In Sight of Stars(23)

I shake my head and look away, embarrassed at how lovesick I sound. I don’t know why I’m telling her all this. And yet now that I’ve started, I don’t want to stop. It’s like I need to. I need to go back there myself to know I didn’t imagine it. That I wasn’t crazy.

That she liked me as much as I thought she did.

*

“Can I kiss you?”

Sarah jerks her gaze back to me, her face damp and sparkling, then tilts her head back and bursts out laughing. When she straightens again, she says, “Jesus, Alden, you’re adorable. You’re asking me if you can kiss me? You’re just supposed to do it.” Then she takes my hand and leads me definitively across the terrazzo to the grass, and pulls me down onto her, and we make out intensely, just like that. No further conversation, no fanfare. Just her and me, our tongues mixing, our bodies pressed tightly together in the middle of Central Park. Me, desperate beyond desperate with wanting her.

I’m not usually one for public displays of affection, but she started it. And, I’m so freaking happy and awake now that she has, that I’m pretty sure I won’t ever be the one to calm us down. This, now, here, is everything. She is everything. Like a vacuum and an eddy and a tornado all mixed up together, pulling me down, but lifting me up, swirling us like a tumult through eternity.

*

“I can’t explain it,” I say sheepishly to Dr. Alvarez. “I know I sound na?ve, but it was like…” I search for the words. “I had been so checked out before, but I didn’t know it. And, then, there I was, for the first time in a long time, feeling totally happy and alive again. That’s it, I think: alive. And I remember thinking, ‘I don’t want to move from here. I just need to stay here. I never want to go back there, to Northhollow.’”

“But you did have to,” Dr. Alvarez says, nodding in understanding. “You had to go back. Bring her home. Go to school. Go about your routine. And some things work better in a vacuum.”

“What do you mean?”

She glances at her watch. “We need to stop for today. I’m glad you’ve opened up. You shared a lot, and I know it’s hard to talk about this, so I appreciate your willingess to try. In the meantime, it doesn’t sound crazy, Klee. None of it sounds crazy. It sounds like you and Sarah had found an important connection, one she wanted. It sounds like she probably cared for you deeply.”

I shrug, but my heart aches.

K EE HA WOO . I haven’t told her that part yet.

Her words, that she spoke. That she wrote.

How badly I wanted to believe that they were true.

Day 4—Evening

“So, you didn’t come to group today?” Martin asks as if he doesn’t know the answer already. He takes a bite of his sandwich, chews for a while, and waits. Then he says, “You really should come.” Sabrina kicks him under the table with a thud. “Ow! What? He should. It’s useful.”

I sit, tray heaped with food there’s little chance I’m going to feel like eating.

“I didn’t feel much like talking. Dr. Alvarez said it’s fine if I’m not ready.” Martin’s gaze moves to mine, and suddenly I feel lame telling a twelve-year-old I’m not ready. If he can go, I should be able to, right? I wonder if Martin sees Dr. Alvarez, or a different therapist. I’ve never seen him going in there, and I’m pretty sure Sabrina doesn’t since she’s always at the other end of the hall. If there’s more than one therapist here, I feel lucky to have gotten Dr. Alvarez. I can talk to her, at least. As much as I don’t really want to talk to anyone.

Sabrina nods and pushes her tray away. “Take your time. Don’t let the Mayor of Madness here pressure you.” I laugh. Sabrina is quiet, but she packs a punch. “But you should eat,” she says, nodding at my untouched meal. “I’ve never seen you eat when you’re in here.”

“I haven’t been hungry.”

“I’m always hungry,” Martin says. “I can eat through anything, pretty much. Earthquakes, tornadoes, suicide attempts. My mother’s boyfriend going to town on me with some endless string of verbal assaults.”

“Martin!” Sabrina glares at him. “Why do you have to be like that?” She shakes her head and turns to me. “I swear it’s for shock value, or something. Even Dr. Howe said—”

“It’s a defense mechanism,” Martin cuts in. “Psychology 101. I say crap because it helps me to process it. So, I really can’t worry about whether it’s bothering you.” He turns to me. “So, enough about my troubles, what happened to you?” He indicates my bandaged ear. “You never did tell us. If you want to, of course. No pressure.” He makes bug eyes at Sabrina.

Sabrina rolls her eyes. “Way to be subtle, Martin.”

Ignoring his question, I bite into my sandwich, then, even though I’m not sure I want to know, ask, “Wait … Suicide attempts?”

“Well, more like ideations, I guess. I’ve mapped them out, but never really attempted to carry them out. But I’m pretty sure I want to.”

“I’m sorry. That’s awful. Don’t think that … You have no idea…” I look away. I don’t want to share anymore.

Martin shrugs. “It’s okay. At least my mom figures it out before and brings me here.”