Clara’s eyes stayed fastened to the spot, out of focus, glazed over with a film of moisture.
“Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.”
“I need your permission to admit her into the psychiatric ward . . .”
“And I shall find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;”
“It’s imperative that she be moved today. She needs medication, and it’s my professional opinion that she’s having a breakdown as we speak.”
“There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evenings full of the linnet’s wings.”
“I understand Mrs. Greenwich. Oh, Ms. Greenwich. I do apologize. We’ll take her by ambulance. No no. No sirens, good God.”
“I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;”
“We’ll be there in approximately fifteen minutes. Yes, Ms. Greenwich. Goodbye.”
“While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.”
Clara sat silently, hands folded over the unused tissue in her lap, staring at the spot.
“That’s beautiful, Clara,” Dr. Morton said soothingly, walking over to stand beside her patient. “Now I want you to take my hand and come for a walk. Will you do that? We’re going someplace special.”
Clara nodded and took the doctor’s hand believing she was going to Innisfree.
Chapter 24
Clara kept her head down as she walked the corridor. It was strange being back at school after two weeks, and she wondered what was the point of even completing the school year. Only three weeks left, and she couldn’t possibly turn her grades around. She thought she didn’t care, that the drive to be academically successful was erased the minute she started swallowing the pills.
She didn’t want to see him in health class. But the intense fear was gone. She wasn’t exactly numb, but she was definitely impenetrable. She was certain of that. She thought she could let the girls pull her hair and spit in her face and she wouldn’t care. Hell, maybe she would encourage them.
She slid into her seat, aware that some students were looking at her uneasily. They knew about her breakdown and were apprehensive, afraid she might have a psychotic explosion in class. She smiled to herself thinking how funny that would be. Or terribly sad.
He walked in and she looked up. He never turned his face to her but kept it focused on his friends in the opposite corner of the room. She realized that he never looked at her empty seat while she was gone, never wondered where she was. If he had, then he would have looked over now to see if she was there. But he didn’t because it was unimportant to him, and she felt heart pangs. She had not felt them since being released, but thankfully, these weren’t as strong as they used to be. The medicine made sure of that, dulling her senses to a fine, low drone. Something manageable. Something safe. And she was glad for the relief.
He sat down in front of Joshua—was that his name?—and started a conversation. She watched him push his hand through his hair and thought it must be a nervous habit. He turned to face the front of the classroom when the bell rang.
She looked at her book bag. She pulled out a notebook and placed it on her desk. It all seemed rote, and she opened the notebook to a fresh page. The lines were neat and straight, and she imagined her handwriting would ruin the perfect symmetry, the stark whiteness of the paper. She wasn’t sure she remembered how to take notes anyway. Could she even write? She held her pen poised over the paper for a split second, and then brought it down to form a jagged letter ‘C.’ The ‘L’ followed tentatively. The ‘A’ was indecipherable. She paused.
You can do it, Clara, she said to herself encouragingly. You can do anything. And she knew she was right because she had taken her special pills.
***
They sat at dinner, Beatrice itching to talk but unsure if things were back to normal. She wanted them to be. She missed Clara.
Clara pushed her food around then started eating tiny morsels when she caught sight of her mother watching her.
“I have another solo,” Beatrice said tentatively. “In the end-of-year play.”
“That’s so great, sweetie,” Ellen replied.
Clara smiled at Beatrice. “I’m proud of you, Bea,” she said, and Beatrice warmed all over.
“Will you be able to come, Clara?” Beatrice asked.
“What kind of question is that?” Clara asked. “Of course I’ll be able to come.”
“I didn’t know if you had to go back to the hospital,” Beatrice said, then wished she could take it back.
Clara smirked—something she hadn’t done in a long time. It felt strange and wonderful.
“Only if I have another mental breakdown, Bea,” Clara said. “But I think I’ll be okay.”
Ellen huffed. “It’s not something to joke about, Clara.”
Clara winked at Beatrice who stifled a giggle.
“I’m serious, girls,” Ellen warned.
“Oh, Mom,” Clara said airily. “Take a chill pill.” And then she reached over for her bottles. “Here, take one of mine,” she offered and burst out laughing. The laughter bubbled up from deep within, and she thought she would choke on it. It felt so good, and she wanted to keep laughing like that until her final breath.
Beatrice and her mother looked at Clara. They weren’t sure if it was normal laughter or crazy laughter.
“I made a joke!” Clara wheezed, and Beatrice giggled.
“Very funny, Clara,” Ellen said, and then she cracked a smile.
“A chill pill!” Clara said cackling even more.
“Ha ha,” Clara’s mom replied, but then it turned into real laughter.
They sat at the dinner table and laughed until the laughter ushered tears.