The wind was silent now. Rowan’s thoughts lingered on the garden and whether or not he and Lorena would even be able to find any seeds, but he didn’t want to fret about the little details when he was supposed to be relaxing. Lorena, likewise, was absorbed by the idea of a garden that lined the entire block, stretching as far as her eyes could see. Fruits, vegetables, grains of all kinds—all to keep them sustained. Chamomile, ginseng, aloe vera—all to help those in need. Dandelions, sunflowers, pear blossoms. Pink, white, mauve carnations. Blue, purple—and of course—white lilacs.
There was going to be so much color in this neighborhood, and Lorena’s imagination began to fork off in different directions. She wanted to paint the houses and buildings with vibrant hues of gold and green. She wanted to hang vivid paintings along the walls of every home. She wanted a vast library to hold the knowledge of the new world.
“Rowan,” she said, interrupting her thoughts. “Do you think we’ll be okay?”
The boy closed his eyes, picturing the same garden that Lorena had dreamed of just moments earlier. It danced through his memory—a remedy for the poison that plagued his mind. It made him happy. It made him feel alive. It made him feel like there was something more to fight for—a life after all the destruction. A life that rose from the ashes.
Rowan opened his eyes and took one last glance at the moon before turning to Lorena with a bright and gracious grin that the girl had never once seen from him.
“I think we’ll be just fine.”
21
As Rowan finished typing up the final words to his novel, a wave of relief rushed through him. He had changed. He was not the same boy that he was when he first checked into the mental hospital. He had written a story that would stay with him forever, and as it channeled through him like a brutal mixing of colors, he emerged from its intensity with a bright, new hue.
In reality, only two days had passed since he was taken away from Fairfax High School. He had listened intently to Dr. Robinson’s advice to write and re-frame his thoughts, and though he didn’t quite believe that it would work, something really did change within him. He created a story of life, and in this harsh, honest vision, everything became much clearer. This tale wasn’t fictional at all, even though everyone else would see it that way.
To Rowan, this book wasn’t a story of what the world could be like—it was a story of how the world really was. It was terrifying, hostile, and unforgiving. It never did him any favors, and in it, he was passive, unmoving, confused, and afraid. But stories could change. And in this new, real, story that was waiting for him, absolutely everything was about to change.
Rowan always thought that he needed to find answers about the world. But he didn’t need to do that at all—what he needed to do was understand himself, because the answers to the questions that tormented him were never about what was out there, but rather what was within him. He hadn’t solved everything, of course, but he knew where to look now.
He sent the novel to himself through an email. He then rose from his seat and stretched out his legs, both of which had gone numb from hours of sitting. How was Allie going to react when she saw him? It was a bit unnerving, as even though he knew that she wasn’t the type to scold him for ending up in a mental hospital, he also knew that it would change her perception of him forever. He wouldn’t only be her brother anymore—he would be someone who was sick.
As he left the writing room, he was met with a rush of cold air that was meant to cool the crowded lounge before him. Brian, the man who had talked to Rowan on the day he arrived, had been picked up yesterday by his sister as well. The boy kind of missed his calm presence, though he certainly wasn’t going to miss this place at all. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable with the people here—in fact, it was now quite the opposite—it was that he just wanted to be home to make things right.
He passed by Decker, who had nearly gotten into a fight with him the other day. The man was now sitting silently in the corner of the room, peacefully watching the nurses and doctors that walked by him. Rowan kind of felt bad for how he portrayed him in his novel, but he knew that he always had the opportunity to change it. Stories were fluid, and as Rowan learned new things about the world and about other people, his ideas and behaviors would change too.
Rowan walked into Dr. Robinson’s office and sat next to Allie, who threw herself into a tight hug with him.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine.”
“We’ve been so worried about you. They wouldn’t tell us what happened since you’re eighteen now. I didn’t even know that was a rule.”
Rowan slowly let go of her. “I’m really sorry, Allie.”
“It’s okay,” she said, wiping her eyes. “This isn’t your fault.”
Dr. Robinson pulled out a folder and handed it to Allie. “She’s right, Rowan. You don’t need to be sorry.”
“Is this about his condition?” she asked.
