Supermarket(46)

“So Mia really does visit me? But why?”

“Because she loves you, you idiot,” she said with a smile.

“Even after all this time? After everything I did? After two years of being a basket case?”

“Flynn, you’re a good young man and she loves that man deep down. The man who Frank buried. And I’ll admit it’s hard because . . .” She grabbed a tissue and continued, “This isn’t the first time you’ve awakened. And the thought of losing you is too much to bear for us all.”

“When did you talk to her?” I asked.

“After Dr. Cross called, she was the first person I let know. But enough of this, let’s eat some breakfast.”

Instead of bombarding her with more questions—questions I’d probably asked her a hundred times by now—I decided to drop it and just spend some quality time together.

After getting out of bed and brushing my teeth, we headed to the cafeteria. My mother told me to find a table and that she would grab the food.

“Coffee, coffee, coffee,” Joe said as I walked past him.

And like clockwork, Ann approached me and plopped five pills in my hand and handed me a paper cup of water. After drinking the water, she bid me a good day. I spit out the pills, placed them in the right pocket of my brown jacket, and continued on my way.

“Up for a game, Flynn?” I heard a voice say from behind me. It was old man Red, sitting in front of his chessboard.

“I don’t know how to play,” I said.

“Ah, horseshit, of course you do. I taught you myself.”

Not sure exactly how to process this, I sat down and surveyed the board.

“Whites first,” said Red.

“Hey, man, no need to bring race into this,” I said.

“I’m talking about the pieces, boy. White pieces move first, then my red pieces go. Your move.”

Not even trying to come up with a joking reply, I just moved, picking up a pawn and placing it forward two spaces.

“So, we’ve done this before, huh?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Red said with a half smile, his eyes locked on the board, trying not to break his concentration.

“I ever beat you?” I said.

“Well, no, not yet you haven’t. Not at the game I’m playing.”

“So, are we . . . friends? I mean, you seem like a nice guy.”

“Yeah, kid, we’re friends. Been friends longer than you realize, apparently.” He leaned over, patting me on my shoulder.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” he said, moving his horse forward two spaces and one space to the left.

“Why are you here?” I asked. “You don’t look like you belong here.”

“Truth be told, young man, I don’t belong here. But I don’t belong in the outside world either.”

“Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean, Yoda?” the smart-ass in me replied.

“Me and you, we came here for the same reason,” he said.

“How long have we known each other?” I asked.

“Olivia brought you to me about three months after you were first admitted. So I’d say about a year and a half.”

“What do you mean, she brought me to you?”

“Well, you see, kid, we’ve got similar issues, similar conditions. For years I lived bouncing between two worlds. There was my ‘reality,’ then there was reality. I’d loop between the two endlessly, living inside my own illusory world for weeks at a time. There are a few others here like us, but I’m the only one in here who has fully escaped the delusion.”

“How . . . how do I escape?” I asked, unsure if I was prepared for the answer.

“Well, every time we seem to get near that point, that son of a bitch Frank pulls you back in the loop. He needs you there in order to survive. Then we start over,” Red explained.

“What’s the longest I’ve been outside the loop?” I asked.

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks! Two weeks, that’s it? Are you serious?”

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve never seen you awaken so well. Something about you . . . you seem more centered this time.”

“Hey there!” my mom called. “Come here, Flynn . . . you can play chess later.”

“But Mom, I was—”

“We’ll talk later, son,” Red said. “Enjoy breakfast with your mother. I ain’t going nowhere.”

After breakfast, my mom gave me a big hug and a brown paper bag with my lunch in it.

“Mom, can’t I go home with you?” I asked.

“Honey, the court ordered you here and you haven’t been discharged. Until you have it in writing from the doctor that you can rejoin society, you have to stay. I’m sorry. I know you can do it this time! I just know it!”

“I understand, Mom. I love you.”

Deep down, I hated the situation I was in. Who wouldn’t?

“I love you too, baby! Oh, and we are coming up on a year since your book was released, so . . . I baked you a cake!” she said, grabbing a cake from her tote bag. It was iced in blue frosting with the word Congratulations written in red on top.

“Wait, WHAT?!” I shouted