by Yessi Smith
“What happened to her?” I ask but am afraid to hear the answer.
“She killed herself. She took all her medications at once. She left me a note, telling me she loved me and that there was nothing I could have done to have helped her. You know, on the day of her death, she was worried I’d blame myself. Who does that?”
“She loved you,” I offered, knowing it’s not enough.
“But am I worthy of that kind of love?”
The answer is yes, we all are, but I doubt Hayley actually expects or wants an answer. With tears in her eyes, she turns around so she is facing away from me, so I scoot closer to her and put my arms around her waist. My heart hurts for her, for her loss, for the guilt she carries inside of her.
I wonder if that’s why she chose to speak to me on my first day here. Did she see my pain and guilt? Did she see we were kindred spirits? Did she think we could help one another move on? It doesn’t matter. We’re here, and from this moment we are in this struggle together.
Even though I know she doesn’t want to hear it, I tell her anyway. Because it’s true. “We’re all worthy of that type of love,” I whisper.
Adam
Dee. My thoughts always go back to her. They usually also start with her. She encompasses most of my thoughts, so much so that I’m happy for this tour. I’m glad to be away from her so that I can break away from her. It’s painful to see her, to touch her, without really being seen or touched by her.
Her thoughts still surround Josh. It’s been almost a year since Josh’s death and her pain is still as much a part of her as it was the days following his death. Maybe more so.
So, I am using this time to regroup and refocus my energies on my band and the goals Josh and I once set.
I owe it to him to reach all of his goals.
Ten years old
My heart slams hard and fast, wanting to escape the confines of my chest, so I hold my chest and breathe. My knees are weak and I know they’ll start to tremble any minute. I look back at my friend and smile. He looks so sure of himself, he knows he killed it.
I did pretty well too. I saw Mom in the audience and my heart swelled with pride when she stood up after my piano recital and cheered louder than anyone else there.
I fumbled a few of my notes, but no one seemed to notice. Honestly, I’m just glad I didn’t vomit on stage.
“You were awesome out there.” Josh puts his hand on my shoulder and I beam back at him.
Josh is more than just awesome. He plays the piano, sure, but he’s a beast on the drums. He’s also been teaching me how to play guitar after school so we can start our own band. All we need is a singer. I haven’t told him I can sing yet, because what if I really can’t? Mom likes my voice, but she’s my mom; she’s supposed to like my voice.
Mom hugs me and Josh when she sees us. “You boys did amazing.”
I nod, a bit embarrassed, because Josh’s parents aren’t here, and I wonder if he thinks I’m a dork because my mom goes to my practices and shows, but he smiles at her before giving her a big hug that she quickly returns.
“What do you think?” she asks over Josh’s head. “Pizza or burgers?”
“Burgers!” Josh and I respond at the same time.
“Your mom’s pretty great,” Josh says, punching my arm as we follow her to her car.
He’s right; she is pretty great. She fought hard and sometimes I think she’s won, but other times I find her in Tommy’s room, holding what would have been his blanket to her chest as she sings softly to a son she never had.
I lay in my bed with my laptop as I answer the hundreds of emails from my blog subscribers as Hayley squirts water at me from a water gun Adam brought us from his recent stop in New Orleans. I don’t know why he’d choose a water gun as a souvenir, but that’s Adam.
And I’m seriously starting to reconsider Hayley’s and my great idea of rooming together as I feel the back of my yoga pants grow wetter and wetter. It only took us a little over a month to convince our jailers we’d behave. Water gun aside, I like rooming with Hayley. She’s like this endless supply of ridiculousness that I feel I’ve been starving for my whole life. She’s fun, spontaneous and completely absurd.
I’m not sure what the nurses think of us, but they leave us to our own devices. At least, they usually do. They did put a stop to our dueling match. Apparently wheelchairs should not be ridden as horses any more than bottled water should be used as swords.
“Get off the computer. I’m bored,” Hayley complains from her bed.
“Go do something then,” I tell her as I finish my reply to a Gianna who has been considering seeing a therapist to help with her anxiety.
When I started writing my blog a little over a month ago, I didn’t think anyone would read it. I wrote because writing once brought me peace, and I needed that peace more than I needed my next breath of air. The fact that my words and my experiences are reaching people is just an added bonus. I go through my messages daily, devoting an hour a day to responding before I write my next post. Sometimes I post about my day or my feelings, which seems narcissistic and self-helping, so other days I devote a few posts addressing recurring issues I am messaged about. Either post is narcissistic and self-helping, because I enjoy writing. I love the very idea that what I write is being read by thousands. Really, thousands. That’s how many people follow my blog.
My timer goes off, warning me that I only have twenty minutes left until my hour is up, so I push send and open my last email for the day. My mouth drops when I read it, so I read it again.
“What? What is it?” Hayley leaves her bed and joins me on mine. I give her the laptop and let her read.
I wonder if it’s real. Can someone actually want to pay me to blog about my experience? Why would someone want to pay me for something I’m already doing for free? It doesn’t make any sense, but nothing in my life has ever really made any sense.
Hayley closes my laptop before giving it back to me. “So?”
“So what?” I ask.
