“It’s kind of strange, but I think of things as Before and After,” I said at last.
“Before and after the Floraes?”
“Yeah, but now . . . this is something completely different. New Hope, I mean. It’s like the After is out there, in the unprotected world. New Hope isn’t Before or After. . . . I don’t know what it is.”
“Maybe New Hope is the now,” he offered.
I smiled. “That sounds like another crappy slogan.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to help. . . . Do you spend a lot of time thinking about Before?” His voice was full of concern.
“Not really, I think it’s better not to. When I lost everything, everybody, it was so surreal. It was a long time until the After felt like reality. By then I’d already accepted that my parents were gone and my friends were dead.”
We sat in silence. I tilted my head and rested it on his shoulder. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed. We stayed like this for a while. I needed, at that moment, to feel support—a physical touch that could make me feel this was real.
“You can always speak with someone about it,” he said, breaking the silence. “We have trained psychiatrists available for anyone who needs them. Therapy is encouraged here. It could help, you know, instead of keeping it all bottled up inside.”
“Sorrow concealed . . . ,” I whispered.
“Like an oven stopp’d, Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.” Rice finished the quote. I picked my head up off his shoulder and looked at him, astounded.
“What? I can’t know my Shakespeare?” he asked with a little smile. “I’m not just a bio-geek. . . . I’m an everything geek,” he admitted.
I sat with my back against the couch, content to be there with Rice. I wished I could stay forever, in the quiet.
“I think I need to rest,” I told him. “Would you mind letting us get some sleep?”
“Sure. I know it’s been a long morning.”
That was an understatement. It was only yesterday that Baby and I were taken from the lakefront, only yesterday I was reunited with my mother, only yesterday I discovered there were nearly four thousand more people in this world than I dared hope.
It wasn’t yesterday; it was a lifetime ago.
• • •
“Are you doing okay in here, Amy?” a voice asks.
I smile, my eyes half closed. Why wouldn’t I be okay? Everything here is so peaceful.
“Do you recognize me?” The boy inserts himself in front of me, blocking my view of the trees. I try to focus on him. He has shaggy, blond hair and glasses. He looks smart. Is he one of the doctors who take care of me? He seems too young to be a doctor or a nurse.
“You’re . . . a friend?” I ask, unsure.
“Yes, I’m a . . . friend.”
He is frowning, so I reach out and place my hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. They’ll make you better here. That’s what they do.” I try to reassure him.
He pulls away from me, still frowning. “Oh, Amy, I am so sorry.”
I shake my head. I don’t understand what he would be sorry for.
Then he leans in and whispers softly, “I’m going to get you out of here. I promise.”
My mother’s face flashes in my mind. I want to see her and Baby. Why am I here and not with them? “Maybe you should talk to my mother,” I say loudly. “She’s the director, you know. She can help you get me home,” I tell him excitedly. The boy looks horrified and backs away.
“What’s going on here?” A nurse comes over to check on us.
The boy’s expression turns cool. “It’s okay. Ms. Harris was just a bit agitated,” he tells the nurse calmly. He takes off his glasses and cleans the lenses with his lab coat. “She was asking for her mother.”
“Should I inform Dr. Thorpe?” the nurse asks, uncertain.
“No, I’ll let Dr. Reynolds know,” the boy tells her with finality. After she leaves, the boy leans in again. I think he is going to kiss me on the cheek but instead when his lips brush my skin, he whispers so low I almost do not hear him. “Watch for Kay.” He pulls back and looks in my eyes. There is kindness in his.
Kay. The name is so familiar. There is a glimmer of recollection before it slips away. He squeezes my hand as I stare out the window and watch the trees tremble in the breeze. As the boy starts to leave, I yell after him, “You should definitely talk to my mother. She would want to help me.”
But something is nagging at the back of my mind and I’m not so sure. A wave of fear washes over me. Why hasn’t my mother come for me? Where is she?
