The Mystic

by Maggie Santangelo

  He rests his elbows on his legs and hangs his head. “I’m adopted.”

  “Oh.” Now it makes sense. And Grandpa must’ve known because he said Ms. Mona wasn’t Zac’s mother. Of course.

  He sits back and looks around, as if looking for something. Or someone. “You wanna walk around some more?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  We walk and talk, no longer pretending to be interested in the fish. “Mom and Dad were foster parents when they took me in as a foster child. I don’t remember my real mother, and I don’t think she knew who my real father even was.”

  “Wow. You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too hard.”

  “No, it’s ok. There’s really not much to tell. I don’t remember my birth mother. All I do remember is being locked in my room for a really long time. I was scared and hungry. And then the police came and took me. The next thing I remember was someone dropping me off at my mom and dad’s house, because I consider the people who raised me and took care of me to be my mom and dad.”

  We’ve walked the entire aquarium now and we’re back at the exit. On our way out, someone tells us to have a nice day. We thank him and step out into the fresh air.

  “That must have been…” What? Horrible, sad, frightening? I don’t think I need to point out the obvious.

  “It was scary at first, but they had three other foster kids at the time so I actually thought it was fun. Then one by one they left, and Mom and Dad didn’t take any more kids in.”

  “I guess they stopped with the best one.” I smile at him to lighten the mood.

  He laughs. “That’s right.”

  “So, they adopted you before they got divorced?”

  “Yes. Mom assured me I wasn’t the reason for their divorce, and I believe her. I just think that the other kids had somewhere else to go and I didn’t. Mom has a big heart, you know; she couldn’t turn me out to be bounced around in foster homes all my life. So they stayed married long enough for my adoption to go through, and then they were done.”

  “Maybe that’s why you’re not mad at your dad for leaving.”

  “Maybe. He could have just left and not bothered adopting me.”

  That makes sense now. He seemed a little too ok with his dad not being around. But he still seems a little too ok with everything. I guess I don’t really know as much about him as I thought I did. I say, “I’m glad you told me.”

  He looks at me and smiles. He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. We walk back to his car with our arms around each other, and when we stop he kisses me.

  ***

  I shuffle through my deck of tarot cards, randomly turning a card faceup. Ace of Hearts, Two of Pentacles, The Fool. They mean nothing to me. I stack the cards and set them next to my stained glass church. I had a good day with Zac. He treated me to dinner after the aquarium; nothing fancy, but it was nice. He’s easy to talk to. So I don’t know why I feel so sad and hopeless now.

  I lay on my bed, afraid to sleep. Lately the good is so good and the bad keeps me awake at night. Anything in the middle feels like I’m waiting for something to happen. Waiting. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. For death to get me, I guess. To be in that better place that everyone speaks of. Where my father waits for me. The better place.

  In the bathroom I open the medicine cabinet and find a bottle of medicine. I open it and look at the pills, little and blue. The label tells me the name of the pills, but I can’t pronounce it. It doesn’t say what they’re for except that they will make you drowsy. “Do not operate heavy machinery.” Ok, that’s not part of my plan. What is the plan? That’s simple—I don’t have one. I just want to have a dreamless sleep.

  I feel as though I’m a puppet moving on strings. Pull my strings, I’ll go out with you. Pull my strings, I’ll kiss you. Pull my strings, I’ll swallow this bottle of drowsy pills.

  And so I do.

  They don’t go down at once; they’re very dry, and some get caught in my throat. The taste is horrible. I turn on the faucet and cup my hand under the water so I can drink it down as fast as possible. I say good night to the girl in the mirror, but what I really mean is goodbye.

  In bed I’m no longer afraid of sleep, I welcome it. No more nightmares, no more tears. Just gray.

  My phone is ringing. I don’t know who would call me now, maybe no one. Maybe it’s part of a dream. I fumble to answer, “Hm?”

