A Five-Minute Life

by Emma Scott

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  “A girl has needs.”

  Rita glanced over her shoulder for Delia. Seeing the coast was clear, she leaned over my shoulder, our faces close in the mirror.

  “Between you and me, I think Jim would lose his mind to see you in this dress.”

  “And that’s your professional opinion. So it’s extra legit.”

  “Extra legit,” she said. She gave me a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s buy this dress.”

  I bought the dress.

  After, I bought a few little things to liven up my wardrobe—sandals, sunglasses, perfume, and a little peridot gem on a delicate gold chain from a jewelry store.

  “For Mom and Dad,” I told Delia. “Their birthstone.”

  “They were born in the same month?” Rita asked.

  I nodded. “Same day, actually. August twentieth.”

  “They were born on the same day and died on the same day,” Delia said.

  “There’s a poetry in that, don’t you think?” I asked, my throat thick. “They were meant to be together, from the very start.”

  Delia said nothing but bought a little necklace for me without complaint.

  After, we hit a Michael’s craft store and Delia spent a good wad of cash on three large canvases. Also, without argument. She felt guilty, but I wanted to tell her not to be. The past was done, and the future wasn’t created yet. All we had is now.

  And I was going to live in it.

  Just not in the Blue Ridge Sanitarium.

  But the thought of not seeing Jimmy every day hurt my heart more than I expected.

  He went into my world in order to bring me out. Maybe it’s time for me to return the favor.

  Chapter 22

  Jim

  I was outside with Mr. Perello when Thea came back from a shopping excursion with Rita and Delia, looking as if she’d been on a beach vacation. I nearly dropped the lighter as I went to light Mr. P’s smoke.

  Gone were the bulky khaki pants and shapeless tops. Thea wore sandals, shorts that revealed approximately eighty-two miles of gorgeous legs, a tank top that clung to her curves, and sunglasses. She popped bubblegum while she hauled shopping bags over her shoulders. Her blond hair was a tousled mess that I wanted to sink my fingers in to.

  She caught sight of me, lowered her sunglasses with one finger, and wiggled her pinky at me in hello.

  “Well?” Mr. Perello said from the bench. “You just going to stare at her like a dope? Say hi back.”

  But by the time I got my shit together, Thea was stepping through Blue Ridge’s front door. Delia gave me a hard look before she disappeared inside.

  “That’s a grade-A stink-eye right there,” Mr. Perello supplied helpfully.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Inside, I made my rounds, and then it was rec time. I found Thea sitting with Rita and Delia, surrounded by her doctors, just about to start a post-excursion barrage of questions.

  “How do you feel?” Dr. Chen asked. “Was it difficult to process being in a crowded place like a mall?”

  “You mean after being cooped up here for so long?” Thea replied. “No, it was easy but…”

  She found me in the corner and smiled as if we hadn’t just seen each other minutes ago; better than a million compliments. Then her smile turned sly, and she winked at me.

  “But what?” Dr. Milton prompted.

  “But… I don’t know. I feel like…” She shook her head, confusion filling her gaze.

  A few days ago, I’d panic but now I immediately knew what she was up to. I put my palm on the top of the broom and settled in to watch the performance.

  “I… I’m… my…” She worked her jaw as if it had suddenly become stiff.

  There she goes…

  “My… may…” She glanced around in a panic. “Mais, qu’est-ce qui m’arrive?”1

  Dr. Milton gave a start. “Beg your pardon?”

  I stifled a laugh in my shoulder as Thea’s eyes widened and her hands flew to her throat.

  “Je ne peux pas m’arrêter de parler français!”2

  Dr. Milton stared at Thea, his jaw opening and closing. Dr. Chen, however, crossed her arms and mutely shook her head at an intern to stop taking notes.

  “C’est normal?” Thea begged of Dr. Milton. “Qu’est ce qui cloche chez moi?”