• • •
“I came as soon as I heard,” my mother said the minute she walked in. “Are you okay?” She sat next to me on the couch, hugging me, then Baby.
“I’m fine. Baby dropped a glass and freaked out because of the noisy cafeteria.” I patted Baby’s shoulder. “Then I super freaked out,” I admitted.
“You’re still getting used to things here. It’s only been a day.” She twirled her fingers through my short hair. “I shouldn’t have left you alone so soon.”
“It’s okay.” I didn’t mention that we’d gotten along fine the past few years without her. “Rice is really nice. He was a good tour guide.”
“Tonight it will be just us girls.” She smiled at us. There was a knock at the door and she corrected herself. “I mean, just us girls and Adam.”
My mother went to the door and collected a toddler from a woman wearing purple. “Thank you, Stephanie,” she said, shutting the door and carrying the little boy into the living room. “Come meet your brother, Amy.” She carefully placed Adam on the floor and watched me expectantly, waiting.
“Oh, okay.” I sat on the floor and smiled faintly at my mother. I took a deep breath.
“Adam, say hello,” my mother prompted.
“Hello, Amy,” he said loudly, his voice surprisingly husky for a child.
“Hello, Adam.” I watched as his chubby hands grabbed a teddy bear and then ran it over with the toy truck. “I’m your sister.”
“I know. Mommy shows me your picture.” He looked up at me. “You’re pretty.”
I relaxed a little and smiled, amused. “Thank you.”
He stood jerkily and fell toward me. He landed against my chest and I could feel his breath on my cheek. He put his arms around my neck and rested his head on my shoulder.
I couldn’t help it. In one clumsy motion, the little boy had inserted himself into my heart.
That evening we talked and watched old movies and ate homemade snacks. It almost felt like Before, except my mother never did any of those things with me Before. She was always working. I half expected her to head back to the lab. She did whip out her computer during one of the movies and occasionally took calls on her earpiece, but mostly she was all mine. Baby loved “girls’ night,” and played trucks with Adam happily.
Rice stopped by at one point to drop off the shoes that Baby left in the cafeteria. She took them and beamed at him happily. Thank you.
“What about for Amy?” my mother asked him. “She told me the shoes I picked out for her were too small.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you for some normal clothes.” I tugged at my red jumpsuit. “Rice explained the color-coded thing was only for kids younger than seventeen.”
“Honey, what are you talking about? Your birthday isn’t until August.”
I paused. Could I be wrong? I never really kept careful track of time in the After; I was only vaguely aware of the passage of seasons.
“What month is it?” I was afraid to ask.
“It’s May,” Rice informed me, his voice kind.
“So, that means . . .”
“You’re sixteen.” My mother said gently. “You have four more months before you class out. Then you’ll be assigned a job.”
“Oh.” I paused. Everything in New Hope was wrong. “Can I study whatever I want?” I blurted, sounding desperate. I wanted to go back to the subjects I loved. I wanted to feel normal a
gain.
“Not exactly. I know you were always good at English and you love literature. You can study those subjects, but you’ll still have to take basic medicine and everyday science, unless you qualify for advanced study.” She smiled. “I know it’s confusing, but we have a whole system worked out. If you’re put in advanced study you’re exempt, which means you don’t have to take a part-time job.”
“And if I don’t qualify?” I asked.
“Then you’re nonexempt and you’ll have to go on work rotation,” my mother explained. “An assignment will be made for you, but you can request something you’d prefer, like working at the library or maybe helping with the small children.”
I could live with that. I liked to learn and I wasn’t afraid of work. “Maybe I can help with the new post-aps that you all bring in.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know I didn’t have a very good experience. I mean, you stick some crazy survivors in a room and throw someone young like Rice into the mix. Did you think that was a good idea?” I was still traumatized from yesterday, from everything. I turned to Rice. “No offense.”
“That isn’t common practice, Amy.” My mother smiled tightly. I knew that smile. It was her “things are not going according to plan” smile. I often got that smile Before. “It would be good to get your input about your experience, though. It’s not a bad idea to change procedures that aren’t working.”
