In Sight of Stars(4)

I bet it says how crazy I am. What I did. Maybe it says what happened with my dad.

Blood everywhere …

I block that out and try to focus. If I don’t focus I’m not going to get better. I won’t be able to see Sarah again.

“Idiot! Sarah’s done with you,” the crow calls. I can’t see the dumb bird, but I know it’s him.

But he’s right. Sarah is done with me. Sarah is the reason I’m in here.

No. Not Sarah. My mother.

My mother is the real reason I’m here.

My mother, I ask suddenly. That was yesterday? I need to hold on to the facts so I can get out of here.

“Yes,” Dr. Alvarez says. “We met briefly yesterday, Monday, to do intake. Do you remember?” I nod, but I’m not sure. “Dr. Ram wanted to give you another day to rest and heal and get stronger. Get adjusted to your meds. Your mother has given her consent for me to work with you. This is your therapy. What you say here, stays here, like Las Vegas.” She winks, and I try to smile at the butchered slogan. The skin on my face feels wonky. “Unless you tell me otherwise,” she says.

Okay, yeah. I get it.

“You don’t get it,” the crow says. I see him now. He’s wearing the straw hat and struts blindly, drunkenly, across Dr. Alvarez’s rug. I watch until he disappears under her desk.

I do, I whisper in his direction. I’m just trying to hold on to things.

But I can’t because it all slips.

Everything is liquid through gauze.

It’s not Klee, I blurt, trying to focus on something solid. My name, I explain, It’s pronounced Clay, long a. After the famous Swiss painter, Paul Klee.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry. I knew that. Your mother mentioned … You should have corrected me sooner.” Dr. Alvarez looks away, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Klee.” She pronounces it again, emphasizing the long a. “Now I’m going to have those ee’s stuck in my head.”

It’s okay, I say. I’m used to it.

I keep my gaze glued on her. I don’t want to see the crow. I don’t want to see anyone but her. She said she’d help. Help me to get out of here.

“No, of course it’s not okay,” Dr. Alvarez says. “I’ll get it right from now on. Anyway, your mother is welcome back, to sit in, any time you want her to.”

I don’t want her to!

I close my eyes against all of it, against the memories that want to rush in—of my mother. Of Sarah. Of fucking Dunn’s house in the rain. But it’s too late. They slam in on me, knocking the wind from my chest.

Sarah, and Abbott, and all the blood.

Someone laughing at the door.

The images ambush me. I double over, head between my knees. Dr. Alvarez leans across the table.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “We won’t have her here unless you want her. Not until you’re ready. Your choice. I promise. Nobody here is going to make you do anything. This is a safe haven. We want you to get better, okay?”

I nod. I didn’t want to … I didn’t mean to … I say, but keep my head down, waiting for the nausea to pass. Waiting for the crow to land again. Waiting for the field to fill with them, wings flapping, and the man with the gun in his hand.

But they don’t return, and he doesn’t return, and the moment passes and I can sit up again.

I open my eyes. Beneath me, a patterned burgundy rug.

“Do you want to take a break?” Dr. Alvarez asks.

I nod. Yeah, okay.

Everything is hypercolorful and liquid.

I’m a little queasy. I think I need a drink, is all.

“Sure,” she says. “Let’s get you some water. It’s going to get better, Klee, I promise you that. From the sound of things, you’ve been through a lot. And it could be all the medication, too. I’ll talk to Dr. Ram this afternoon and see if that’s adding to the problem. Some of the stronger painkillers can wreak havoc.”

“See?” the crow says. “You may not have meant it, but you clearly have a problem—are the problem. And now you’re stuck in the Ape Can.”

And it hits me: That’s where I am. The Adolescent Psychiatric Center at Northhollow. The place the kids here all call the Ape Can.

“… antidepressants, too,” Dr. Alvarez is saying. “So, it’s common for the doses to need adjusting.” I nod again and try to keep the room from reeling. “Meanwhile, there’s no rush. Try to relax. Take your time. And, breathe.”

But I can’t breathe because Sarah is crawling through my head.

I’d like to get a drink of water.

“Right, of course. Let’s go get you one.”

Okay, yes. My voice sounds too loud, and hoarse. It feels like days since it’s been used. I’d like to walk. Stretch my legs.

“Perfectly okay. We don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here. I know it can be scary, but we’re here to help you, Klee.” She walks to the office door, pulls it open, and stands in the frame. She points out and says, “Go through the waiting area the nurse walked you through, do you remember? Veer left when you reach the hall. Right there you’ll find a fountain, and some cups if you need one. Do you want me to come with you?”

No. I’m okay.