Calvin

by Martine Leavitt

  Me: I read antipsychotic drugs have side effects, like they shrink your brain.

  Doctor: Every drug has potential side effects, Calvin. Patients may experience constipation, bed-wetting, drooling … decreased libido. But this is extremely rare.

  Me: That’s extremely not comforting.

  Hobbes was laughing.

  Doctor: These medications are a great advancement in the treatment of certain psychoses.

  Me: No meds. Hobbes isn’t that bad.

  Hobbes: Not bad? I’m brilliant!

  Me (to Hobbes): They want to medicate me.

  Hobbes: That’s because they think I’m an auditory hallucination.

  Me: You are.

  Hobbes: I am not.

  Me: Are so.

  Hobbes: Am not.

  Me: Are so are so are so …

  I realized the doctor was leaving the room, and I was talking out loud to nobody.

  And that’s why they want to put people on medication.

  * * *

  After I had breakfast I walked around the floor, which Dr. Filburn said I was allowed to do as long as I behaved myself. The people I saw didn’t seem sick, or at least any sicker than what I saw in high school every day. The nurses looked a bit suspicious, like undercover spies or something. They pretended not to look at me when I checked out the doors, but I knew they were keeping their eyes on me. All the doors had coded access keypads, and a notice to visitors said the code was changed every few days and to check with the nursing staff.

  In the common area I saw a woman who lifted her mug slowly to her mouth, her hand shaking, pinkie finger extended, bringing it almost to her lips, then slowly, carefully, as if she were placing the last card on a house of cards, set it back down on the table. She looked sad, as if she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t drink her tea. Then she did it again. The fifth time, I walked away.

  A guy about my age saw me and saluted.

  Soldier guy: Sir!

  His hand was stiff in a salute over his right eye.

  Me: At ease, soldier.

  His hand dropped to his side.

  Soldier guy: Got ourselves captured, sir.

  Me: We sure did.

  Soldier guy: I don’t know how we can get away from them.

  I was standing there looking at him, judging him, thinking this was my new peer group, when Hobbes spoke up.

  Hobbes: You could slip out behind some visitors.

  Me (to soldier guy): I don’t know how to get away either, corporal, but I’m working on it. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.

  Soldier guy: Yes, sir. I’ll await your orders, sir.

  Hobbes: Tell him to drop and give you twenty.

  * * *

  I found a computer in the public reading room. I went online and checked out a map and the weather forecast. I’d saved eight hundred dollars in my entire life, which would pay for about eight days of college. Instead I would do this really cool thing with it. Next I sent a letter to the editor of your local paper, Bill, The Plain Dealer in Cleveland, telling him about the amazing plan I’d come up with. As you may know, I also sent an e-mail to you in care of your publisher, Andrews McMeel Universal. I felt better once the plan was in motion.

  Then the place got pretty busy with visitors, and Hobbes and I went back to my room.

  I was thinking about my getaway when I glanced up and saw Susie McLean standing in my room.

  Hobbes: Hi, babe!

  Susie McLean. The closest approximation to a friend that I’ve ever had. We’ve lived two doors away from each other since we were babies, and played together or fought together all growing up. She was just a part of my life—every neuron in my brain had a dendrite with Susie’s name on it. And then a couple years ago she won the gene-pool lottery and turned out beautiful. Not long after that she started attracting a group of normal friends and hung out with me less and less. She hadn’t really talked to me much in a whole year, so it didn’t make sense that she’d be here now, standing in my hospital room.

  She was wearing a T-shirt that said Never trust an atom—they make up everything.

  She didn’t say anything, just looked at me like she was surprised to see me lying there.

  Me: Shouldn’t you be in school?

  Susie: It’s Saturday.

  Me: Why did you come here?

  Susie: I was curious. Your mom told my mom.

  Me: You wanted to see the schizophrenic kid?

  She nodded. Not smiling. Not embarrassed. It’s really hard to embarrass Susie.

  Susie: Schizophrenia, hey?