She looked at Rice and continued, “Maybe Amy can have a special orientation sometime. That way she can understand the social system we’ve worked out for New Hope.”
Rice nodded.
She turned back to me. “Richard can take you one day. I wish I had the time.”
I felt my heart surge a little, the old resentment setting in: my mother the workaholic. “I know you’re busy, Mom. I get how it is. Dad always . . .” I stopped myself. My mother’s pose shifted, suddenly stiff. I knew it was hard for her to hear me talk about my father. She retreated to the kitchen quietly.
Rice turned back to the front door and I thanked him before he went. “Baby really enjoyed our tour earlier.” I paused. “So did I.”
He looked at me, his blue eyes shining behind his glasses. “I’m glad I could help,” he said. “It was nice to meet you, again. You know, without the weapon.”
Suddenly I didn’t want him to leave. He was a friend—a comfort—in an unfamiliar place. Instead of shaking his hand, I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him.
“Thank you,” I whispered in his ear. When I released him, he was beet red. He mumbled something incoherent and stumbled out the door.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When I’m not sleeping, or staring out the window in the common room, I spend a lot of my time watching old Disney movies. Everyone enjoys the cartoons, so there are always other people here, around me, but I don’t pay attention to them. They sit quietly, watching contentedly, and I do the same.
One day I am deep into Snow White when I hear someone repeating my name. I turn from the television. My mother is sitting in the chair next to me. I hadn’t even noticed she’d arrived.
“Hi, Mom.”
She smoothes my hair, petting my head. There are tears in her eyes. I don’t understand why she is so upset.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I came as soon as they said you were stable. You had a dissociative mental break.” She glances around the room and lowers her voice. “I didn’t tell him what you learned about the Floraes.”
“What about them?” I ask. Something pulls at my mind and I feel like I should understand her, but I don’t know what she’s talking about.
My mother stares at me. “It’s . . . it’s nothing. I just wanted to let you know that I love you.” She hugs me.
“I love you too, Mom.” I turn back to the cartoon.
“It might not seem like it, but you’re getting well here. You’re getting the help you need.” She takes my hand.
“I know,” I tell her.
“Dr. Reynolds sounds very positive about your recovery.” Her voice quavers and she sniffles loudly.
At the mention of Dr. Reynolds, I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I try to ignore it. “That’s nice,” I say uncomfortably.
She lets go of my hand and kisses my forehead. I don’t know how long she stays by my side, but when I think to look again, she’s gone.
• • •
It’s Baby who elbowed me awake in the morning. My nightmare was still fresh in my mind: the Florae had Baby and she was terrified, screaming. I shook the fear from my mind as I felt for Baby’s hand and signed, What? still half asleep.
Mom is talking really loudly.
I listened, but couldn’t hear anything. So?
She’s saying your name. I know it in loud speak. Maybe she needs you.
I sat up quickly and silently walked to the bedroom door. Putting my ear to the crack I could just barely make out my mother’s muffled voice.
“But Amy has already gone through intake. . . .” She paused, listening. “Yes, I know, but I don’t think she requires a full psyche-eval. . . . It just seems unnecessary.” She sounded exasperated. “Yes, of course I understand there are no exceptions, even if it is a waste of time.” There was another long pause. “I’ll have them there at eight.”
My mother was quiet, shuffling papers, when I pushed open the door.
“Oh hi, honey.” She hastily shoved her papers into her computer bag. “You doing okay?”
“I’m good. Better,” I told her. “Still in shock,” I added honestly.
She patted the empty spot next to her on the couch and wrapped her arms around me when I sat down.
“It’s okay for you to feel disoriented,” she assured me. “But it’s important for you to know that everything will soon seem routine.” She pulled back, then, and gave me a hard look. “You do know that, don’t you, Amy? You’ll fit in here just fine. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”
“I don’t think I understand what normal is anymore.”
My mother frowned, considering. “You should remain optimistic, especially when you speak to others about New Hope. . . .”
