When we get back into the recreation area, Rhett plops down on the floor near the TV stand. “My dad is a fucking asshole. I honestly don’t know why he bothers coming to see me.”
I sit next to him. “Yeah, I get it. My parents are the same. Therapist Angel has banned mine from seeing me for a few weeks.”
He quirks an eyebrow and laughs. “Wish she’d ban mine.”
“I’ll see if I can use my charm and sway her. Or maybe I can get my hands on her fuzzy magic wand ….” My fingers trace a small tear in my jeans. “I’m sorry your dad’s a dick.”
He peers at me from beneath his floppy bangs. “Thanks. I’m sorry for your parents too. Too bad we can’t just divorce their asses and find new ones.”
I nod, then lean back against the wall. “You know a part of me wants out of here so bad. To be able to go sit in the grass, to feel the sun on my face—maybe go swimming at the lake or something. Then the other part dreads having to go back home. Back to everything that got me here. The people. My family. The pressure.”
“I know. Trust me, I know.” Rhett glances at me. There’s pain in his eyes. Pain that runs deep. Possibly as deep as the chasm in me.
And for some reason, I want to help him. But I’m not sure if I can be strong enough to pull two of us out of the darkness. However, I promise myself that I’ll try.
Today I became aware of two things. One. Ky is definitely a light in the bleakness. Even though he’s in the real world and I’m here, I feel as though we’re a lot alike. And number two, Rhett Jakoby needs me. Like a knight needs a sword to slay the dragon. He walks the same dark paths I do. For once, I feel as though I might hold the flashlight for us to get out.
Light and dark—always the same battle.
Chapter Nine
The Happy Rainbow Farting Unicorn List Number 2: Learning to Ride My Bike
I tuck my legs beneath me and lean back against the arm of the couch, in the hall overlooking the grounds below. This is one of my favorite places at the institution. I don’t get to sit out here by myself very often. Normally there’s someone occupying the space. But today, most of the patients are watching some new movie that I have no interest in seeing. A cartoon.
And PJ is seeing the doctor for a med check. Apparently, the staff isn’t sure if hers are working. Which might explain the more recent freak-outs she’s had. Either that or douche bag Michael’s comments are finally starting to get to her. With a sigh, I stare at snatches of the sky and pull my notebook out. I haven’t written anything since I added Josh to my D.B. List. A memory, I need to forget. So, I fumble with my crayon and grab out my Happy Rainbow Farting Unicorn List. I don’t want every thought I put on paper to be negative. I mean, there are happy memories too. They’re just fewer and further between. If I’m going to have any chance getting out of here, I have to get these lists done. Not that my finishing them is going to be my golden ticket out, but it at least evens the odds a bit. So, here’s to Alex, my big brother. Who not only saved my life when he found me a few weeks ago but has always been the slayer of my demons—the constant comforter of my tears, fears, and low self-esteem.
Tears stream down my face, as I sit on the porch step, wiping blood from my scraped-up knee. Everyone else in second grade knows how to ride a bike. Their moms and dads have taken time out to show them. But not mine. Mine are always too busy. So, I have no one to hold me steady when I pedal. No one there to catch me before I fall. I’ve already tried like a hundred times to do it.
My eyes narrow as I glare at my blue and white bike with the cotton candy-colored streamers dangling from the handlebars. My stuffed bear, Koda, has fallen out of the basket and lays on the ground next to my bike. With a sob, I pick him up and dust him off, hugging him tight to my chest. Mom stands at the window on her phone talking to one of her clients and doesn’t even notice me. I wish Grandpa were here because he’d help me. But he’s helping my Aunt Mamie move into her new house by the lake today. Maybe sometime she’ll invite me to come see it.
The door opens, then slams shut behind me. “Hey Ellie, what’s wrong?” Alex plops down beside me and hands me a cookie.
Alex is one of my favorite people, like Grandpa. He always makes me feel better. He’s five years older than me—Mom says he’s mouthy now that he’s thirteen, but I don’t think so.
“I-I can’t ride my bike. I keep trying.”