  Me: Well, they won’t say for sure yet. The doctor says it will take a long time to confirm his diagnosis.

  Susie: What does it feel like?

  Me: Like my head is a transmogrifier gun—I have to be careful what I point my brain at.

  Hobbes: It’s a lethal weapon.

  Me (to Hobbes): Careful or I’ll aim it at you.

  Susie: Who are you talking to?

  Me: I was having a conversation with Hobbes, of which you only heard my part.

  Susie: It’s rude of you to have a conversation I can only hear one side of. Tell Hobbes that.

  Hobbes: Babe, you are something. Tell Susie that.

  Susie stared at me a bit more.

  Susie: Maurice and his henchmen are making the most of your breakdown.

  Me: Really? I’m surprised.

  Susie: You are?

  Me: No.

  Susie: They’re saying you’re psycho.

  Me: Kids these days.

  Susie: Are you? Psycho?

  Me: Can you hear Hobbes laughing at me?

  Susie: No.

  Me: Then yes, I am. You may not know that highly creative people who do well on tests of divergent thought have a lower density of dopamine receptors in the thalamus, as do people with schizophrenia. Schizophrenics and creative people have a lower degree of signal filtering, less sense of conventional limitations.

  Susie:

  Me: I’m creative. My thoughts diverge.

  Susie: Hoo-boy, do they. When are you coming back to school?

  Me: I’m not going back.

  Susie:

  Me: I can’t go back. You know that. Teenagers have zero tolerance for people who don’t come to consensus about reality.

  Susie: You just don’t want to go to school because you’ve never liked school.

  Me: Yeah, but the weird thing is, my biggest fear now is that I won’t be able to go back to school, or even to Earth. Everything I love is here on Earth.

  Susie: I read online that some educated people and famous people and even rich people have schizophrenia.

  Me: Don’t say that word.

  Susie: Is Hobbes still there?

  Me: Yes.

  Susie: Schizophrenia, schizophrenia, schizophrenia …

  Me: Okay, okay!

  Susie: I could bring your homework.

  Me: I’m not doing my homework. I’m in a hospital. If I could do my homework, I wouldn’t be in a hospital.

  Susie: I’ll help you.

  Me: I’m sick. I’ll do whatever I want. If you think I’m so weird you can always go, you know.

  She started zipping up her parka.

  Hobbes: You’ve always had a way with the girls.

  Me: Wait. Susie, before you go, I have to tell you something. You’re … you’re part of it.

  Susie: Part of what?

  Me: Part of what’s happening to me. Didn’t you ever think about, you know, that you’re named Susie, and you’re friends with a guy named Calvin?

  Susie: I always thought my parents didn’t put much imagination into my name—

  Me: I was born on the same day that Bill Watterson published his very last comic strip?

  Susie: You’ve mentioned that.

  Me: My gramps gave me a stuffed tiger called Hobbes? I’m hyperactive and pathologically imaginative? And then, even more amazing, a girl lives two doors down and her name is Susie!

  Susie: I
see. So my existence is merely an extension of your imaginary life.

  I lay back on my pillows. I could hear Hobbes purring like a lawn mower.

  Me: Maybe once you create an idea and millions of people are loving that idea, when you get brilliance and love all mixed up like that, it makes something that has to go somewhere. It impacts reality, like a meteorite hitting Earth. Bang! I think the universe just couldn’t let Calvin go.

  Susie: I’m sure they have a pill for that.

  Me: I don’t want to go on medication. I’m going to do something that will make me better, that will make Bill Watterson make me better.

  Susie: Medication will make you better.

  Me: I’ve asked Bill for one more comic strip, with Calvin, at age seventeen, in his right mind. No Hobbes.

  Hobbes: Hey!

  Me: I’m going to do something that will make him want to draw that comic for me.

  Susie: So what is this thing you’re going to do?

  Me: What was the last thing Calvin said? He was outside in the snow, and he said, let’s go exploring.

  Susie: I remember.

  Me: I’m going exploring. I’m going on a winter hike.

  Susie: When? What about school?

  Me: I told you, I can’t go back.

