“Are you mad at them?” he asks me.
I look around his office and think. It’s nothing like the psychiatrist offices you see on TV. His desk is small and gunmetal gray. No leather sofas or big plants or piles of books. Just some crappy artwork on the one wall and the same orange plastic chairs as in the cafeteria.
“Are you mad at them, Victor?” he repeats.
I’m still thinking. Not sure how to answer. Am I mad at my parents? I don’t know if “mad” is the right word. I proceed cautiously. “Why are you asking me that?”
He lifts his head and tilts it to the right. And he stares at me. Great, he’s waiting for me to talk. I don’t want to talk to him. I just met him. I’m not spilling my guts to him. He doesn’t know me. Who am I kidding, no one knows me. No one. Well, maybe Nikole, but we just met.
What the hell.
“Yes,” I say.
“And why is that?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. This is hard.
“Well, you are the only one who would know, son,” he says gently. “I certainly wouldn’t presume to know how you feel.”
I’m glad he’s perked up and not breathe-talking anymore. I can actually understand him now. But I still don’t want to answer him. This is way too hard. He’s waiting for me to talk again. I can’t look at him, so I drop my eyes and focus on my slippers.
“I guess I think it’s wrong that they didn’t come home from their trip. You know, even after what I did.” I stop there. That’s pretty big for me. The doctor doesn’t say anything. More silence. He probably planned this whole thing: the question, the waiting, the silence. I look up at him, and he’s nodding, like he agrees with me. Well, I’m not sure if he agrees with me. I keep going.
“How could they stay there and have fun?”
“That’s a good question, Victor. How could they do that?”
He’s definitely agreeing with me. This gives me a little confidence, like I’m right, like he’s going to call my idiot parents and yell at them. Oh, how I’d like to sit and listen to that.
“I tried to kill myself, and my parents are over in Europe deciding what chardonnay to have with dinner. My mother is probably shopping all day, filling up their hotel suite with Louis Vuitton bags and Chanel suits, when she should be here at home, filling up her life with me,” I say. I start blinking a lot. The tears are trying to get out. I think the blinking is working to hold them in.
“Something in your eye?” he asks.
I suck in some air and tell him I’m fine. I wonder if one of his eyebrow hairs has ever gotten in his eye. Wow, those things are creatures.
The doctor asks me how I feel about my parents’ actions. Duh, didn’t I just tell him that? But he’s waiting for me to speak again.
“I feel . . . invisible.”
Bull
IF WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK TO ANYONE OUTSIDE the ward till the fourth day, and it’s only the second day, how is Frank getting in here? I wonder if Frank is married. Will I be able to find my dad when I get out of here? Why can’t I get Victor’s voice out of my head? Why does Lacey say “I swear” so much? I’ll never admit it out loud, but I think Andrew could take me. I wonder how much Pop has been drinking. Where is the gun? Did my uncle get it back? Has my mom been functioning out there? Why did I have to have her as a mother? I wonder what the kids at school said about me on the last day. Did they even notice I wasn’t there? Or care? I wish Ellie were ten years younger. If that girl with the notebook would wash her hair, she’d be hot too. What the hell does she write about? I wonder what’s for breakfast tomorrow. . . .
My brain won’t shut off. I’ve been trying to fall asleep for the past three hours, and my brain is boiling over with shit. It is so hard to get comfortable with a bum leg and a bum arm. I wish I took the Tylenol at dinner. My leg is throbbing. This sucks.
They keep our doors open, so it’s never really dark in here. I grab Frank’s Post-it and read it again. He misses me. I like reading those three words. Since my brain is going right now, I picture a scene. Him, coming to visit me, telling me he’d like to adopt me, me saying yes, leaving with him, and living in a real house with a yard and a porch with a swing. He has a bedroom with a bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a closet all ready for me. His wife is there, and she’s baked cookies to welcome me. She looks like the best grandmother ever, with an apron and flower dress and a big smile. She hugs me and tells me I must be starving. I tell her I am. Frank puts his arm around my shoulder and says I’m in luck, because his wife is the best cook in the world. She smiles and pats his cheek with love. I let out a big sigh and look around my new house. I realize it smells good, and it’s warm and clean and has two really nice people in it. It’s perfect.
