Love Rewards The Brave

by Monroe, Anya

  He flinches at those words and

  pulls his hand from mine

  and those blurry tears appear and suddenly

  define

  the moment for me us.

  Unclear.

  “No, Lou-Lou, we’re not.”

  His head is still turned from mine

  and I can’t see his face,

  but I can recount

  the times Benji has said no to me.

  Not once.

  93.

  I’m a wreck

  walking out of the hospital room

  and find Ms. Francine

  waiting

  for me.

  Patiently

  always here for me.

  She’s knitting me gloves

  to match my scarf.

  She opens her arms

  and even though I think I don’t want it,

  I let her wrap her arms around me

  anyway.

  Suddenly, those feelings of

  unclear

  are swept away.

  And nothing feels gray.

  Everything suddenly

  feels very

  black and white

  and that is

  terrifying.

  I want

  familiar.

  She’s been sitting ready

  steady, feeling heavy

  on this still same chair

  waiting for me before she goes

  anywhere.

  I am to

  Benji

  what she is to

  me.

  There for me.

  Taking care of me.

  Wanting the best for me.

  And I give into

  her hug

  I don’t turn away

  or hide my face away

  or pretend to look away-

  I stay.

  It makes me think that maybe

  it’s what I wanted

  all along.

  Maybe it’s exactly

  where I belong.

  And once again, I feel sick inside

  disgusting inside

  just want to hide

  because giving into her

  kindness

  is giving into

  blindness.

  Because now I am walking into the

  black

  and

  white.

  94.

  The office is cold.

  It’s a week before Christmas

  been working at the 6-Spot. Sold

  at least a million records.

  Everyone saying they want to be

  a deejay.

  Or something equally exciting

  as they browse the displays.

  I’m doing okay there.

  But here-

  in Terry’s office

  I’m forced to sit and listen

  about the situation that’s arisen

  with Benji.

  “So, you went to the hospital with Ms. Francine. Can you tell me how that felt for you?”

  I’ve spent the last several

  days

  regretting the

  ways

  I’ve allowed Ms. F in.

  I let her in when I was down

  like a little girl lost

  now found

  and I don’t want to go there again.

  Especially, not with Terry.

  “I can imagine it was very scary, Louisa. As your counselor, I want to talk to you about what happened to Benji and how that’s going to affect him for the next few years.”

  I close my eyes.

  Count 1, 2, 3.

  I don’t want to do this.

  I will just agree

  to everything she says

  so I can go.

  I open my eyes.

  “Benji attempted suicide, Louisa, and was nearly successful. If he hadn’t been found in the bathroom when he was, he wouldn’t have survived his injuries.”

  “So injury- that means someone did this to him?”

  “No, he did this to himself. Your brother is very confused and conflicted.”

  “I think it’s a mistake. It had to be an accident. Benji wouldn’t do that, not on purpose.”

  “Louisa, I know trying to believe it was an accident makes it seem less scary, but he did do this to himself. On purpose. He even left a note, for you.”

  “No.”

  “No what, Louisa?”

  “No, you’re wrong. You’re wrong about Benji. You don’t know him like I do. He would never hurt anything on purpose.”

  That still strange voice

  is rising again

  finding me again

  crawling out again.

  I want to push it in

  deep in my skin.

  “You’re right, I don’t know Benji like you do. But I do know that this has happened. And you need to understand that, Louisa, so you can move forward.”

  “Forward? To where? To what? So I can keep coming here to you and talk about the fact that I have nothing if I don’t have Benji?”

  “No one is taking Benji away from you, Louisa.”

  “You’re right, Terry, he’s the one trying to get away from me!”

  That voice found a way out and

  I’m shaking

  as I’m awaking

  to the truth.

  “Louisa, would you like his letter? It was written to you.”

  95.

  She hands it to me

  to read

  so I can understand things

  more plainly.

  The letters are scrawled in his

  crooked slant way.

  The way I spent afternoons

  attempting to correct

  same old me

  trying to perfect.

  Because if things are done perfectly

  or as good as can be

  then maybe I won’t be used for Dad’s negativity.

  The page looks crumbled up

  then smoothed again

  trying to pretend it’s

  something it’s not.

