The Anatomical Shape of a Heart(69)

Please don’t be a mistake.

When I saw Jack’s dark pompadour come through the door, all the anxious energy bouncing around in my body coalesced into an arrow that propelled me straight toward him. He didn’t miss a beat, just opened his arms and picked me straight off my feet. All his goodness hit me at once. His lemony hair wax. The rustling noise his old leather jacket made. The solid wall of his chest and the warmth of his neck, where I buried my face.

“There you are,” he murmured in his low voice, the words vibrating through me as I clung to him, more grateful than I’d ever been. “Everything’s right in the world again.”

After a time that was too long to be polite but too short to be satisfying, I released him and slid down his body until my toes found the floor. “Did they let you come, or did you sneak out?” I asked, blinking back happy tears.

“I convinced them that suddenly stopping my visits with Jillian would be a bad idea—which is true, and they knew it. So I’m out on parole, but they’ve got a tracker on my phone. I told them six to eight, like you suggested, and they expect me home right after.”

“That’s fine,” I said, curling my fingers around his and tracing the bones on the back of his hand with my thumbs. I couldn’t not touch him. It was physically impossible. “It’s enough time—that is, if Jillian’s agreeable.”

“I cleared it with Dr. Kapoor. He talked to her, and she’s okay with it. Or she was earlier. Let’s hope she’s still having a good day.”

“If not, it’s okay. I just don’t want to upset her routine.”

“Me and you both, but all we can do is try.” He pulled me against him for a moment and kissed me several times on my head. “Ready?”

I nodded, and we headed down the hall to check in. The ward was louder and busier than it had been before. The day rooms were just closing up for the evening, and the patients on Jillian’s hall had all been fed dinner, the orderly informed us as we passed a few of them in the hallway. Even during normal business hours, the ward wasn’t a chaotic zoo, the way these wards are often portrayed on TV. Maybe it was different upstairs on the fifth floor, where they kept the patients on suicide watch and the ones who were too out of control for social privileges. I remembered Jillian saying how much she hated that floor, and I wondered how many times she’d been up there.

We rounded the corner, and just like the first time, there she was, peeking out her door. Only instead of disappearing immediately, she waved at us—just once before she slipped back inside. The orderly left us with the same instructions as last time.

I could smell the cigarette smoke before Jack opened the door. She was already sitting cross-legged on her bed, with the window cracked.

“Yo, Jillie,” Jack said brightly. “Cool if Bex comes in?”

“Yeah, yeah. I told Dr. Kapoor it was fine.” Her eyes darted to my bag before jumping around the room.

I greeted her and asked, “Did your doctor tell you why I wanted to come? That I want to draw you?”

“Yeah. Why? Is it part of Jack’s secret word puzzles?”

I was careful not to mention that he wouldn’t be doing those anymore. Jack had prepped me in advance to keep quiet about that, and about the possibly of his being sent away to boarding school. “No, it’s for an art show. It would be on exhibit, and if it’s good enough, it could win me a scholarship.”

“Why would anyone want to see me?”

“Because she wants to immortalize you,” Jack said playfully.

Jillian looked at him, then at. “Is it an art show about crazy people?”

“It’s an art show about science,” I told her. “I usually draw people for anatomy studies, but a few things have happened to me recently, and I decided I’d rather tell the story behind the body.”

She looked confused. Maybe I wasn’t saying it right. I tried again.

“I’d like to draw a couple of sketches of you today, and while I’m drawing, I was hoping you might tell me stories about things you like. You can talk about anything you want, and I’ll try to incorporate it into my work.”

“Like art therapy on Fridays with Dr. Yang?”

“Exactly like that,” Jack said, smiling. “Except you’d be more famous, because you’d get to be on display in an art gallery. I showed you Bex’s art on that website, remember?”

“Yeah. It was pretty dark. I liked it.” She laughed briefly and rubbed the heel of her palm against her thigh, back and forth, back and forth.…

“What I really want to do,” I said, “is to draw you here today, and then take the sketch home and work on it some more. And when I’m finished, I’ll get Jack to bring the drawing by and make sure you think it’s okay before I enter it in the contest.”

Jack tapped her on her shoulder to get her attention. “And if you give us the thumbs-up, the painting will go on display in Bex’s art show next week. We’ll take a photo of it hanging up. Just like I do with the word puzzles. Maybe even make a video so you can see how many people will be looking at it.”

We’d already talked about this the night when before, Jack was able to give me a quick call: He said might not even be able to go to the art show unless he found a way to sneak out. Even doing this today was risky, especially now that I knew his parents were tracking his phone. But I couldn’t dwell on it. We just had to take one day at a time and see how things played out.