  Things are happening in flashes. I open my eyes and the ceiling is moving. This isn’t my ceiling, there are too many lights. No, I’m moving. I open my eyes again and I’m lying in a bed with two strangers talking to me. I can’t understand what they’re saying. I close my eyes and hear the sound of questions being asked. I open them and I’m alone.

  I wake up in a white room. “Am I dead?” I say, but there’s no one around to answer me. I try to move but my wrists are tied down. I feel sleep coming on again; I try to fight it.

  “Raina, wake up,” a voice says.

  “Daddy?” I say in a voice that doesn’t sound like my own. My throat hurts and my mouth is so dry.

  “No, it’s Zac.”

  Zac. Why is Zac here? Where is here?

  “It’s ok, Raina. You’re fine.”

  “I am?”

  “You’re in the hospital.”

  “My wrists are tied down,” I say.

  “No, they’re not,” he says.

  “Yes, they are.” I lift up my arm to show him. But they’re not tied down. “They were.”

  “Maybe so. You took a bottle of pills, you know. They say you tried to kill yourself.”

  “No.” I look around the room; there’s a doorway on one side and a curtain on the other. I look up at Zac; he looks worried.

  “It was an accident,” I say.

  A woman wearing a white uniform comes in and says, “Looks like you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

  “Dry.”

  Zac says, “I have to go. I’ll go find your aunt and tell her you’re awake.” He leans over and kisses me on the cheek.

  I nod.

  “Here’s some water.” The nurse hands me a cup. She takes my blood pressure, temperature, and pulse.

  “Where am I?”

  “The naval hospital,” the nurse says.

  “In New Orleans?”

  “Yes. You were admitted last night.”

  “Why?” I ask. Even though I already know, I want to hear it from someone else.

  “The doctor will come in and talk to you.” She goes about typing on the computer she wheeled in here. She doesn’t smile or make conversation with me. She does tell me, “You can brush your teeth now.”

  “I’m hungry,” I say.

  She gives me an odd look. “There’s a toothbrush in the bathroom. Go ahead and I’ll wait here for you.”

  She’s cold; I want her to leave. “I’ll be fine, I can do it.”

  “I have to wait here, so why don’t you go to the bathroom. Do you need help?”

  “No, I said I can do it.” I push the covers back and sit up. My head is pounding and I feel dizzy, but I don’t want to let on to the nurse. I move slowly to the bathroom as she stays close by.

  I begin to brush my teeth when I notice my teeth are black. I ask the nurse on the other side of the door, “Why are my teeth black?”

  “Come on out and we can discuss your treatment.”

  I brush my teeth three times before it comes off, and then I realize Zac has seen me like this. Great. I walk back out and sit on the bed. “Ok, now can you tell me?”

  “You came in with toxic levels of a very potent medication in your stomach. You’re lucky your neighbor brought you here when she did. You were given liquid charcoal in the emergency room, it neutralizes the toxins.”

  “Charcoal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who brought me here?”

  “All I know is that it was a neighbor. Go ahead and lie back down because I have other patients to see.”

  “When can I go home?�
��

  “You have to stay for two more days, unless your doctor says it’s ok for you to leave sooner. Now, I really have to go.”

  Once she leaves I see Aunt Brooke peek around the corner. “Hi, Raina, mind if I come in?”

  “Hi, come in,” I say.

  “Honey, if you needed help, I wish you would have let us know.”

  I look at the curtain that divides the room and see a shadow from something on the other side, I can’t tell what.

  “Your mom was here this morning.”

  I look at her. “She was?”

  “Yes. We’re all very worried about you. Maybe you should come stay with us for a while; you’ve been through so much.”

  “I can’t leave Grandpa alone.”

  She frowns. “Well, dear, what did you think would happen to him if you didn’t wake up?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “He’ll be all right. His doctor says he’s fine.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about what would happen, but he’s not fine. Anyway, where’s my mom?”

  “She had to go pick up the kids, but she said she would come back.”