He uses the sleeve of his shirt and wipes the blood off my knee. “Aw, it’s okay. If you want, I can help you. I don’t have soccer practice until later.”
I sniffle, then take a bite of the cookie he gave me. “Okay. But promise you won’t let me fall?”
“I promise.” He smiles and ruffles my hair.
I pretend I don’t like it when he messes up my ponytail, but secretly I don’t mind so much.
Alex boosts me up, then reaches down to set my bike upright. Once we get Koda settled in my basket, my brother helps me refasten my helmet. I climb onto the seat of my bike, my feet resting on the pedals.
“Okay, I’m going to hold the seat for you, while you practice riding around.” Alex grabs the back of the bike, keeping me steady.
I don’t want to be a cry-baby, but I worry. Last time I tried, I fell. “Promise you won’t let go?” I say again.
He smiles. “I won’t let go, Ellie. Now make sure to steer, we’ll go to the end of the sidewalk by Mrs. Macker’s house, and then come back.”
I nod at him. My feet push down on the pedals, and I wobble, but Alex corrects me and we move together down the sidewalk. Then we come back. We do this several times, and Alex is right there with me. Then he’s not. He let go and I’m riding my bike, by myself.
“Alex,” I screech. “Look, I’m doing it.”
He laughs. “I know, now watch where you’re going. Remember to use the brakes when you want to stop.”
I make it back to our driveway, and skid to a stop, nearly falling to the ground, but Alex catches me. “I did it. I really did it. Now I can ride my bike like everyone else.”
“Why don’t you show me again.” Alex follows me, this time without holding on.
And I do it again, although I nearly collide with a parked car, I’m still riding.
When we make it back to the house again, I climb from my bike and hug Alex. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You love me, right? Not like Mom and Dad,” I say, staring at him.
He frowns. “I will always love you, Ellie—and deep down, Mom and Dad love you too, they just suck at showing it.”
“You mean how they miss your games?”
“Yeah. Like that. Now come on, why don’t you ride some more. I still have thirty minutes until practice.”
When I finish writing, I smile at the memory. I miss Alex. He hasn’t been to visit me yet. I hope maybe in the next week or so he’ll be allowed to stop by. Everything at home had been worse since he left for college. He isn’t there to be the buffer between Mom and me, or to step in when my parents are irrational about my future. Then again, he has his own issues with them. But like a dutiful son, he’s actually following my parents’ dreams for him to be an attorney like them.
He says he just doesn’t want to argue with them anymore. It makes me sad because he’s an awesome writer. He won some awards in college for some short stories and essays he entered to earn more scholarship money. However, both he and my older sister Izzy don’t want to rock the boat with the parental units. The same can’t be said for me. I’m more like Aunt Mamie, Mom’s sister—I’m the black sheep of the family. I want to do my own thing. Maybe I’ll have the courage to finally tell Mom and Dad that I don’t want to be an attorney. Maybe I’ll live off the land somewhere and just paint or do art.
I shut my notebook and see PJ heading toward me. She frowns as she sits on the couch next to me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“The doctor is dumb, he’s dumber than dumb, dumb, dumb,” she says, turning to look at me. “He wants me to tak
e more medicine, those little pills. The ones that make me sleepy all the time, and make me ill.”
I’m not sure what to say to this because I want PJ to get better and not have so many hallucinations or freak-outs. But I also don’t want her so doped up that she can’t even do normal things.
“That sucks. I wish there was something I could do,” I say, tucking my knees under my chin.
“There is something you can do… make the monsters go away, tell them to leave me alone, that they can’t stay.” PJ’s stares at me, hopeful.
As much as I want to kill all of her monsters, I know I don’t have that kind of power. “I’ll try my best Penny Jean Laramie.” And I will. I’ll try to keep her calm and keep Michael away from her. I’ll also draw her more pictures. Then I think about Therapist Angel and how she tells me that I can’t always help everyone. Which doesn’t mean I won’t try.
“You’re the best sister friend, until the end …” PJ smiles again, and that’s all I need.
