She’s not going to let it go. Maybe it’s time to try this again.
“Fine, but when I come out of an episode, all I can think is, who was that person? Why did she lie in bed all weekend thinking everything was too pointless to bother getting up? And then why’d she jump out of bed and stay up all night believing she could learn Portuguese by morning, thinking it’s just Spanish with a few different words? Even if it was true—and it’s not—I hardly know any Spanish! The meds keep me from turning into those other people.”
“Those people are you. They’re just moods.”
“Trying to learn Portuguese overnight isn’t a mood. It’s someone else jumping into my head and grabbing the controls. I still have moods on my meds; I just don’t get possessed, thinking and feeling and doing all this random shit.”
She doesn’t answer. I can’t see her face in the dark.
I say, “Maybe you just don’t think about things like I do.”
“I don’t think about things? All I want is a good time?”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“I know moods can feel like different people,” HJ says. “But you’ve picked one and decided it’s the only real you. How do you know it’s the right one? I think you just picked the safest choice.”
“It’s who I am when I’m level.”
“It’s not the only real you! The drugs chop off the highs and lows so all you’re left with is the one who doesn’t have highs or lows! That’s why you don’t go out, take chances, put yourself out there, be a teenager.”
“I’m surrounded by teenagers at school,” I say. “Only a few of them are party monsters or serial daters or sluts—” Fuck!
“Is that what you think I am?”
“No! I’m saying those are stereotypes, not what all teenagers actually do. A lot of people I know don’t party or have boyfriends or girlfriends or even go out much.”
HJ is quiet.
Goddamn it, this is why I can’t talk about this. I really need to keep my mouth shut. I don’t even know what the word slut means here. It’s a judgment and I don’t judge her. I don’t care if she sleeps with every guy in town if it makes her happy. I just know it doesn’t.
“I’m saying I’m different, that’s all. It’s got nothing to do with meds. Nobody else thinks it’s wrong that I work at a retirement home and don’t go to parties or out on dates every weekend or have a boyfriend. Nobody but you.”
After a moment, HJ says, “I don’t think you’re wrong, Mel. I just think you’re missing out. It’s a shame. Soon you won’t be a teenager anymore, and you’ll never be one again.”
We say no more about it. Or anything else.
HAMSTER IS ACTIVE
HUMMINGBIRD IS FLYING
HAMMERHEAD IS CRUISING
HANNIGANIMAL IS UP!
We haul our sandy gear home at sunrise ahead of the rising tide. I feel a lot better this morning after sleeping some. Unnaturally upbeat, actually, given the circumstances. It happens. I’m embracing it. HJ would approve.
I remember to skip the Ritalin part of my medication M, and now I’m famished. That problem’s easily solved. The Silver Sands has a great breakfast buffet.
I pile my plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries, wheat toast, and apple slices, and I grab a glass of orange juice. Most of the residents have eaten and drifted out. Dr. Jordan is doing a crossword puzzle next to an empty plate. Ms. Li sits alone, halfway through an omelet and nursing a cup of tea.
I cross over to her table. “Mind if I join you?”
“Going farming today?” she asks.
“If farming means lying on a couch reading a book.”
I’m not on the clock till after I eat so I haven’t changed into scrubs; I’m wearing Mom’s baggy overalls. I looked in the dryer for something clean to put on this morning and this was my choice. Mom made some crack about it being unfair, since she couldn’t fit into my jeans from the same load. I expressed no sympathy. I claimed it as my reward for emptying the dryer.
Ms. Li waves me into a chair.
I say, “I see you already figured out the best thing here is the veggie omelet.”
“Why didn’t you get one?”
“Too much green and not enough bacon for this early. I like them for dinner.”
David says, “Gone two minutes and you give away my chair.”
I jump, startled. Ms. Li never glanced up to give me a clue.
“Oh, sorry!” I start to stand. “I didn’t—”
“It’s fine; don’t move your breakfast.” He sits in another chair. “You’re here early.”
“I work here. I eat here. Sometimes both.”
“I need to find a job that pays me to eat.”
“Don’t be jealous—go grab a plate,” I say. “There’s bacon left.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, really, tell them Mel said it’s okay. It’s nice and crispy today.”
“I don’t eat bacon.”
“Huh?” I peer at him.
He leans forward and enunciates carefully. “I … don’t … eat … bacon.”
I look to Ms. Li. “What’d he say? Was it Chinese?”
She scoffs. “He couldn’t order off the menu in a Chinese restaurant.” She scoops up a heaping forkful of eggs. “He’s a vegetarian.”
David leans back. “Says the woman eating a veggie omelet.”