  “Lou-Lou,

  Remember when we were little and we’d lie in your bed together, looking at the night? You always said the sky made sense because it was all black sky and all white stars, nothing was confusing outside out window. Nothing was gray like inside our house.

  You taught me everything I know. You taught me to count and to tie my shoes. You made sure I had clothes to wear. You would put me on the kitchen counter and put Band-Aids on the places that were hurt and even though we both knew no Band-Aid was big enough for our kind of broken, but you still tried.

  I can’t try like that, like you. It’s too hard.

  I want things to be black like the sky and white like the stars and I know you, more then anyone on earth, can understand that.

  I love you, Lou-Lou, you and only you.

  Benji

  I fold it up.

  Smaller and smaller still

  until it is in the palm of my hand

  I can’t look up, don’t know if I ever will.

  “So what happens now? Is he going back to the group home?”

  My voice

  retreats again

  concedes again

  coming back in-

  side.

  “No, Louisa. He can’t go back there in the state of duress he’s under. He’s been transferred to a long-term Inpatient Program. His multiple diagnoses make him an ideal candidate for this kind of treatment.”

  “What do you mean? Multiple diagnoses?”

  My voice is a whisper

  attempting to transfer

  my fear

  to Terry.

  “Benji has been seeing a lot of doctors this past year since entering the group home. It hasn’t been going well. You have seen glimpses of this on your visits with him. How he throws things, runs away, steals. Not to mention the anti-social behavior at school.”

  “So because he ran away once and got mad you’r
e sending him to a mental hospital?”

  It doesn’t add up.

  Why won’t she fess up and

  explain what

  is really going on.

  “Louisa, there are a lot of doctors still trying to help Benji. The pieces you see at visits are just a small snapshot of the big picture for Benji. He’s experiencing severe post-traumatic stress, just like you, but he expresses it in a much different way. He requires constant supervision, at least for now.”

  “So what does that mean for me? For my mom? I thought we were all going to be a family again.”

  I feel the chill

  of my will-

  power being stripped from me

  as I say those words out loud

  no longer bound

  inside.

  “You and your mom are still on the path of reunification, but Benji is not going to be a part of that plan.”

  96.

  Her words echo deep down.

  I’ve been walking around

  the last few days knowing that

  possibility

  the gravity

  of the situation.

  But wanting to believe best case

  scenario.

  For Benji. For me.

  For our fucked up semblance of a family.

  But Terry’s told me straight up

  that ain’t gonna happen.

  Like, ever.

  Like, never.

  Life with my mom will be

  better than nothing,

  but it’s just not what I planned.

  Planned for the past two years

  since I was

  put in a system

  I didn’t understand.

  And Benji?

  What about that little boy in all of this?

  Doesn’t anyone think that him

  being with me

  the one who loves

  him would do anything for him

  has got to be better somehow

  than a hospital bed and gown?

  That I can provide the things that he needs

  hope and love and a reminder to brush his teeth?

  It’s what I always did

  and I still want to do it

  and taking that from me

  hurts the most

  and taking that from him

  hurts the most

  of

  all.

  And it just feels like the people

  in charge are not thinking

  of the

  two kids

  in the middle of a mess

  a man created

  a long, long time ago

  before we ever could know

  what was really happening

  and now that we do

  our choices are few.

  Benji: Committed

  Louisa: Admitted-

  ly

  lost and confused.

  97.

  Toby gives me a stack of paper towels

  Windex and a kiss on the cheek.

  Fingerprints streak the window

  and the scene outside is just as bleak.

  The snow-white wash is now dirty slush

  and everyone who comes through the door

  is a hurried mush.

  Two days till Christmas.

  At least the record store avoids

  obnoxious jingle bell songs

  opting instead for hipster

  Indie bands rocking along.

  I can deal. with. that.

  Just as I finish washing the doors,

  Jess appears.

  She’s perfectly dressed for a blizzard in

  a Dr. Seuss book.

  Neon pink cap and

  coat to match.

  “What’s up?” I ask, knowing she’s probably ready to freak out on me.

  I’ve been avoiding all texts, emails, and

  pokes.

  Pretending that work is keeping me too busy

  to joke

  or hang out or you know, be a friend.

  God.

  “Are you mad at me or something?” she asks.