“Is this about the psyche-eval?” I asked. “I overheard you talking about it just now.”
“Honey, you’ll do fine on your psyche-eval,” she said brightly, but I sensed something else in her voice . . . anxiety? My mother was never anxious. “It’s just that you’ve had to deal with so much hardship over the years . . . you may have forgotten that things can be pleasant. Not everything left in this world is horrific.”
“I know that, Mom.” Even the After wasn’t all bad. I had Baby, a home, a life of sorts.
“Good. So during your psyche-eval, when you speak with Dr. Reynolds, just make sure you let him know that you feel hopeful, that you’re ready to move forward.”
“I will,” I promised, although I didn’t exactly feel hopeful or optimistic. I felt heavy, like New Hope was weighing me down. My mother was looking at me expectantly, so I smiled reassuringly, which seemed to satisfy her.
I wished it were that easy to shake my dark dread.
• • •
I hear Dr. Thorpe talk sometimes, about me and others. I kneel quietly next to my door while she’s in the hallway. I don’t think she realizes I’m there, or maybe she thinks that I can’t hear her.
The medicine hasn’t been making me as muddled lately and memories are starting to come back to me. I know I shouldn’t be in this place. I wonder how Baby is doing without me. I want to see her. I wish I could talk to her or to my mother.
I back away from the door as I hear Dr. Thorpe come closer. I sit on the bed and wait for her to enter with my food and medication. She pushes open the door and carries in my tray, placing it on the counter. As soon as her hand is free, she puts it to her earpiece.
“Ms. Harris is reacting well to her treatment,” Dr. Thorpe says, not bothering to look at me. She talks as if she is making a recording. “Her mood ha
s stabilized, as has her erratic, violent behavior.”
What is she talking about? She can’t mean me. I’ve never been violent.
“The paranoid delusions that Ms. Harris was experiencing have completely disappeared, thanks to the antipsychotics prescribed by Dr. Reynolds and the antidepressants I prescribed. Ms. Harris has also been given a high dosage of the sedative ketamine and seems to be at a comfortable level of . . .”
“Excuse me, Dr. Thorpe . . .”
Dr. Thorpe pauses, looks at me as though I’ve suddenly appeared.
“Yes, Amy. What is it?”
“Who are you speaking to?”
She considers me. “I’m taking oral notes for the other doctors to consult.”
“You said I was reacting well to my treatment. If I’m showing improvement, can I go home?”
Her face becomes pinched and her body tenses. She doesn’t expect me to ask questions. “You haven’t fully recovered yet,” she tells me, her voice strained. “You can’t leave until Dr. Reynolds approves your release.”
I smile uncertainly. “Will that be soon . . . since I’m getting better?” I remember when the boy came to visit he said he would help me, or was that just a dream? He said to watch for someone. Kay. I keep thinking of her, but can’t remember who she is.
“We’ll have to wait and see what Dr. Reynolds thinks.” Dr. Thorpe turns and continues to talk into her earpiece while I watch.
I’ll get out of the Ward, no matter what Dr. Reynolds decides.
• • •
“I’m Dr. Reynolds.” The pale man offered a hand from his overstuffed chair. His smile seemed genuine, but his dark eyes were sharp, searching.
“I know,” I said, shaking his hand. His grip was too tight and I shivered. “My mother speaks very highly of you.” I sat across a coffee table from him in an identical chair. I looked around the sparse room, taking in the bookshelves, a desk. I couldn’t help but glance at the door. Baby was sitting in the waiting room while I had my psyche-eval. I wondered if she’d be okay, if she needed anything.
“Are you nervous?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
“It’s just . . . Baby isn’t used to being without me.” I looked at him fully for the first time. He was average height, normal weight, though his flesh seemed to hang loosely on his frame, giving him a strange, sickly look, like he had only just recently lost a lot of weight. His head was shaved clean. At least he didn’t go the comb-over route. The thought made me smirk.
In the After Page 13
