38—CHANGE
The clock on Dr. Rutledge’s desk clicks. Much like the monitors did at the hospital. I stare at Dr. Rutledge, waiting for a new, radical change to happen.
Here it is.
Here’s my story. It’s out in the open and there’s nothing left for me to say. So what happens now?
Will I slowly transform back into the person I once was? Or maybe Dr. Rutledge will snap her fingers and I’ll realize this has all been a dream.
I don’t care what really happens as long as something happens.
We sit there, staring at each other. The clock continues to click and I start to become impatient. I deserve, no, earned this change. So where is it?
“Do you get it now?” I ask impatiently.
Dr. Rutledge nods. “I do.”
My eyes narrow. “Please don’t humor me.”
“I’m not. I understand you went through a terrible situation.”
“If you understand then explain to me why I’m here. Tell me how someone who was just trying to help her friend ends up in a mental institution.”
Rutledge continues to look at me, saying nothing, offering me nothing.
“I didn’t try to kill myself. That was Lana.” I jerk my sleeves up and hold both wrists out. “See? No scars. Nothing.”
She looks down at my wrists. My pale, scar-free wrists.
“See?” I’m practically shoving them at her. “See those veins? I know I have blood in them and I know I have a soul inside of me and I know I have a life worth living. Although… right now it’s not much. But I know I have it.”
She looks away from my flawless wrists and into my eyes. I drop my arms and sit back down. We’re surrounded in silence. Except for that clock. That stupid f*cking clock. I want to pick it up and smash it into pieces. I rub my temples.
“Tell me,” I beg. “Please tell me why I’m here.”
She drops her pen onto her desk. She leans forward and says in a gentle, yet firm voice, “You’re here because you broke down. Everything with Lana was too much to take.”
“That doesn’t warrant someone who’s been completely normal and healthy to be sent here,” I argue.
She smiles sadly. “When someone has the breakdown you had, and experienced what you did, it does.”
My lips quiver. I feel foolish. I feel ashamed. And that is ridiculous. “I want to go home,” I say.
Is home even home anymore? Will my parents let me come back?
“No. You’re not ready to be released yet.”
I drop my head into my hands. Weep or scream? I don’t know. I wait for the big, knotted ball to burst free from my throat, but nothing happens.
“What are you feeling, Naomi?”
“I feel like I just took one step forward, and twenty steps back,” I say into my hands.
“You think you’re getting nowhere?”
I nod and look at her, blinking back tears of frustration.
“I just want answers,” I say hopelessly.
“As much as we want it to happen in a flash, that’s not the way it works.”
My eyes flutter shut and I listen to her, feeling rejected.
“Tomorrow’s a new day.”
I’m tired of new days and the fresh new optimism that comes with it, because hours later, when the sun sets, it steals my optimism and it’s back to feeling so alone.
Mary opens the door. My session is up. Dr. Rutledge says she’ll see me tomorrow. She gives me one of her uplifting smiles.
I don’t tell her what I’m feeling or thinking. I just stand up and walk out the door with Mary.