I smile in my hospital bed. Then I snap out of it. That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever thought of. When I get out of here, I’m going straight to the shore. And if I can’t find my dad, well, then I’ll live on my own. I can get a job and get a room for cheap in one of those backpacker places. Maybe I’ll even go to school, if I feel like it. But I know one thing for sure: I am not going back to my apartment. Ever. Those two can rot in hell for all I care.
Still not sleeping.
I would give anything for a book right now. I’m so desperate, I wouldn’t even care if Victor saw me reading. Tomorrow I am definitely asking Ellie to get me a magazine or something to read.
I reach for the poem. This time I focus on the second half of the poem. I like that half.
Children want to be loved
cherished
without conditions
restrictions
limitations
or boundaries
A child’s spirit is a fragile thing
a hollow egg
delicate and easy to shatter
Some wait to be filled
with direction
hope
Some wait for no one
they fill
themselves
up
I wish my mom and Pop knew about this poem. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference, though. They have big problems. I read the lines over and over again, because I do want to be loved. Not “Oooh, I love you, you’re so hot” love, just love. Like regular love. I’ve never thought about this before. I didn’t even know I wanted this.
But I do.
Victor
IT’S LUNCHTIME ALREADY. AS I WALK BACK FROM THE common room to pick up Bull I realize it’s day three, and that means I get to call my nana tomorrow. I really want to hear her voice. I wonder when they’ll let me call her. In the morning? Will they make me wait till nighttime? I want to tell her I’m sorry. Sorry that she had to find me. I want her to know that.
This morning was kind of lazy, just a lot of hanging around. Bull didn’t want to go to the common room. I overheard him tell Ellie that his leg was aching and that he’d rather have breakfast in bed.
Now I’m sitting on my bed waiting for Bull when he says, “Yo, I’m ready,” from his side of the room.
The way he said it makes me want to punch him in the face. Why is he always so damn condescending? Well guess what, scumbag, what if I’m not ready?! What if I don’t want to roll you around here like we’re best friends?! What if I’d like to push you and your wheelchair down a flight of stairs? What . . .
“YO! Did you hear me? I said I’m ready.”
I take a really deep breath and clench my jaw. I swear to God I’m going to crush my teeth into tiny pieces. I don’t say a word to him. I pull my curtain back, get behind his wheelchair, and push him toward lunch. Ellie had said that he should eat with everyone today even though he’s still in a wheelchair, because it’s better that way. She said they have a higher table all ready to go for him. Who cares?
I know I don’t.
I push Bull into the cafeteria and then let go of the handles. Job done. He’s on his own now. The wheelchair rolls a few feet and he puts his good leg down to stop from crashing into his special table.
Kell has her head down, playing with her macaroni and cheese. I’m glad she doesn’t see me because I’ve already chickened out. I can’t talk to her. I tell Nikole I’m going to get some food. On my way back I see Brian is now sitting with Bull at his “special” table, which is really just a smaller, raised-up version of the table we’re all at. Except he doesn’t have the tablecloth and dead flowers.
I’m sitting with my tray when Nikole asks me what kind of guy William is, as a roommate.
Do I tell her I know him? Do I tell her he’s tortured me since I’ve been a little kid? Do I tell her he’s one of the reasons I tried to kill myself? Do I tell her I hate him more than any other person alive?
I can’t dump all that on her. I don’t even know her that well.
“I don’t know,” I reply.
“Well, you live with him, don’t you have an opinion of him?” she pushes.
“We don’t talk much.”
“Oh,” she says. “That’s kind of weird. Don’t you think? I mean, you’re like five feet away from him and you guys don’t talk?”