  “There is nothing wrong with you,” Dr. Chen answered, a bemused smirk on her face. “Nice try. Four years of French, here. Et vous?”

  “Six,” Thea said with a giggle.

  “What…?” Delia stared in alarm, then slumped in her seat. “Honestly, Thea, there is something wrong with you. Very wrong.”

  Thea burst out laughing. “Couldn’t help myself. I finally found a good use for it.”

  Dr. Milton chuckled. “Quite a prankster.”

  “It gets old, trust me,” Delia said.

  “If we could get back to our evaluation?” Dr. Chen said.

  Thea shot me another smile and a sheepish shrug. I held up both hands, giving a ten-out-of-ten score, then the doctors closed in around her.

  Rita meandered over to me, her hands behind her back and a shit-eating grin on her face.

  “What?”

  “Can’t say,” she said. “Girl code. I can’t say that Thea talked about you at the mall.”

  “She did?”

  “And at the risk of sounding like we’re back in junior high, I also can’t say the words drop, dead, and gorgeous were thrown around quite liberally.”

  I inhaled the possibilities, then sighed them out. “Chapter three of the employee handbook, Rita. You know nothing can happen.”

  Between Thea and me. Us. Whatever that might be.

  “I do,” she said. “But if Thea continues to do well, she won’t be a resident much longer.”

  “Really? It’s only been a few days.”

  “I know and the doctors—not to mention Delia—are going to want to keep her for observation.”

  “Is it dangerous for Thea to leave Blue Ridge?” I asked.

  “For longer than a trip to the mall?”

  I nodded.

  “In my professional opinion? Not necessarily. If she had someone with her at all times, at least at first. And I’d prefer she have a roommate, once she gets her own place, just to be safe.” She raised her eyebrows. “Any volunteers?”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I,” she said. “Why are you asking?”

  “I don’t think she’s going to be happy here for long.”

  “Neither do I. She’s strong-willed. I don’t think any of us can talk her out of wanting her life back. But it’s too soon. Dr. Chen says so and she’s the final authority, not me.”

  “But there’s no real danger?” I asked. “Medically speaking?”

  “Honey, there’s danger in getting in a car to head to the corner store,” Rita said. “Thea knows that better than anyone. But Delia has power of attorney over her. It was set up when Thea was incapacitated.” She looked over to where Thea was answering the doctors’ questions. “Does she look incapacitated to you?”

  She looks fucking perfect.

  “Exactly,” Rita said, reading my expression.

  “So Delia has to call off her power of attorney, right?”

  “I doubt it. Ms. Hughes has been in control of every aspect of Thea’s life for the past two years.” She gave me a sympathetic glance. “She’s not going to give it up without a fight.”

  ----------

  1: What is happening to me?

  2: I can’t stop speaking French!

  Later, when I figured the doctors had cleared out, I went back to the rec room. Thea stood in front of a blank canvas, a tray of paints beside her. She turned and gave me another of her so-happy-to-see-you smiles. It sent a warm feeling through my chest and heated my blood too. Being near her was becoming something more than good. Or casual.

  I still wanted long conversations with Thea, only instead of having those talks while out on
the grounds or in the rec room, my imagination conjured her in my bed, with her hair splayed over my pillow. The morning light revealed the marks we’d put on each other’s body the night before. Her lips were swollen from my kisses, and my shoulder blades stung where she’d raked her nails. We’d talk and kiss until kissing wasn’t enough. Then I’d take her hard and she’d come undone beneath me. We’d eat and talk and kiss some more, then do it all over again. Because we had all the time in the world…

  Because she’s no longer incapacitated. She can make her own choices. I could be a choice she makes.

  I pushed the longing away and the heated thoughts that went with it. Nothing could happen, at least while she was still a resident and I was an orderly.

  “New stuff?” I asked with a nod at the canvas.

  “Yeah,” she said. “But I’m not feeling it right now.”

  “Painter’s block?”

