In Sight of Stars(57)

“Hey, Martin, you’re a cool kid,” I say. “And smart, too. I know you know that. But not just smart. Not how you think, but in other ways too. You have a whole lot going for you.”

“You think?” Martin asks, giving me an eye, trying to figure out if I’m pulling his leg. But I’m not. I put my paddle down, walk over, and put an arm around him, give his hair a brotherly ruffle.

“Yeah, no kidding. I do.”

*

After Martin goes back to his room, I head to the nurses’ station. There’s something I need to do.

“Could I make a call, please?” I ask. “To an outside line. A friend, in the city.”

“Go ahead,” the nurse says. “Dial one first, to get out. You can sit over there.” She motions to an empty cluster of chairs across from the desk.

It’s weird to use a landline, been forever since I’ve had to, and suddenly, I’m not even sure I know his cell number. It takes me three false starts before I think I have the sequence right.

The minute it starts ringing, I panic. It’s a weekday. I didn’t even look at the time. He’s probably still in school. My eyes dart to the clock above the nurses’ station: 2:36 P.M. They just got out. But maybe he has some club and stayed after. Maybe he’s with Dan. Maybe he has a girlfriend.

It rings four times and I’m about to hang up, when I hear his familiar “Hey yo.” I don’t talk. I can’t get words out of my mouth. “Who is this?” Obviously he’s confused. I’m calling him from the fucking Ape Can. How might that come up on his caller ID?

I should hang up.

“Asshole,” he says.

“Cleto?” I say, fast.

“Klee? Hey! What up, man?”

Not much. I’m calling from the loony bin.

I had a bad day and went off the deep end.

“Klee? You there? Where you calling from, man?”

“Yeah, hey. I am. It’s been awhile. I just wanted to say hello.”

“Good to hear from you. Me and Dan, we were just talking about you this afternoon. No shit. Maybe your ears were burning, bro.”

I feel sick. I feel like I could actually throw up. I don’t know what made me think it was a good idea to call Cleto from in here.

“You all right, man? Whose number is this? You around this weekend? Want to come in? Melting Snow is playing at the Copper Penny, and Dan and I thought you might come in.”

Melting Snow is a band we follow. Used to follow. And, the Copper Penny is a dive bar down in the Village where Dan’s uncle works and lets us in. As long as we stay away from the bar.

“I wish,” I say. “Yeah. If I could, I would totally come in. But not this weekend. That’s what I’m calling you about, man.”

“Okay, sure.” I hear the disappointment in his voice, and it hits me again that he tried. He tried. Even after I moved up here to Northhollow. He and Dan would both call, and we’d make plans, but inevitably I’d find a way to blow them off. We’re loners. We isolate. We mess up relationships. There are plenty of signs before we end up in here. “But not because I don’t want to, Cleto. I do. I’m going to. I had a little accident…” I say.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks. Well, not an accident, exactly. It’s been a little hairy around here.”

“Sorry to hear that. Can I help?”

“No. I’m okay. I mean, I think I am, now.”

“Do you want to talk?”

And, suddenly, I do. I really want to talk to Cleto. To my friend. Tell him everything. So I do. Whispered with my back turned so the nurse won’t hear. The whole ugly saga. About Sarah and my mom and her dumb letters—her affair—and how things got fucked-up long before that. “I didn’t deal with my dad when it happened, I don’t think,” I say, “and it all piled up, and I kind of went crazy, I guess.”

“Wow,” Cleto says. “I had no idea.”

“I know. I lost it, dude. I mean, seriously lost it. But I think I’m getting better in here.”

“Shit,” he says, after a few seconds of dead silence. “That’s fucked-up. I feel bad. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay.”

“Yeah.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, then says, “So, you think you’re getting out soon?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hope so. I’ll have to stay in therapy and shit, stay on medication.”

“That makes sense,” Cleto says.

“Yeah. Anyway, I figured I should tell you. Reach out. You’re my best friend, Cleto. Always were. And I sure don’t have any friends up here. And I didn’t want you hearing through social media or some crazy shit like that.”

“Okay, man. I’m glad you did. Feel better, Klee. Holy shit. You’d better get better,” he says.

Day 11—Morning

Dr. Alvarez has her back to me, looks out her office window at the drizzle.

Yesterday, in the sunshine, talking to Dr. Alvarez, to Cleto, everything felt more hopeful, more doable. But today I’m back to worried again. What if I never feel well enough to get out of here?

When I walk in, she turns and smiles. Dr. Alvarez’s smile can almost make me believe what she believes. That I will get better. That I have. That soon I’ll be ready to go home.