  Jess follows me back to the supply closet.

  I put up the cleaner and towels

  in perfect order.

  Wanting to maintain that I have total control.

  Give no one a hint that I’m about to fold

  if I can’t find something to grab

  hold

  of.

  “No, why would I be mad at you?”

  I try and act casual, but she can tell

  my lie is blaringly

  bad.

  “I don’t know, Louisa, you’ve been totally MIA all week, and I was getting pissed, but then I came in here and saw that guy.”

  She points to Toby

  in his skinny fit Levi’s

  black square frames

  flannel shirt sweater vest

  tousled hair barely tamed.

  “And I totally get why you have been busy!” She laughs at me

  like I am supposed to be in on it.

  I don’t have time for this

  anymore.

  “It’s not that, Jess. God. Okay? I just have a bunch of shit going on…and Ms. F is being a hard ass…you know? So cut it out.”

  I turn to walk away

  not wanting to spend my break this way.

  I’m being a horrible friend

  and I know it,

  but I don’t know how to stop it

  unless I let her

  in.

  And since I’m not prepared for that

  my best bet

  is to push her away first

  before she I can be hurt.

  “What’s your problem, Louisa? I’ve just been worried about you, and my parents wanted you to come with us to our cabin for New Years so I’ve been wanting to ask you that too, but whatever. Clearly you don’t want to hang out with me. I can get a fucking clue.”

  Self-Preservation

  Can Be A

  Bitch.

  “I don’t think I’d be able go anyway. Besides, I’m sure Markus would love to make snow angels or whatever with you.”

  “I don’t want to go with Markus. I wanted to go with you, my best friend.”

  “Well, it won’t work for me. I have this job now, Jess, I have to be responsible, okay?”

  “The store isn’t even open those days, Louisa.” She points to the sign on the freshly washed door. CLOSED: CHRISTMAS EVE and DAY. NEW YEARS EVE and DAY. “Why do you have to be like this?”

  “It’s not you, it’s me, Jess. I swear. I just don’t have time for….”

  I wave my arms in front of myself

  saying words I don’t mean

  probably causing a scene.

  “So, you’re like, breaking up with me?” Jess asks, tears in her eyes.

  She stands in disbelief

  trying to piece

  together what is happening.

  “I guess so.” I say.

  I look her in the eyes

  blank stare on my face

  not wanting to trace

  the reasons why it needs to end.

  “Whatever, Louisa. I don’t get it. Get you. You’ve been better than any boyfriend I’ve ever had because you are my best friend. But I guess it wasn’t the same for you.”

  She turns away

  because what more is there to say

  when someone pushes you to go?

  I walk into the bathroom and shut the door

  I fall to the floor

  and crumble

  just like Benji’s suicide note.

  I wonder who will

  ever smooth me out

  and fold me up

  and put me in the

  palm of their

  hand.

  98.

  Christmas Eve starts quietly

  and it is exactly what I need.

  Lying in my bed I keep the

  blanket wrapped around my body

  I have been a
t 6-Spot

  everyday for the last five days

  and I’m spent.

  Ms. Francine has been constantly worried,

  trying to talk to

  me.

  I wish she’d let me be.

  Suddenly everything she does makes me mad.

  The caring and sharing

  suddenly feels overbearing.

  I don’t need her sympathy.

  God it has been such a week.

  I haven’t given a second look to the note

  Benji wanted to leave for me

  because when I think about it

  my soul bleeds.

  I don’t need that.

  Not when I need to be strong.

  Strong so Mom will work

  to get me back

  even though Benji is making me pick

  up his slack.

  I can be everything my

  mother needs

  and I am going to prove that

  when we celebrate Christmas

  together.

  99.

  I do my best to remain hopeful

  over the fact that Christmas Eve happiness

  is dependent

  on a woman I shouldn’t count on

  yet still long

  for.

  I’m in Ms. Francine’s car.

  I feel like half my life is spent

  sitting in this vehicle

  as she takes me from one place to the next

  meetingstherapyschool.

  Now

  on the eve of Christmas

  I’m sitting here like a fool

  waiting for Mom to show.

  “Louisa, it’s been fifteen minutes since you were supposed to meet, would you like to use my phone to call her?” Ms. F asks.