In Sight of Stars(12)

And, before that?

Saturday. Dunn’s house.

The stupid party.

My stomach churns. I don’t want to think about that. I can’t if I want to get out of here.

“What about this morning?”

“Sorry?”

“This morning,” Dr. Alvarez says. “Have you been out of your room? Met the others? We have a small inpatient group … and a pretty nice dining hall here. Breakfast is best. Decent waffles.” She winks. “Passable, anyway. I wondered if you ventured down?”

“Not yet,” I say. “I ate in my room. They told me it was okay.”

She nods. “Of course. Take your time. It will all be there when you’re ready. But I’d like you to assimilate and get started in group therapy. At least by the end of the week. And, of course, family therapy. But not yet. In the next few days.”

Family. I feel dizzy again. “I’m not feeling too social,” I say.

I mess with the bandage some more, and Dr. Alvarez pulls a bright orange stress ball from the drawer. She tosses it to me and I manage to catch it this time. Rimmovin 5 (zopiclone 5 mg). “We cannot solve life’s problems except by solving them.”—M. Scott Peck.

I turn it and squeeze it in my hand. “The people at Rimmovin sure have a sense of humor.”

Dr. Alvarez smiles. “I suppose they do. Keep it. You can start a collection. One of every color.” She shifts her position and grows serious again. “So, besides the noise, tell me what else you miss about Manhattan.”

The word “Manhattan” clobbers me, suffocating me as if yards of sand have been dumped from a flatbed truck on top of me.

“My father,” I say, caving to the avalanche. “I fucking miss my father.”

The words, choked out through the grains, crush me further, finish me off, letting the whole of it bury me. I’m not ready to talk about my father. Not after everything else that has happened.

Besides, that’s what I miss about everything, not just Manhattan.

My father.

My father and Sarah.

And Sarah was the only good thing after.

*

The crow eyes me from Tarantoli’s desk, daring me to come in. On the whiteboard behind him, the date reads October 3rd.

The day I drew on Sarah’s paper.

The day Tarantoli asked me to stay after.

“She wanted to chat with you, remember?” the crow says. “Make sure you weren’t some sort of lunatic. But you are, aren’t you? You, of all people, know you can’t go messing with other people’s artwork.”

I block the crow out. I want to see Sarah. I want to go back to that day, that room, before all this other shit happened.

“Mr. Alden?” Tarantoli is waiting for me. But Sarah is up, leaving.

“I have a quiz fourth period,” I call to Tarantoli over my shoulder, “I have to study…”

“Okay, tomorrow, then,” she says, but I’m already gone, chasing after Sarah.

“The teachers go easy on you,” the crow calls after me. “Because they feel sorry for you. Because they all know why you’re here.”

I ignore it. I need to catch Sarah. I need to see the way she looks when she turns and sees me, the way she smiles, the way she takes me in completely. Like she’s open to anything. Like she doesn’t give a shit what she’s heard, or if anyone else will care.

I grab her shoulder, and she turns.

“Hey, what’s up, Alden?”

Yes! That’s it! Something in her expression. It makes my heart fill.

“She was happy to see you,” the crow says. “It surprised you that she didn’t think you were some loner weirdo like everyone else did. Like you are.”

I shoo it away. I only want to think about Sarah.

“I wanted to apologize,” I say. “I didn’t mean to touch your work. Your drawing, it was really good. I swear. I just wanted to help you a little, to, uh, loosen it up, make it less stiff, and more organic like—”

“Organic?” She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

“I don’t know. Something like that.”

“Like I said, no problem. I get it. Anyway, I liked what you did. What you said. It was too safe. It’s not so safe anymore.” She looks at me fully, studying me. Against her pale skin, her eyes are the color of one of Van Gogh’s evening skies. “So, no biggie, okay? Consider you did me a favor. Anyway, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you around.”

“She blew you off,” the bird says, returning. I shake my head. Wrong. Because the next morning, when I get to Tarantoli’s room early, Sarah is there, waiting, the only other person in the room. And, when I sit, the sides of her mouth curl up into a definite smile.

“So, she liked you. That seems clear.” I look up, relieved at how the crow has come around, but it’s Dr. Alvarez speaking, which confuses me more. I wasn’t intending to say all of this stuff aloud. “From what you’ve told me so far, your girlf—your friend, Sarah, she liked you. And she was worried. She cared you were hurt. It says here…” She rifles through the pages in her lap, “She tried to go in the ambulance with you. She wanted to go to the hospital.” I look away. I hadn’t remembered that. I was pretty out of it by then. “Of course, I don’t yet know what happened before…” I swallow hard, shake my head. “Whatever it is, Klee—or, was—it must have been pretty painful to upset you so much, to land you here. And it’s not a bad thing to cry if you need to. I bet you’ve been working overtime to hold it in. Sometimes, letting it out once and for all can help more than you’d ever imagine.”