“Yes. Your brother signed off on letting you see everything and be a part of this meeting.”
“I get to go home, right?” asked Rowan.
“Yes,” said Dr. Robinson. “But we have to talk about next steps.”
Allie flipped through the folder. “What do we need to do?”
“First, I’ve given you a list of symptoms that are a part of what I decided to diagnose him with. I believe that Rowan has adjustment disorder, which shouldn’t be a long-term thing as long as we continue to provide him with treatment.”
“What does that mean?”
“Rowan has been having trouble with adjusting to really powerful psychosocial stressors that have been bothering him—mostly dealing with his fear of leaving home and losing people that he loves, on top of being extremely stressed out about school and college. His intense, behavioral reactions to these stressors are maladaptive in nature, and we want to make sure that he’s able to get through this in a healthy manner.”
Dr. Robinson returned Rowan’s belongings to him. “One thing we know that has been working for him is writing therapy, so I encourage you to continue writing, Rowan. We’re setting you up with a social worker at your school who you will meet with three times a week, and these stories that you write may be one of the many things that you can talk about in your meetings with your therapist.”
“Is there anything I can do?” asked Allie.
“You can be there for your brother. I know he would appreciate it.”
Dr. Robinson led both of them to the check-out area of the psychiatric ward. Rowan finished signing the rest of his release papers and waved goodbye to his doctor, who smiled at him one last time.
“You wanna go get something to eat before we start the long drive back?” asked Allie.
“No, I’m okay,” said Rowan, holding the front door open for his sister. “I think I just wanna go home and see mom and dad.”
A soft drizzle pelted the two siblings as they rushed over to Allie’s car. They sat motionless for a while, listening to the gentle pitter-patter of the rain.
“You know,” said Allie. “We don’t really talk to each other about our problems these days. I know you’ve got Caitlyn for that, but just know that I’m here for you, too, okay? I feel like I’ve failed you somehow by not reaching out.”
“It isn’t you that failed. I’m the one that messed up.”
“Either way, I’m here to support you. You always have someone to talk to, okay?”
Rowan looked out the passenger side window and began tracing the raindrops that bounced off the glass. “Do you think I’ll be okay at Harvard?”
Allie placed her keys in the ignition and turned the radio on, which was tuned to static. “I think you’ll do great there.”
“Were you scared when you had to choose what college you had to go to?”
“Of course,” she said, flipping through the different stations. “Everyone is. I was scared for you and mom and dad, which is why I stayed so close. But I think that no matter where I chose to go
, things would’ve worked themselves out. Maybe some places would’ve taken longer than others, but I think I would’ve been happy even if I had gone out of state to Oregon.”
She finally settled on a station that played classical music. “Rowan, no matter what you decide to do in life, you’ll be fine. You’re built for it.”
“Am I?”
“As much as we all are.”
It was dark by the time they made it back home. As Rowan climbed the steps up to his family’s apartment, he immediately began thinking about how school was going to go tomorrow. Were teachers going to excuse him from the assignments he missed? Or was he going to have to spend the next few days catching up? His thoughts were stopped by his mother, who had thrown the door open in anticipation of their arrival.
“I heard Allie’s car,” she said, hugging Rowan before he even had the chance to step inside. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve just been a little stressed out, mom.” He waved to his father. “But I’m better now. I promise.”
She continued holding him, almost as if she was afraid that her son was going to be gone again once she let go. “What happened?”
“Allie has a folder that says some stuff if you want to read it.”
“Maybe later,” she said, finally releasing him. “Just come inside and let’s eat.”
Rowan stepped into the apartment. “What’d you make?”
“Your favorite.”
The boy sat at the dinner table, which had already been prepared for the entire family. His mom made spaghetti a few hours earlier, as Allie had called home and told her that they would be coming soon. It was Rowan’s favorite childhood meal, and it was the one thing he would eat even if he wasn’t hungry.
