“How long?” You look at your parents. “Mom, Dad? How long?”
They look at each other, not wanting to answer, and Ms. Reynolds speaks. “Inpatient is usually only four to seven days in a case like yours. They’ll teach you some very useful coping skills, how to handle your anxiety and depression, and they’ll get you on the right medication. You’ll be able to talk with other kids who have some of the same issues as you do.” She pauses. “Remember, we’re here to help you.”
You’re shaking your head back and forth, back and forth. You don’t know if you’ll be able to get through this.
42
Ms. Reynolds says goodbye and assures you that she’ll see you at St. Joe’s at the end of the week for an assessment meeting. Your parents take you to the hospital. You don’t even get to go home. That’s one of the rules with inpatient. You do not pass Go. You go straight to the psych ward. Because that’s really what it is. A place for crazies.
You don’t talk to your parents on the way to the “hospital” as they call it, although you know it’s the Crazy House. You’re scared to death, because you’ve seen movies about crazy people and you know it’s all just about taking your meds in small paper cups and wearing hospital gowns and maybe even getting strapped to your bed at night. And freaky people shouting out the answers to Jeopardy! every evening, and crappy food they might shove down your throat to force you to eat.
You’re pretty much terrified of what’s about to happen.
For over an hour you sit in a room with your parents while a woman processes your admittance. She asks your parents a bunch of questions about your health and mental status while completely ignoring you. Then she hands a bunch of forms to your parents to fill out and leaves. You feel like you’re about to have a panic attack. It doesn’t help that the room is slightly larger than a public restroom.
The woman comes back in to get the forms and offers you water. You don’t want to accept anything but you’re parched so you take the water and drink it.
“We’re almost done here,” the woman says, and then she leaves again.
Your parents try small talk while you wait, saying things like, “This is going to be just fine,” and, “You’ll be so much better after this,” and, “It’s going to go by so quick, you’ll see,” but you ignore them. After a while your mom starts to quietly cry.
You’re glad. You want her to feel pain. You doubt she or your dad have ever felt the pain you’re feeling right now and you want to inflict some of it on them.
You think about Ben.
You think about how you were together at the lake on Sunday, how he held you in the warm water and kissed you, and pushed your wet hair away from your face and wiped the water from your eyes, how you wrapped your body around his and never wanted to let go, how you felt the safest and happiest you’ve ever felt.
He has no idea what’s going on, or where you are, or where you’re going to be for the next four to seven days. And you have no way to let him know.
The woman comes back and says someone will be there in a moment to get you. She says good luck and leaves. While you thought your adrenaline couldn’t spike any higher, it does. A staff member comes to get you and your parents. He takes you into the area that’s the living space for the crazy people.
You can’t get over the fact that this is where you’ll be staying for however long they keep you here.
The staffer has a name tag that says DAMIAN and you can’t help but think of some devil-worship guy because of his name. He’s wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt that says, Nobody Is Perfect, I Am Nobody. He’s got small gold studs in his ears and a sleeve of colorful tattoos with mostly skulls and some inspirational words on his forearm. When he speaks, he’s not scary-sounding like you expected, so it calms you down, which is good, considering he’s your first introduction to the Crazy House.
“Hey, I’m Damian, and I’ll be here on shift for the rest of the day and part of the evening. I’ll help you with anything you need, okay?”
You nod, then look at your feet. Because you’re pretty scared, and nervous too, but you don’t want to cry. You’ll cry later. Later, you’ll cry a ton.
“I do need your shoelaces, all of your jewelry, and are you wearing a belt?”
You consider this for a moment, and look at him.
“For safety reasons,” Damian says.
Oh for God’s sake.
“So I don’t kill myself while I’m in here?”
“Pea!” your dad reprimands.
Damian grins. “You got it, girl.”
This makes you like Damian a bit now, because he calls you girl, and because of his grin. He has really straight white teeth. You can tell he has good oral hygiene.
You remove the shoelaces from your Chucks, then you take out your earrings, remembering how Ben kissed you behind your earlobes on Sunday. You take off your necklace. It’s a plain silver one you put on that morning.
“Do you have a phone?” he asks.
“They already took it away.”
“Okay. Visiting hours are from six to seven every evening. Parents or guardians only.”
“Great, that’ll make Todd happy,” you say.
“Who’s Todd?”
“My brother. He hates me. But I can’t see my boyfriend?”
“I’m sorry, no. But you can call him from seven to eight when the phone is free,” Damian says.
You look to your mom and dad like you need approval. When they don’t say anything, you say, “Mom, Dad, Ben has nothing to do with this. He’s been helping me! He helped me eat turkey the other day! He was upset too. And he told me I need to go back on my meds. He’s just as upset about this as you guys are!”
“You stopped taking your meds?” your mother asks, and then she looks down because her eyes fill with tears again.
You’ve had enough. You’re sick of your parents, tired of the day’s events, and you want to go to sleep. You feel like you could sleep forever.
“I’m exhausted.” You look at Damian.
“Well, we have to take you to the nurse for a physical evaluation and then I’ll show you to your room. You can meet your roommate and maybe rest a bit.”
Shit. A roommate.
“It’s time to say goodbye to your parents. They can come back tonight at six,” Damian says.
Because you are all sorts of tired and angry and mixed-up and confused, you look at your mom and dad and say, “Can you come back tomorrow night instead? And bring me my pillow and some clean clothes.” To Damian: “Am I allowed to have my pillow and my own clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Then come back tomorrow night, please. I’m tired.”
Your parents hug you and then you watch as they head toward the long hallway to freedom. Your mom is crying hysterically and your dad puts his arm around her shoulders and she falls in to him. You can’t believe your mom is acting this way.
Why is she so upset? How is this making her so sad?
She’s the one who’s leaving you.
Your parents leave you at the Crazy House with Damian.
43