Chapter Ten
My fingers run over the box of charcoals as I sit behind an easel. I’ve been waiting for art all week. Excitement races through my veins as I pick up one of the black chalky sticks. In my head, I picture Ky. The way his floppy hair falls over his forehead. How his lip curls up into a perfect smile. I close my eyes, imagining every detail of his face.
Soon my hands are flying as I draw him. I shade in the contours of his cheeks; then I move to the rest of him. Remembering the way each of his muscles flexed or moved when we played chess, or how the light seemed to touch him.
I’m so focused, that I don’t notice PJ come and sit by me.
“You made Ky with wings, I think of him as an angel too, and all those magical things.”
It’s then I realize PJ’s right. I’ve made him into an angel. Giant feathered wings spread out behind him, as he levitates in the air. I use my finger to blend in the charcoals as I try to get his bare chest just right. My head cocks to the side, and I bite my lip in concentration.
For some reason, I sketch in a sword. Because in my mind, he’s helping me fight my darkness, whether he’s aware of it or not. I guess we all need a hero and I want him to be mine.
“Do you like it?” I ask PJ, as I give it another critical eye.
My heart races, it’s like he’s right here with us.
“Yes. It’s perfect as can be, can we hang it in our room, Ellie?”
“Sure.” Although, I’m not sure how much sleep I’ll get seeing him like this.
Rhett saunters up to us too. He leans over the back of my chair. “I’d do a little more shading in the wings, to give it some more contrast. Maybe throw something into the background, like trees, or something. It’ll make the angel stand out more.”
I glance at my picture again. And he’s right. It needs just a little more something added. “Thanks. Sometimes it’s hard to step back and notice things.”
“No problem. Either way, this is really good Ellie,” he says. “You capture a lot of emotion.”
My gaze meets his. He’s got a good eye for art, and I find myself wanting to see some of his work. “What are you working on?”
He gives me a lopsided grin and shrugs. “I’m doing a watercolor right now. But it’s not ready to be seen yet.” He holds up stack of watercolor paints.
“Well, when you’re done I want to see it.”
“I want to see too, all the pretty things you can do …” PJ says.
He looks from her to me and nods. “I’ll show it to you when I’m finished.”
After he walks back to his area, PJ nudges me. “Is he your boyfriend too?”
“What?”
“Rhett. Do you like him?”
“He’s nice and cute in a kind of dark, bad boy kind of way, but it’s not like that with us.” Or at least I hadn’t considered it yet.
PJ watches me then smiles. “It’s because you’re already in love that’s why, with Ky, Ky, the cookie guy.”
My cheeks warm, but I don’t tell her I haven’t known Ky long enough to be in love. We’ve only talked a couple of times. Not just that, I’m stuck in here, while he’s in the real world. And I made a promise to myself not to fall for anyone. I’m not strong enough right now to face another broken heart.
After thirty more minutes, our “crafts leader” claps her hands together. “Well everyone, that’s it for art time today. If you want to leave any unfinished pieces where they are, you can work on them next time. And if you’re done and want to take yours with you, please check with me first to make sure it’s okay.”
I set my charcoals back down, already missing the feeling of them in my hands. I sigh. At least mine is finished. But the itch to draw more is consuming. When I reach Ms. Lemmon, she peers down at my work. Her eyes widen.
“Ellie, this is amazing. I didn’t realize you were such an artist.”
“Thank you. Am I allowed to hang it in my room?”
She glances at a sheet of paper on her desk and nods. “Yes, you may. Can’t wait to see what you do next week.”
PJ follows close beside me as we make our way to the door. But before we can step out, Michael is there. He glowers at me as he glances at my artwork. “You can’t draw pictures of him; I don’t like him.” He snarls.
He grabs hold of my paper and tears it down the middle, dropping it to the floor. Anger bubbles inside me. My fists clench, my legs tremble beneath me. What the fuck is wrong with him?
“You fucking dick head. That was mine.” Not thinking rationally, I draw back my hand then punch him in the face.
He howls as his nose spurts blood. The orderlies are beside us in an instant. PJ shrieks, and reaches for my picture.