  Susie: So you’re going to let Maurice and all the ignorant people destroy your life? You’re going to let them decide what you think of yourself and what you can do? Okay. Fine. Where are you hiking? Out of town?

  Me: Out of the province.

  Susie:

  Me: Out of the country.

  Susie:

  Me: I’m going to walk to Cleveland, where Bill Watterson is reported to live.

  Susie: Cleveland? From Leamington?

  I nodded.

  Susie (her voice becoming a bit intense): So you think that if you do this thing, Bill Watterson is going to make another Calvin comic when so far nobody else has managed to convince him? Not other famous comic artists, not his publishers, not his millions of fans? You think that you walking around Lake Erie is going to change his mind?

  Me: Yeah, except for one thing. I’m not walking around the lake.

  Susie: How are you going to walk to Cleveland if you don’t walk around the lake?

  Me: I’m walking across the lake.

  Susie:

  Me (grinning):

  Susie (whispering): You think you’re Jesus …

  Me: On the ice! On the ice! How crazy do you think I am?

  Susie: Crazy enough to be in a hospital ward for crazy people. Did you know that every year people die on Lake Erie in the winter?

  I was losing her. I could hear Hobbes laughing in some out-of-my-vision corner of the room.

  Me: It’s been below freezing for a month, and—

  Susie: You’re trying to kill yourself!

  Me: Sooz, you have to do something big to get something big. Everyone wants more Calvin comics, but they don’t need it. Not like me. And even if they did, they don’t need it enough to do anything. Face it—nobody has tried very hard. This will be a pilgrimage, you know?

  Susie: A pilgrimage to kill yourself. Besides, it’s—it’s manipulative.

  Me: I’m not manipulating him. I’m just showing him how much I need him. People write letters to Bill, but nobody’s done a pilgrimage.

  Susie: And you think he’ll be waiting on the other side? With this comic?

  Me: That’s the idea.

  Susie stood staring at me, her eyes almost as big as her whole face.

  Susie: Okay. Okay. Since your brain has lost all reason, let’s remember at least that Bill’s brain is not to be messed with.

  Me: Maybe. But you never know about a brain like that. Bill is a genius.

  Susie: He worked hard.

  Me: What are the odds that you get both, genius and the ability to work hard?

  Susie: One you’re born with. The other you develop as you mature.

  Me: There’s always a trick, isn’t there.

  Susie: I’m going to tell your mom.

  Me: If you do, she won’t let me go.

  Susie: Did you honestly think you could let me in on this and I wouldn’t tell?

  Me: They’ll say I’m a danger to myself. They’ll keep me in the hospital forever.

  Susie: You are!

  Me: You know I can do it.

  Susie started shaking her head. Just a little shake, back and forth, while I talked.

  Me: I was a Boy Scout, remember? You made fun of me?

  She kept shaking her head like a bobblehead.

  Me: I love to camp, even in the winter. You know that.

  She stopped shaking her head.

  Susie: You’re really serious about this.

  Me: I’m going to do it. You could make it hard for me, or easier.

  Susie: What if you had a … a breakdown out there?

  Me: I’m already broken. This is about putting the pieces back together.

  Susie’s hands were quiet at the ends of her arms. That was so cool about her. Other girls were always touching their hair or checking their nails or their phones or gesturing when they talked. Susie could be so still.

  Susie: You didn’t have to tell me.

  Me: No.

  Susie: You told me because you trusted me.

  I shrugged, which meant, was I wrong?

  She almost smiled, which meant, no.

  Hobbes: You’ve never really understood women.

  Me: Could you please just go away?

  Hobbes: I want it to be like old times.

  Me: It’s not socially acceptable at my age to have an imaginary friend.

  Hobbes: Do we care?

  Me: I care! I hear you because I’m sick! I’m sick because I hear you!

  Susie: I’m going to be kind and assume you’re not talking to me.

  Me: I’m leaving. Now. Before my parents show up.

  Susie: I’m coming with you.

  And that’s when I realized she probably wasn’t any more real than Hobbes.