“Nope,” I say, and pay extra attention to my macaroni and cheese.
Lacey leans in and whispers, “I think he’s kinda hot, I swear. I mean, he’s all injured and stuff, but he’s got those huge green eyes and long eyelashes. I’ll bet he’d look even hotter if he let his hair grow out, I swear.”
I think I’m going to get sick. I swear.
“Anyone who ends up in a wheelchair after a suicide attempt is messed up, seriously. I hope he talks in group today,” Nikole says.
I’m beginning to wonder if Nikole thinks Bull’s hot too. Why else would she care about his pathetic story? That would send me over the edge, I’m pretty sure. I decide to stop
this crap.
“He’s a jerk,” I say. I want to say that he’s a complete asshole, but I don’t want to curse in front of girls. My mother might fly back home just to slap me across my “fresh face.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have an opinion of him. Now all of a sudden he’s a jerk? I don’t get it,” Nikole says.
“Yeah, well, I’m telling you that he’s a jerk. That’s all. He’s a jerk.”
I look across the room at him. He’s smiling and eating and having a great time over there with Brian. All happy and buddy-buddy, while I’m sitting at a table with girls. God, loser runs through my veins. I push my lunch tray away; I’ve lost my appetite.
Lacey asks, “I wonder how Andrew is? Do you think he’ll be in group today?”
I shrug.
In breezes Lisa. Group is in ten minutes, so I guess we’ll all find out.
I look over at Kell, and she’s got her head down, her long black hair falling over her shoulders, and her hand is going a mile a minute. From where I’m sitting I can’t tell if she’s drawing or writing. I think she’s writing. I wonder what she’s writing. What could possibly hold her attention for such long periods of time? I haven’t seen her interact with anyone. Well, except for the fingers she gave Bull.
Kell looks up at me and we lock eyes. She breaks the stare in a split second, but it was just enough time for me to see some serious pain in her eyes. A deep blackness.
I can relate.
Bull
VICTOR HAS TURNED INTO THE DWEEB LADIES’ MAN in the psycho ward. That’s funny. He’s always with the chicks. Not me, nah.
At school that kid never said a word to anyone; now he’s making his moves over lunch. Funny. I wonder what he’s talking about over there with those girls. The one girl keeps looking over at me and smiling, the one who always says, “I swear.” She’s not bad-looking, kind of cute. I think her name’s Libby or Lucy or something. Whatever. I don’t want a girlfriend. Can you imagine me taking a girl back to my apartment?
Libby, this is my alcoholic grandfather. Better duck, he hits hard. And this here is my mother. Yeah, I know, she looks young. She had me when she was seventeen. Oh, you want something to eat? Well, let’s see, how about a piece of moldy bread with . . . yeah, with nothing. Sit down. Oh, careful, that’s my bed. Yeah, my bed. This is my bedroom and the living room. Don’t mind Pop, he always throws beer cans at me. Pop, don’t punch me when my girlfriend’s here. Pop! Really, stop punching me! Stop hitting me, you asshole!
What a date. I’d be the perfect boyfriend.
Not.
Brian seems all right, and he’s kind of funny.
“Guess what? I have good news. I added up how much me, my sister, my mom, and my dad weigh, and it is, like, 10,641 pounds less than an elephant,” Brian says with a smile.
I’m not sure if I should laugh or not.
“I’m serious. You know how many times I’ve been called an elephant?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Probably, like, 10,641 times. But now, whenever some tool calls me an elephant, I can tell him to stick it up his ass, because my whole family put together doesn’t weigh as much as one elephant. How ’bout that for good news?”
When Brian laughs, I figure it’s okay for me to laugh too. So we’re both laughing. It feels really good to laugh.
“And I’m getting out of here after group today,” Brian says.
“Nice.”