  “Kids?”

  “Tristan and Haley.”

  “Oh, she’s so worried about me that she left to go pick up her boyfriend’s kids. Got it.”

  “We’re all doing the best we can, Raina. Don’t be upset with her, she loves you so much.”

  “She’s not here.”

  Aunt Brooke looks out the door like she wants to make a run for it.

  “You can go.”

  “I want to make sure you’re ok before I leave.”

  “I’m fine. Does Ellie know?”

  “Yes, she called you and could tell something was wrong, so then she called Ms. Mona to go over and check on you.”

  “Oh, so that’s how I got here.”

  “Yes. I just texted Ellie and told her that you’re awake. She’s at work right now.”

  I wonder if she’s going to tell Johnny. She’ll probably tell Andre and he’ll tell Johnny. I’m so embarrassed, I don’t even know why I did it.

  I feel myself falling asleep when the nurse comes back in. I think she’s here for me until she walks by me and to the other side of the curtain.

  “Carly, I have your evening meds.”

  “I don’t want them.”

  “Now, Carly, don’t give me a hard time.”

  “Don’t give me a hard time,” the girl says in a mocking tone.

  “Here, take this one first.”

  “No.”

  “Do I need to call your doctor?”

  “Like I care.”

  “Here you go.”

  It’s quiet except for the sound of a cup being set down on the tray. I hear that sound four times before the nurse says, “Thank you, honey.”

  “You can leave now,” the girl says.

  The nurse wheels her computer cart by without looking at me.

  I must have fallen asleep after the nurse left, it looks like it’s dark out. I can’t see the window because the curtain is blocking it, but I can see that the sun isn’t shining in.

  “Well, I guess Mom’s not coming back,” I say out loud.

  I hear laughter from the other bed.

  “Is that funny?”

  “Yes. Ha, ha!”

  “Whatever,” I say. There’s a tray with food sitting beside me. I can’t believe I slept right through someone bringing it in, I was so hungry. I pull the tray closer and lift the lid. It looks like turkey slices with mashed potatoes and mushy green beans.

  “You’re not going to want to eat that,” the girl says.

  “It doesn’t look good, but I’m hungry, so unless you’ve got something better to share, I’m eating it.”

  “You could just not eat. You were trying to kill yourself anyway, so why eat?”

  “I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

  “Yes, you were, I heard the nurse.”

  “I wasn’t, and you wouldn’t understand.”

  I hear the clicking of metal and shuffling around, and then the curtain swings open. I see the girl and immediately feel worse than I already did. She’s tiny. Even though I could tell by her voice that she’s young, she’s smaller than I expected. And she’s so thin. But the most noticeable thing about her is that she has no hair.

  “I understand more than you do,” she says.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Why? For being a waste of space?”

  I don’t know what to say. I look down at my plate of food. I don’t want it anymore. I push it away.

  “I thought so.” She turns and climbs back into bed.

  It feels like an hour goes by before I finally have the nerve to ask, “Do you have cancer?”

  “No,” she says. “It has me.”

  ~ 9 ~

  It’s a quiet ride home from the hospital. Mom refuses to speak to me unless it’s necessary. I guess I can understand why she’s mad, but she doesn’t understand why I’m hurt. I don’t think I can make her understand, especially not if she won’t talk or listen. She didn’t come to see me once Aunt Brooke told her I was awake.

  She pulls up in front of Grandpa’s house, my home. “I didn’t say anything about this to Kyle.”

  “Are you ashamed of me?”

  “No, but I’m not proud of you either. I hope you learned your lesson and this won’t happen again.”

  “Yes. Are you coming in?”

  “What for?”

  “For me. To say hi to Grandpa.”

  “I’m here for you, I brought you home. I’m not going in. Tell your grandfather I said hi.”

  Once I reach the door I look back for her, but she’s gone.

  “Hi, Grandpa, I’m home!”

