as we walked back to the facility, hand in hand, my heart was full.
The day of my family visit was upon me and I was already a nervous wreck. I woke up exhausted, having tossed and turned all night. Nurse Astrid had offered me a mild sedative, but I turned it down. I didn’t want to take any chances that it would still be in my system when they arrived and I needed to be sharp and aware for what was coming. In truth, I was never allowed to take any pain meds besides Tylenol, and even getting that was like pulling teeth from my mother. Most times she refused me that as well, so Sierra had snuck me a bottle to keep in my room. I had to change my hiding place every so often so my mother wouldn’t find it because I knew she was snooping and spying on me any chance she could get.
My parents were scheduled for a ten-thirty a.m. visit so I had just enough time to shower, dress, eat and overthink every little thing. I was afraid that I was going to have a panic attack before they ever got here. I had already thrown up what little breakfast I had eaten. To say I was nervous would be a gross understatement.
I was sitting in one of the family visitation rooms, twiddling my thumbs, sweating like a pig and on the verge of throwing up for the one-millionth time that morning when Dr. Banner walked in with my parents close behind her. I could immediately tell that they wanted to be anywhere but here, which set my nerves on fire. It had been a little over a month since they’d seen or spoken to me, and they were still angry with me?
What did you expect, Marjorie, a cake and balloons?
“Mr. and Mrs. Long, would you like to take a seat?” Dr. Banner asked, offering them the couch in front of me. My mother gave her a tight smile and nodded before sitting down on the side furthest from me. My father chose to stand behind her. Dr. Banner sat in the chair next to me. I could see her assessing my parents. “Marjorie and I want to thank you for agreeing to visit her today. Since this is the first visit I will be present the whole time, however I will be silent unless I deem it necessary to intervene. But before then I want to give you an update on Marjorie’s progress as I’m sure you’ll be very pleased.” I continued to watch my mother as Dr. Banner spoke about how well I was doing in such a short time, how I had made friends and really begun to blossom. I watched as the tightness in my mother’s mouth grew in intensity with each word of praise Dr. Banner gave me. She clutched her purse tightly and I was afraid it would burst from the pressure of her grip. When Dr. Banner was done my mother smiled, but I knew her words would be laced with venom.
“How wonderful. Isn’t that just remarkable Randall?” My father didn’t say a word, just nodded his head. “Does that mean Marjorie is ready to come home now?” I could hear the worry in her voice as she slowly asked the question. She didn’t want me to come home yet, if ever. Nor did I want to go home. Dr. Banner shifted slightly, obviously as aware as I was of the tension in my mother’s voice.
“No, Marjorie is definitely not ready to go home yet. She will still be here for the recommended six months at the very least.” My mother relaxed a bit, pleased with the answer.
“Oh, good,” she sighed, but then a look of oh, shit came across her face, “Uh, w-what I mean is, if she is doing so well, it would be a shame for her to stop now.” It was fascinating to see my mother squirm and I felt a bit of the fear subside. She was humbled by Dr. Banner’s mere presence. I didn't know humility was a trait my mother possessed.
“Of course, Mrs. Long. I can see that you want nothing but the best for Marjorie.” There was condescension in her voice and I loved it. It bolstered my confidence to see my mother being treated like she treated me. I knew my mother would never talk to another person the way she did me. “I didn’t want to bring this up as it’s supposed to be a surprise, but I was wondering if you had received my letters about the Graduation ceremony next week? I sent several invitations and have yet to receive an RSVP from you. Will you be attending?”
A what?
My mother’s face turned red at the implication that they had purposefully not RSVP’d.
Damn, Dr. Banner is killing it right now!
“Graduation is a big event in a young person’s life, as I’m sure you know, and it would be a shame if you missed it, especially since I know Marjorie would love to have you there to support her.”
“Of course we will be there, won’t we Muriel?” My father’s voice was harsh. He was not pleased with my mother. Most likely because she had made him look bad and not because he actually cared to be at the ceremony.
“Yes, we will be there,” her voice was a whisper of thinly veiled anger and humiliation.
“Excellent. That’s wonderful news. Now, in the month or so that Marjorie has been here she’s done a lot of soul searching and reflection of her life before her suicide attempt, and she’s come to some very clear conclusions about what led her down that path. Before I let her take over and discuss, do either of you have any ideas as to what might have prompted her suicide attempt? Were there any signs that you might have missed? Any out of character behaviors?” My mother shifted and steeled her spine.
“I know what you’re doing and it won’t work.” She looked from me to Dr. Banner.
“I assure you, Mrs. Long, that all I am doing is trying to facilitate an open dialogue about what signs you may have seen that could have prevented Marjorie from attempting to take her own life. If my question has brought up feelings of latent guilt, I’m sorry, but there is no need to be defensive. I am not accusing you of anything. Missing or ignoring signs is quite common. Hindsight is twenty-twenty Mrs. Long.”
“No. I didn’t notice anything out of character. Marjorie has always been a loner, even more so since that friend of hers died. She’s always been overly dramatic and takes every little thing that’s said to her out of context. We tried for many years to reach her, but everything we tried failed. We finally gave up and just let her be. It all proved to be more trouble than it was worth.”
“What methods did you try to reach her, as you put it?” My mother was losing her composure quickly.
“I don’t see why that matters as they obviously failed or we wouldn’t be here now!” Dr. Banner sighed and took a moment to compose herself as she too was losing her patience with my mother’s avoidance and blatant attempt to deflect any responsibility she might hold.
“Mrs. Long, I am not here to condemn you for what you did or didn’t do to help Marjorie. I am not here to place blame or guilt upon you, nor am I here to assuage you of any you might hold on yourself. I am here to help Marjorie and in order for me to do that, I n
eed to know what methods, if any, were utilized so that I do not waste her time on fruitless efforts. So, can you or can you not recall anything about what methods you used?” My mother was caught and she knew it. Still, she held firm.
“No, I can not. It was such a long time ago.”
Pride is a sin mother.
“Fine. Thank you so much for answering my questions to the best of your knowledge. I am now going to hand over the visit to Marjorie. Again, as I stated earlier I will remain in the room as a silent witness unless mediation is required.” With that, she stood and walked to the back of the room. Suddenly I felt so small.
I can do this! I am strong! I am brave! I am fearless!
“Mother, father, thank you for coming to visit me today. It’s true what Dr. Banner said, I have learned a lot about myself. Since I’ve been here I’ve become less anxious, less scared, less introverted. I’ve made friends, I’m having fun, and I’m working hard to better myself so that I can be a better person and daughter to you. I know that I embarrassed you and I feel horrible about that-” My mother snickered and I met the cold stare of her brown eyes.
“You feel horrible about that? How do you think we feel? People are gossiping behind our backs, making snide little comments everywhere we go. We’re like pariahs in a town where we were once pillars of the community. And why? Because you were selfish and weak. You thought nothing about what it would do to your father’s and my reputation.” I couldn’t believe she had tears in her eyes. FOR HERSELF! I felt the inferno of anger inside me boil over.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I shot up out of my seat, “I almost died and all you can think about is your reputations? You cry for yourself and how some strangers see you, and not because your daughter was so lost that she saw no other way to escape the constant and debilitating weight of fear and loneliness than to kill herself? And, yet, I’m the selfish one!”