The therapist lady comes in and tells us group starts in ten minutes. Right away I wonder if Andrew will be there and if the double-finger girl will talk today. She’s sitting over there in the corner with her notebook and her pen. I really want to know her deal. I can tell she thinks she’s all badass with her dyed jet-black hair and her evil glances, but she doesn’t scare me. No one scares me.
I take a piece of broccoli from my lunch tray and wing it across the room. It lands perfectly in her lap. Score.
She flies up, book and pen clattering to the floor, looks around, sees me smiling and waving, and throws it back at me. Nice arm. The broccoli makes it back to me, hitting me in the shoulder. She’s giving me the finger—times two again—and then storms toward me.
She leans over and says right in my ear, “I wish the gun worked and you died.”
Wow. Nice.
She gives me the twofer again, walks back to grab her notebook and pen, then storms past me and is gone.
I notice two things. One, she has breath that smells like vanilla. Two, her eyes are the coolest green color I’ve ever seen. Well, really, I notice three things. I also got a clear view down her shirt when she leaned in. And let’s just say she’s got a rockin’ chest.
Holy shit.
Victor
TYPICAL THAT BULL’D PICK ON THE WEAKEST PERSON in the room. Honestly, I don’t know why that broccoli wasn’t thrown at me. He should’ve thrown it at me. Not Kell. She doesn’t even know him.
Listen to me. I’m rationalizing that I should be bullied. I am sick.
Everyone is putting away their trays and walking over to group. Brian wheels Dirt Face over, so I’m off the hook. Thank God. I really don’t know if I could’ve controlled myself. He makes me sick.
Andrew is already in the group room, sitting in the same seat as yesterday, but he’s not alone. There’s this huge muscle-bound orderly sitting behind him, against the wall. I’m guessing he’s there to make sure Andrew keeps his anger under control.
But then the orderly gets up and tells Lisa he’ll be standing right outside if she needs him. I guess he can’t be in the room for group. Probably something to do with patient privacy and stuff.
“Oh, Jimmy, we’ll be fine,” Lisa says.
Lisa gets group going and we’re off. While she’s talking, I notice that Bull has positioned himself n
ext to Kell in the circle. I swear, if he messes with her during group, I . . . I . . .
I won’t do anything.
Kell’s body language screams, Get away from me! She’s sitting on one butt cheek, legs crossed away from him, arms crossed too, whole body facing the other direction, including her head. I see her journal is lying right under her chair. And he’s just sitting there with a smug grin on his face, staring at her, like he wants to take a bite out of her.
Lacey starts today and goes into how much she hates her mother and her mother’s boyfriend. Again. The whole story. Again. We all listen. Well, I’m not really listening. I keep stealing glances over at the Bull/Kell scene across the circle. She hasn’t moved a muscle since group started. I wonder if her legs are cramping. Mine would. Bull hasn’t broken his stare either. He’s not even pretending to listen to Lacey’s story. Again.
Lacey finishes talking. More tissues for her.
Nikole reaches over and squeezes her knee. She is so cool. Lacey gets up and hugs Nikole. More tears.
Lisa just lets this all happen.
Then they go back to their seats and sniffling is the only sound.
“So, William, Kell. What seems to be going on over there?” Lisa says. She is a bold woman.
Kell ignores her. Bull snaps out of his attack stare. “Nothing.”
“Really? Nothing? I’m not so sure you’re being honest, William. Kell? Would you like to share today?” Lisa pushes.
It’s like Kell’s wrapped in some invisible tape. She doesn’t move. It doesn’t even look like she’s breathing.
“Okay, Kell, you don’t want to share today. That’s fine. But know this, we are all in pain in this room. Every patient here has gone through tremendously difficult times. Do you realize that? That we’re all hurting?”
Kell doesn’t move.
Lisa purses her lips and does a small nod. “William? Would you like to?”
“Nah, I’m good,” he says.
Andrew comes alive and laughs. He says that if Bull were good, he wouldn’t have a hole in his leg and a cast on his wrist or be sitting in this circle.
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