“Don’t be a shit. Are you gonna do it?”
“It doesn’t sound legit.”
“I agree.” She nods. “But I’m willing to pay you loads of money if you leave your cyber buddies for the day and spend some time with your real life, in the flesh friend.”
“Wait, why do you agree?”
“Because I need your attention today.”
“You’ll get my attention when you give me a decent answer,” I counter.
“I should have made friends with Samantha,” she moans as she throws herself on my pillow dramatically.
“You’re stuck with me.” I poke her and she gives me a one fingered salute. “Why do you agree?”
“Think about it, Dee. When does anything good ever happen to you?” she asks and runs out the room before I can slap her.
A lot of help she was! I forward the email to Adam, knowing he’ll take it more seriously. Dr. Rios has been reminding me that I can’t live in the hospital forever, and that when I get out I need to do something with my life. I need a purpose. Being a good mom is one purpose, but what am I going to do when I’m not being a mom? Writing might be a good idea. It’d beat every other alternative Dr. Rios has offered.
I could be a writer. Why not?
I close my laptop and run out of my room with my water gun so I can chase down Hayley. I find her flirting with one of the new male patients, so I hide behind a chair and point my gun at her crotch. I squirt her several times before she notices and jumps on me. We struggle with the gun, but eventually she takes it away from me and squirts me in the face until I am choking on my own laughter.
I push Hayley off of me and we lie on the dirty hospital floor, still laughing. The new guy crouches down in front of us, watching us with a perplexed look on his face which only sends us into a greater fit of laughter.
“Are you two okay?” he asks when we finally sit up.
“We’re in a hospital with crazy people,” Hayley whispers in response. “
None of us are okay.”
I stand up, helping Hayley up in the process. We ignore the stares from our fellow crazies as we guide the new guy to our regular table.
“I’m Dee,” I offer once we’re sitting.
“Max.”
“So what brings you here, Max?” Hayley asks, as if we were having a normal conversation in a normal location.
Max looks around as if he’s afraid the others might hear him so we lean in closer to the table. “You can’t tell anyone,” he whispers, and we both dutifully nod our heads. “The CIA wants me.”
“Yeah, what for?” I ask, playing along.
“I was workin’ undercover, tryin’ to help them get their next big bust and—”
“You saw too much,” I finish for him, and he grins. “I’d say you’re safe here, but you may want to ask yourself how I know so much.”
“And you saw her shooting,” Hayley adds, twirling my water gun with her index finger.
“She’s a good shot,” he admits and eyes me curiously. “But you’re no spy,” he decides, and I shrug my shoulders. “How long you been here for?”
“I’m going on two months,” Hayley admits. “And Dee for about a month and a half.”
“So are they really strict on their rules here?”
Hayley looks under the table and back at Max. “Your shoes don’t have any strings, do they? What do you think?”
He looks back at her, confused. “They never had strings.”
“The CIA too cheap to get you shoestrings?”
“Somethin’ like that.” He grins. “What’s wrong with strings?”
“They take them away. Dental floss too. Razors, cell phones,” I add.
“Why?”
“So you don’t off yourself with them. But we’re veterans here,” Hayley gloats, and I laugh. Being a veteran at a psych ward isn’t exactly something to be proud about. “We’ve got all our privileges back.”
“Except for the dental floss.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t be too careful.” Max smirks.
I spoke to Dr. Rios about the probability of me becoming a writer, so she gave me links to several colleges for journalism. Only journalism doesn’t interest me. Since receiving the email earlier today, all I can think about is writing for a living. Not journalist type writing, but writing from my heart, from my experiences, and maybe from my imagination.
I’m tempted to email the messenger back, but want to hear back from Adam first. I want his input. His mom came by today like she usually does since Adam left on tour and thinks I should give it a try. And she’s right, there’s no loss in trying and failing. Loss comes from giving up before giving yourself a real shot. I like his mom, she knows the true value of loss and she understands my depression, but I want Adam’s input. I want to know if he thinks this is feasible or just some stupid childish dream. I pace the room as I wait for my screen to light up with his and Josie’s face. I can’t wait for them to come back home in two days. They’ll only be here for a week, but a week is better than nothing. I smile at my laptop when it rings and sit on the bed that no longer feels as uncomfortable as it did my first day here.
“Hey.” I smile at Adam.
“Hey back.” He looks beyond the computer and laughs as he shakes his head.
“What’s going on?”
“Amber,” he says, talking about the nanny he hired to watch Josie when he can’t. I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
“Where’s Josie?” I ask, slightly annoyed. Normally she’d be in his arms where I can see her, but I haven’t even heard her coo yet.
“Amber has her.”
“Oh?”
Adam gets up and walks away from the screen without any explanations, but I hear him off screen talking and laughing with Amber.
“There’s Mommy,” he says once he’s back in front of his laptop.
“There’s my pretty girl.” I smile at her and I swear I see her smile back. “What have you two been up to?”
“Rehearsals for tomorrow’s show. Amber took Josie to a mommy-and-me class and—”
“A what?” I ask, jealous of this woman I haven’t yet met.