  I got dressed and grabbed my parka and walked into the hall with Susie.

  Me: Pretend you’re just a visitor.

  Susie: I am just a visitor.

  Me: Pretend I’m just a visitor.

  We sauntered behind two adults like they were our parents. Hobbes padded just behind me. I couldn’t look right at him no matter how fast I turned my head, but as we walked toward the door I saw his front paw, which was twice as big as my foot. I knew he wasn’t there but mostly he was.

  Nobody stopped us or even looked at us until the soldier guy passed us in the hall. He saluted, and his arm fell.

  Soldier guy: You’re escaping.

  Me: Yeah.

  Soldier guy: You’re going without me.

  Me: I have to.

  Soldier guy: Come back for me.

  Me: I will.

  I saluted him and he saluted me, and Susie and Hobbes and I walked out of the ward doors behind some adults, just like that.

  It occurred to me as we were walking that the soldier guy hadn’t said anything to or about Susie. I stared at her, but her face didn’t morph—okay, it was a bit woozy, but she was still pretty in a mean sort of way.

  Me: Be gone, image.

  Susie (sighing): I’m not an image.

  Me: Images say things like that.

  We found a cab waiting at the front doors of the hospital.

  Susie: Where are we going?

  Me: Campers Heaven.

  She nodded.

  It made no sense that this cute girl who had lots of friends and was good in school and who could probably have any guy she wanted was coming with me someplace. It also made no sense that Hobbes was in the backseat with us. I still couldn’t see him, but somehow I knew he was there. I felt like you do in a dream where you realize you’re dreaming and you think, well, as long as I’m dreaming …

  * * *

  We stopped at the bank on the way and then asked the cabdriver to wait outside while we were in Campers H
eaven. The store smelled like tents and leather boots and granola, and I felt weirdly happy for the first time in what seemed like a long time.

  Clerk: Hi, there. Can I help you with something today?

  Me: Yes, I need to buy some winter hiking gear.

  Susie: Two of everything.

  Clerk: Certainly.

  Me (to Susie): Hobbes doesn’t need hiking gear. He has a fur coat, remember?

  Susie: I’m going with you, remember?

  Me: You said that just to bug me.

  Susie: You want me to call your parents and tell them what you’re doing?

  Me: You wouldn’t.

  She folded her arms.

  Me: Susie, this is going to be a seventeen-hour hike, maybe twenty. And you never know what conditions might be on the lake.

  Susie: Two of everything. You knew I wouldn’t let you go alone.

  I stood there with my mouth open, and while my mouth was open all these thoughts blew in.

  I remembered the exact moment when I realized I’d lost Susie. It was the beginning of eleventh grade, and we were standing at our lockers and she had just discovered the dead spider I’d put through her locker vent. She looked at it and she looked at me, but she didn’t get mad. I couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.

  Did she feel sorry for me? And in the next second, she was swarmed by her girlfriends. They were all around her and you could see she had friends and I didn’t.

  Aside from Hobbes getting washed to death, that was probably my loneliest moment of all time. I guess if I had any excuse for letting things get as far as they did, Bill, it was because when she said she was going with me across the lake, I felt all that loneliness go away. It all sounds pretty lame now, but at the time …

  Me: What’s the first thing you pack on a winter hike?

  Susie: Food? Toilet paper?

  Me: Confidence. Believing you can do it.

  Susie: And snow pants.

  Me: Proper clothing is essential. But even more essential is staying clearheaded and calm.

  Susie: Uh-oh.

  Me (ignoring her): Synthetic fabrics, polypropylene is the best. If they get wet, they still insulate.

  Susie: Oh, good. We’ll be insulated all the way to the bottom of the lake.

  Me: The lake is frozen up. Long underwear, synthetic or merino wool. Microfleece shirts, and we’ve already both got down parkas, hats, and mitts. We need good hiking boots, of course, waterproof and insulated, and big enough for two pairs of good socks. We need an extra pair of socks each, and probably another pair of mitts, and sunglasses.