  “Who’s that?” he says.

  I find him in his chair, at the table, reading the paper and drinking coffee. It’s such a welcome sight. “It’s just me. Did you miss me?”

  He looks at me like maybe he has missed me. I sit next to him and he goes back to reading.

  “Mom dropped me off. She didn’t have time to come in, but she said to tell you hi.”

  He turns the page.

  “Ok, well, I guess I’m going to take a long, hot shower.”

  He closes his paper and looks at me. “Raina.”

  “Yes.” I sit back down.

  “I know it’s you, and I know I’m getting more forgetful.”

  “It’s ok, Grandpa. I love you.”

  “I love you too. I’ve waited so long to finally meet you, and now here you are. All grown up, and so beautiful.”

  I smile at him and hold onto his hand. Only a grandparent could think someone who looks a mess like I do is beautiful. It makes me smile.

  “I wasn’t always there for Rachel and Jacob. I can’t turn back time and fix that. Although I wish I could. And their mother, well, she tried.”

  “Tried what?”

  “She felt trapped here and she wanted to leave, but I wouldn’t let her. She was always talking foolish. She said she was like a firefly trapped in a jar, fighting against the glass to be free.”

  “I know how she feels.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  I decide quickly that it’s better to agree than to ruin this moment with an argument. So I agree, “Yeah, you’re right, it is kinda ridiculous.”

  He looks at me. His eyes are clear and focused. He says, “She left me.”

  “She did?”

  He looks away and then back down to his paper. After careful examination, he chooses a new section and opens it.

  “What happened?” I say.

  “The world has gone mad,” he says.

  We sit in silence for a while. I think I’ve lost him again. I remember the tiny girl next to me in the hospital. It has me.

  “All right, Grandpa, you just read your paper.” I get up to go take a shower.

  “You disappoint me,” he says.

  I turn back. “I’m sorry?”

  He sets his paper back down and glar
es at me. “You didn’t go through with it.”

  “Grandpa…”

  “You’re a coward,” he says.

  “I’m not Rachel,” I say louder than I mean to, but I can’t help my frustration.

  “No, you’re not.” He crumbles up the section of the paper he was reading, never taking his eyes off me. He forms it into a ball and tosses it up into the air. It catches fire and hovers over the table. He doesn’t flinch.

  “I’m not going to do it. My dad will wait for me,” I say.

  He bats away the fireball with his hand and it lands on the wall. The fire begins to spread. He stands up and lifts his mask; it’s my tormentor back to continue where he left off.

  I turn and run right into my father. His skin is burnt, he’s barely recognizable.

  “I can’t do it. I can’t leave Grandpa, he needs me.”

  “No, he doesn’t. He’ll be with us soon.”

  “He’s fine. He remembered me, we talked.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I don’t know. I don’t know what’s real. I was just talking to him…and then what? Maybe none of it was real. “Where am I?”

  “Now, Raina. Just look at what you’ve done to yourself.”

  “I didn’t mean to take those pills, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  He shakes his head and looks down at my arms. I lift them up; they’re covered in blood. I’m bleeding from my wrists.

  “I didn’t do this!”

  The voice of the devil behind me speaks, “You should.”

  “No,” I say. I feel weak, I need to sit down. I back up and lean against the wall, and then I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor. Blood puddles in my lap.

  It has me.

  “You’d better believe it. I won’t let you go.”

  It walks past me, grabs hold of my father and wraps its wings around him. It looks like a cocoon.

  I try to stand up but I can’t move. I close my eyes. I think, this is it. I hear it laugh.

  ***

  The laughter wakes me up. I rub my eyes and try to see where I am. It’s my room, I’m on my bed. I’m still dressed and I’m lying on top of my quilt. I don’t remember walking in here; all I remember is talking to Grandpa and then he changed. I check my arms, they’re fine.

  The laughter is coming from outside. I look out the window to see kids playing. I didn’t know any kids lived around here.