“Mommy-and-me!” I hear her shout, and then she joins Adam and Josie on the screen. “I thought it’d be good for her to interact with other babies. The earlier Josie starts socializing, the better off she’ll be.” Amber expertly takes Josie from Adam’s arms and pats his leg before rising. “I’m gonna give her a quick bath,” she tells him without once looking at me.
The pit in my stomach returns as I watch her leave with my baby. This is supposed to be my time with Josie, and she’s taken that away from me. I should have argued, but I don’t feel entitled. Josie is my baby, but what rights do I have when I haven’t even earned the right to be called mom?
Adam watches her walk away with a smile on his face that tells me more than I want to know.
“You’re sleeping with her,” I accuse, and he snaps his head back at me.
“What?” I watch as he lowers the volume on his laptop, and I’m furious.
“You’re sleeping with her!” I shout loudly in the hopes that Amber will hear me.
“Yeah,” he whispers and looks around discreetly.
“You’re fucking our daughter’s nanny?”
“We’re not fucking, Dee.”
“Making love then?” I ask and he blushes. Christ, Adam is falling in love with Josie’s nanny. Is he serious? “What about conflict of interest?”
“What conflict of interest?”
“She takes care of Josie. What happens if things go sour between you?”
Adam runs his hands through his hair as his eyes dart around the room. “She’s a professional.”
“Professional in what exactly?”
Adam’s face tenses as he stares back at me. “What are you so mad about? You’re not gonna be in the hospital forever, are you? You’re eventually gonna be here to take care of Josie, so if things go sour it’s not like we’ll need a nanny anyway.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” I tell him and he looks away. There’s truth in that, but surprisingly the main person I’m worried about being hurt is me. I’m predictably selfish, but the surprise lies in Adam’s ability to hurt me with another woman. When did that happen?
“I showed your email to Ron.” Ron is Wasted Circle’s manager and is knowledgeable in just about everything. And in the areas where he isn’t knowledgeable, he usually knows someone who is.
“What’d he say?” I ask, not really caring for his abrupt change in conversation.
“He’s gonna look it up, but he thinks it’s legit. He says there are lots of people who pay for blogging.”
“Really?” I feel my heart beating behind my chest, and I don’t even try to stop the smile forming on my face. This could really happen. I could be a writer.
“Even if it’s not legit, you should write. I did some research after I got your email, and you could write a story and self-publish.”
Self-publishing a book. Would anyone be interested? The idea is terrifyingly thrilling.
“You could do it, Dee.”
I smile back at Adam, already forgiving him for sleeping with another woman. I don’t have any claims on him. How can I when my heart is still claimed by someone else? Unless I let him go. Dr. Rios focuses most of her private sessions with me on letting go. Can I let Josh go? Completely let him go? Because Adam deserves someone who would be completely his, without holding herself back. I don’t know if I can do it. And, like I said before, I don’t want to hurt Adam. Nor do I want to hurt myself. Losing Adam wouldn’t just scar me. I think it would be the last fatal blow.
I can’t lose him. I won’t lose him. He can have this Amber and any other Amber that waltzes into his life. As for me, I’ll be his friend. We have an unbreakable bond because of our daughter. That’s enough.
With Adam’s words in my head, I open a new screen on my computer and start to write after Adam and I hang up. I beg
in to write about a fictional character who had lost in love and, in doing so, lost herself. It won’t be a book draped in romance, but the story itself will be a journey through her struggles until she finds herself and her inner strength. Her strength will lie deep inside her greatest weakness. I just have to figure out what exactly either of those are.
I’m going to be a writer. Just the idea of it makes me so insanely happy I’m scared my face might crack.
Adam
I lied about Amber. One more lie amongst the mountains of lies that separate Dee from knowing how I really feel.
Amber and I aren’t sleeping together. We’ve flirted, but that’s about as far as we’ve gone.
So why did I lie? Maybe some perverse part of me liked the jealousy I saw flash in Dee’s eyes. The same jealousy that once flashed through my eyes every time I saw Dee and Josh together. A smarter man would have been honest. A brave man would have seized the moment and told her how he felt.
But I’m a coward. Fear of her rejection isn’t the only thing holding me back though. I can’t even blame the fear of betraying my best friend. My main captor is me. I don’t want to let her get too close only to let her down.
Eighteen years old
I cross the stage in my cap and gown, ready to give my Valedictorian speech while Mom, Josh and Dee watch me from the crowd. I step behind the microphone and look for them, my family.
Mom is smiling proudly at me while she keeps her hand on Josh’s arm. He’s been there for her in a way I never could. Maybe she thinks he’s somehow replaced Tommy since he embraced her as the mom he never had. I’ve tried to make life easier for her, everything I do circles around wanting to please her, ease her mind, make her proud. Anything that’ll bring her back to who she once was. But I only see the ghost of her when Josh is around. He brings out her laughter and joy.
I stand there in front of my mom, in front of my best friend and his girl who I have loved since the day I laid eyes on her. I know they’re proud of me; they’ve told me often enough. But I wonder if it’s enough. Like the six year old boy who tried to console his mom after she lost everything, I can’t help but wonder if I’m enough. What can I do differently so I don’t continue to fall short?