  Thea laughed. “Exactly. Before the accident, I couldn’t go three days without painting. I’ve only done one here. One in two years. It’d be zero if not for you.”

  “They didn’t know.”

  “What did I draw?” She thought for a second. “Egyptian scenes. One after the other.”

  “You made a lot of word chains. It’s how you communicated.”

  “That was all I had. Words instead of sentences or paragraphs. No chapters in the Book of Thea.”

  She stared at the blank canvas and a shiver came over her. She hugged herself, her eyes shining.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I ruined the last painting I made… Because of him. He was making me do things. I couldn’t remember but I knew. I know that doesn’t make sense…”

  “It does,” I said. “I get it.”

  “You did,” she said, looking at me. “You knew what I was trying to say when I slashed my New York painting with black. I ruined it because he was ruining me.”

  Her voice broke on the last words, and without thinking, I put my arms around her. She clung to me a moment, before pushing herself away and wiping her eyes.

  “No more crying,” she said. “I don’t want to be inside anymore. I don’t want to be here, anymore. Inside these walls.”

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  “On the grounds? With the fences hidden just out of sight? Sure, why not?”

  But she went and once outside in the fresh air and sunshine, she heaved a sigh.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Jimmy. I’m stir crazy. I feel like I could run a marathon, but they still got me on a hamster wheel.”

  “It’s early yet,” I said. “Give them time. They need to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I know. I’m not ungrateful, just ready to move on.” She peered up at me. “What about you? Did you ever want to do something besides work at a sanitarium?”

  I started to shrug but told her the truth instead. “I wanted to be a speech therapist for kids.”

  She stopped walking, her lips parted in surprise. “That’s brilliant. Why not do that?”

  “College means more talking. It was hard enough to finish high school.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Wait, I remember now. You were bullied.” Her expression hardened. “I hate that. I hate they did that to you. But you can’t give up on your dreams, Jimmy. I know that sounds super after-school-special, but it’s true.”

  “A stutterer helping stuttering kids?”

  “A stutter makes you perfect for the job. Those kids need to see someone who’s just like them. Someone who had it tough too but made it through.”

  We came to the bench we’d sat on the other day. The one that faced the north facade of Blue Ridge and the surrounding forest beyond.

  “You don’t know how amazing you are, Jimmy, because no one’s told you.” I stiffened, but she put her hand on my arm. “It’s not pity, okay? Just the facts. You’ve helped me more than anyone. I don’t just mean with the painting and the music. I mean… that night.”

  She faced forward. Her voice was shaky, but she didn’t crumble.

  “Earlier today, Rita asked me if I wanted to talk about him and I said no. But I guess today’s the day, after all.”

  “I’m here,” I said.

  She inhaled and let out a ragged breath.

  “I know I talked a lot about Antony and Cleopatra. Constantly. I even told people I was an Egyptologist of all things. But of course, I wasn’t. I love Egypt and its history and the pyramids. Painting them was my forte before the accident. But after, I needed a story. I think it was the only way I knew to keep from going crazy. To borrow Cleopatra’s history since I had none.”

  “It makes perfect sense.”

  She nodded and smiled gratefully. “When Brett started coming at night, he told me there was no one I could call for help. Just him and me.”

  “He lied,” I said in a low voice full of grit for not realizing what he’d been doing sooner. “He lied to make you feel helpless.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “So I borrowed Cleopatra’s story. Marc Antony was dead, and she was so alone. She put her hand in the snake’s basket. And so did I. But I wasn’t alone, was I?”

  I shook my head. “No, Thea.”

  “I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” she continued. “I know it probably seemed like it. I only did it because that’s what Cleopatra did, and she was me. Her story was mine, so I told it the only way I knew how.”

  She squinted up at me.

  “You were there. You snatched my hand out of the basket. Because you heard me telling the story when no one else did.” Her voice quavered but didn’t break. “And you stopped Brett. Not just stopped him; you made him a human bowling ball and sent him crashing into my dresser.”