It had been years since Rowan last ate with his family. Usually, he took his food over to his desk so he could study while he ate. But today was different. For once, the house was livelier and full of jokes and stories. Rowan had opened up about his fears, and this made his parents reminisce about their own experiences at his age. They never went to college, but they did know what it was like to have to move so far away from their families. After all, they had been all the way over here in the United States for years before their siblings and parents and uncles and aunts could come over from the Philippines. It finally clicked in Rowan’s mind that he wasn’t alone in his struggles, and that if his parents and so many other families were able to overcome something that seemed so impossible, then maybe he really did have it in him to do it too. He wasn’t the only child moving away from home in search of success. For the rest of time, there were going to be so many children like him, and they were all going to fight for their families to create a better life just like he was. His parents were no different from him—because they were these children too.
Everyone in his family had work or school in the morning, and yet, neither was on their minds. A happy night like this was rare. Rowan figured that things would return to normal after a few days, but he wanted this to be the new normal. No matter what, he was going to work hard to make sure that it was.
22
For the first time in months, Rowan actually woke up on time for school. He rushed outside into the warmth of the morning sun, which blinded him with bright rays that had formed mini-rainbows on the puddles along his path to Fairfax High.
The street outside Rowan’s home felt different to him, as the leaves that were normally scattered along the sidewalk were instead neatly organized into little piles across the entire block. He wanted to kick them and jump into them just like he did when he was a child, but he decided to save that idea for later. Perhaps Caitlyn would want to join him.
Rowan gave a long, hard look at the siren that sat at the corner of his street. He never really faced it before, as he made sure to avoid it every morning in fear of it going off and shattering his eardrums. It still had its signature eeriness, but the boy saw it differently now. It was something he could learn from and not just fear. He wanted to keep that in mind.
He made it to school ten minutes early—early enough to see the rush of cars dropping students off before speeding away just as quickly as they got there. Everyone looked tired and exasperated today, but not Rowan. There was a shimmer in his step, and as he walked past the hordes of listless students, he felt oddly ready today. It was a strange feeling—one that he forgot even existed.
The hallways were loud and obnoxious, but for once in his life, Rowan didn’t find it quite as annoying as it always was. As he made his way through the chaos, he decided to go find Caitlyn.
Warmth penetrated the air. Rowan’s arms brushed past moist water bottles, rustling chip bags, and chattering students—all of which didn’t process in his mind quite as clearly as the path toward his best friend’s locker. As he finally broke free from the crowd, he caught sight of Caitlyn’s dark, auburn hair.
He called out to her. She turned to him with a soft smile, the sunlight hitting her eyes to create a magical, majestic amber—a color he had missed ever since he was gone.
The girl finally managed to lift the boy out from the pile of rocks that he landed in and sat him up. The boy rubbed his back and continued to moan, his tears held tightly on the edge of his lower eyelids.
“Are you okay?” asked the girl.
“No,” cried the boy. “It hurts.”
“Should I go get my mom?”
The boy wiped his tears away. “No. She’s gonna tell us to stop playing.”
The two children sat in silence for a while, embracing the faint, gentle breeze that played through both of their hair. It calmed them down, even though all the fun was now lost. The evening’s tranquility could hardly be interrupted, and even pain had failed to stop its serenity.
The boy looked up at the tree above them and shielded his eyes from the fading sunlight that peered through the small gaps in the branches. Another leaf stripped itself away from its home, landing on top of the girl’s head. The boy grabbed it and added it to the pile below them.
“Have you ever wondered about the trees?” he asked, looking back up at the nearly naked branches.
The girl studied the tree for a moment before responding. “What about them?”
“About how they die. The leaves… they just keep on falling.”
Another leaf fell from the tree, but this time, it landed on top of the boy’s head. The girl took it and stared at it for a while before placing it in the boy’s hands.
“They do keep on falling—but they always come back. And always more beautiful, more full, and more lively than ever.”
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading my book! It has been a long journey to get this thing out there in the world. I started Seasons After Fall in 2015, back when I was still in my first year of college. It has undergone many changes since then, as it followed me through the different seasons of my life. From the moment of this book’s inception, I’ve graduated from college twice, become a teacher, and now, I’m taking my writing more serious than ever.
One of my goals is to continue growing as an author, and you, the reader, can help me do that. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving an honest review on your favorite platform. It would mean a lot to me. And again, I thank you for reading this novel, and I hope to bring more out there.
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