Nurse Ruthie secures my arm. “What’s going on here?”
“Michael ripped up my artwork.” Tears burn my eyes. I’d waited all week for art, to put Ky’s image on paper, and now it’s destroyed.
“Michael? Did you take Ellie’s drawing?”
He wails holding his nose. “No, I tore it up. I hate it. I hate the guy on it. But she punched me.”
“Ellie?” Nurse Ruthie glances back at me.
“Yes, I hit him. He had no reason to take my shit. He’s fucking creepy as hell …”
“Ellie, go with Sam.” A big guy who looks more like a bouncer than an orderly takes hold of my arm and leads me away.
“Don’t worry Ellie I’ll take care of it, I’ll tape it up and fix it,” PJ calls after me.
Over her shoulder, I see Rhett. He watches me as I’m jerked out of the art room. Anger swims over his features. Not sure if he’s mad at Michael or at me for being a dumb ass and getting in trouble.
Sam leads me to the gym area. Inside is a tall black woman; her name is Journette. Journey for short.
I see her around but have never actually talked to her. “Nurse Ruthie wanted me to bring Ellie in to see you. She got into a fight.”
Journey looks up from where she stands with a line of girls. I’m not sure what they’re doing. But some of them are screaming cuss words and throwing stuff against the wall.
“And what got you so worked up?” she asks.
“A guy named Michael ripped up my art work.”
“Is that all, honey? Is that the only thing that’s got you worked up?”
Well, there are lots of things pissing me off at the moment. The fact that Haydon Barber screwed me up so badly. The fact that my parents are assholes. That my life isn’t always my own. So many thoughts scream in my mind.
Journey goes over to her desk, opens a drawer and pulls out a small tub. From inside, she grabs a ball of clay and hands it to me. “Here. I want you to take this and throw it at the wall. Whatever it is that’s bothering you; I want you to imagine this clay being that person, or that idea, or that thing. You can scream, shout, cuss, whatever you need to do to get that anger out of you. Understand?”
I nod.
The clay is kind of cool in my hand. I move to where the other girls stand, and I bring my arm back. My f
irst thought is of Josh. Of how he took my virginity. With a scream, I whip it at the wall, pretending it’s his face. I run over and retrieve it and throw it again and again, screaming and cursing and crying. In my mind, I see the faces of everyone who’s ever hurt me. Josh. Haydon. My parents. Raelyn. All the moments that have become the proverbial nail in my coffin. Losing Grandpa. Losing myself to the darkness.
A sob rakes through me as I fall to my knees and cry. Journey drops down beside me and hugs me. “I know baby girl, I know. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be pissed off. Whenever you need time to burn off some of what’s inside you, you come see me okay? Let’s not punch people, no matter how much we want to.”
I shake my head against her shoulder.
When I leave the gym, I feel as if I’m leaving some of my baggage behind me. Not all of it, but enough to get me through another day. But maybe that’s what I need to start doing. Taking it a day at a time.
Chapter Eleven
“Ellie, you have a visitor today,” Therapist Angel says, ushering me toward the couch in the hall.
My eyes well. “Alex.” I rush to him, letting him wind his arms around me. God, I’ve missed him. The familiar scent of his woodsy soap washes over me, and I let him rock me back in forth.
“Ellie.” He squeezes me tight, then pulls back. His gaze moves over me as if he’s not sure I’m really here. Although I can’t blame him, last time he saw me, I was naked, in the tub, my wrists slit open.
I swallow hard, pushing those thoughts from my head. “A-are Mom and Dad with you?” Anxiety burrows in my belly, making it knot up. Therapist Angel is already out of earshot, as she heads down the hall to chat with other families.
“No. They’re busy. Besides, they still haven’t gotten the okay from your counselor to come back after last time. Thank God for small favors, right?” He smiles, messing up my hair.
A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and I grin at him, wiping my palm across my face to dry my tears. “Yeah.” I stand there awkwardly, tugging my sleeves down, then gesture to the couch. “Do you want to sit?”
The D.B. List Page 5