  “He deserved it,” I said. “I’d do it again.”

  “What was the song you sang to me after?”

  “‘I Will Follow You into the Dark.’”

  She leaned her head on my shoulder. “Will you sing it for me?”

  “Now?”

  “There is never a better time.”

  “I guess not.”

  I cleared my throat and sang to Thea as the afternoon fell toward twilight and the sky deepened to purple and orange. This wasn’t in the job description. It wasn’t in my description to feel whatever I was feeling for Thea. She was too good. It felt too good to be with her.

  Nothing good lasts…

  I finished the song.

  “You’re a beautiful singer, Jimmy.” She sniffed and sat up. “Jimmy with the kind eyes. That’s how I remembered you. Right here.” She put her hand between her breasts, over her heart.

  I nodded, staring at her mouth. Ready to kiss her. Fucking dying to kiss her. To fill my hands with her face and her hair. To delve into her mouth and taste the sweetness of her.

  But her eyes were still shining with tears over what Brett had done. I had to take care of her. That was my job.

  “We should g-g-go inside,” I said.

  “Jimmy…” But then she nodded. “Okay. I guess we should.”

  I led her back inside the sanitarium, but as the door shut behind us, I felt like I was betraying us both.

  Chapter 23

  Thea

  One week later, Dr. Milton flew back to Sydney.

  “If he can leave, why can’t I?” I asked Dr. Chen during one of my morning checkups.

  Delia sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling on her phone. Even this early in the morning, she was here, hovering over me.

  She heaved a sigh. “Here we go again.”

  I made a face at her while Dr. Chen listened to my heart.

  “It’s still too soon to know the long-term effects of the medication,” she said, looping the stethoscope around her neck. “We need you in a controlled setting for your safety. Not to mention, you’re only the eleventh candidate in the history of medical science to undergo this procedure. It’s far too early to send you off into the world without precautions.”

  “I’m fine. I feel great. I remember mo
re and more every day. I want to leave Blue Ridge, rent my own place, get a job. And if there are side-effects to the medication, I don’t want to sit around in here waiting for them.”

  I shot her my brightest, most charming smile. The one that used to make Dad melt but never worked on Mom.

  “Let me go and we’ll jump off any bridges when we get to them.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t condone that at this time,” she said and made a note in her chart.

  Dr. C’s a mom.

  “This isn’t a prison,” I said stiffly. “I’m not an inmate. I’m a patient. I should be able to leave whenever I want.”

  “I have power of attorney,” Delia said and exchanged glances with Dr. Chen. “And so long as the doctors think you’re safer here, then that’s what I want too.”

  “That made sense when I was incapacitated. But I’m not anymore. You can’t keep me here against my will.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” Delia crossed her arms. “We have to wait and see—”

  “God, Deel. If the medication stops working, it’s all the more reason for me to get out now. I need to live. I’m not sick. I’m me. I’m right here.”

  “Is this about the orderly? Is he putting ideas in your head?”

  I threw up my hands. “You know what? I’m actually capable of having my own ideas. And dreams. I want to take a trip. To New York.”

  “That’s hundreds of miles away.”

  “Do they not have hospitals in New York?” I tapped a finger to my chin. “I can’t remember…”

  Delia rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, come on,” I said, trying to lighten them up with a laugh. “It’s not like I’d be stranded in a desert if something went wrong.”

  Delia gave Dr. Chen a pleading look. “Can you reason with her?”

  Dr. Chen shifted, looked uncomfortable. “The bottom line, Thea, is that it’s far too early to gauge any long-term side-effects. I’d prefer to keep you under observation.”

  “Fine,” I spit the word. “But how long?”

  “A month, minimum. Maybe two.”

  A month? Holy fuckballs, no way.

  “I did two years,” I said, biting out each word, so they wouldn’t put me on watch. “I guess a few more weeks won’t matter.”