Your day is busy—you have a therapy session on mindfulness and a morning break of a couple of eighties sitcoms, and then there’s another lunch you don’t eat—ham sandwich and potato salad. Then everyone heads outside for outdoor-activity time.
During the allotted twenty minutes of fresh air, there is a discussion of whether you should play badminton or basketball. No one wants to play either game. Instead you all lie on the concrete court, lapping up the warmth like a bunch of iguanas, like you may never get to see the sun again. It feels decadent to be outside, to feel the heat on your skin. It feels a bit like hope, like there might be a future.
“Is this what mindfulness feels like?” you ask.
“Are you being in the moment?” Savara jokes.
“I might be, actually.”
“Are you not judging how the sun feels on your face? And just noticing it?” Chad chimes in.
You laugh. “Sure.”
“Then I guess you’re being mindful of what it’s like to sit in the sun.”
You think about this. Being mindful. The stuff they’re shoving down your throat at therapy sessions. Being in the moment, not judging. Have you been judgmental? Of course. You immediately judge the girls on Instagram and Twitter, by what they say, by how they pose, by how they appear in their photos. You come to an instant conclusion about people by what they wear and how they look, and by what they say or how they act, and who they hang out with. You’re trying to be mindful now but you’re not too sure about this stuff. How is being “mindful” going to make you a less anxious or depressed person? You don’t get it. Then you realize your mind is wandering.
“Oh shit,” you say. “I stopped being mindful!”
Chad, Savara, and Starling laugh.
You close your eyes, letting the sun warm your face, and think of Ben. You miss him and can’t believe what he wrote in his letter.
He loves you.
How can he love you when you’ve got the monster in the way, when you were so mean to him, when you can’t promise you won’t freak out on him again?
How can you be so deserving of him, of his love?
You’re going to have to trust him. Trust his love.
You’re going to have to be better to him.
You know your disorder—your monster—has prevented you from opening up to people whom you care about. You want to start being completely present and open with others.
Especially Ben.
You know you want Ben in your life. And you’re getting stronger, you feel it. You’ve felt the monster settling down—even though you hate being in the hospital, something is changing.
You’re just not sure exactly what. Maybe the desire not to be here is so strong, there’s a shift inside of you to do something different, something big to change the way you’ve been living.
Maybe, just maybe, you are being mindful?
*
That night, after dinner, you and Savara are in your room. She’s going through her things, which don’t add up to much, just some toiletries and her clothes. You’re sitting on your bed, watching her pack.
“What are you going to do when you go home?” you ask her.
“I’m going to go back to seeing my therapist. I think my parents want to send me to a different school. Which might be okay. There’s been a lot of crap at my school. I think I need some new friends, better influences.”
“Do you think you’ll ever have to come back here?”
Savara looks at you and grins. “As much as I like you and don’t want to leave you, I hope I never come back.”
You laugh because it’s so true. Despite only knowing Savara a couple of days, you’ve bonded quickly. The Crazy House will do that to people.
“You know I would have completely lost it in here without you,” you tell her.
“You would have been fine,” Savara says.
“Well, anyway, I’m glad you were here.”
“Starling’s gonna lose her shit when I leave tomorrow,” Savara says.
“I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“You’ll probably get out right after me,” Savara notes.
You hope so. You hope you get to go home after your assessment tomorrow, which will be your fourth day here. You’re ready to go home. You are ready to do whatever it takes to create a normal life for yourself, no matter what that might be.
Savara finishes packing and then you go out to make a call. You don’t mind that your parents didn’t come tonight because you’ll see them tomorrow. You hope they’ve arranged for Shayna to be here.
But right now, all you can think about is calling Ben.
52
Ben answers the phone and just hearing his voice brings all your emotions front and center. Tears trickle down your cheeks and you sniffle back sounds of crying. You don’t want to cry.
Immediately you apologize.
“It’s okay,” he says. Then, “I miss you, babe. Are you okay?”
“Yes.” You wipe your nose and compose yourself. “Thanks for the letter. I love it,” you whisper.
“I love you,” he says. It’s the first time you’ve heard him say it.
“I love you too.” I love you too.
They are like magic words and you literally feel the monster shrivel inside of you. The power of the words, of having someone important love you and being able to love that someone back, it’s not like it angers the monster into a rage, but it diminishes his power. It makes him seriously crumble a bit. You’re taking away his power by loving and being loved. You’re discovering this. That love can overpower the monster. You hold on to this information, knowing that it will be needed down the road when things are hard again.
“How are you?” Ben asks.
A calm has come over you and you tell him you feel okay, that you feel like you’re getting well, and you want to get well, that you want to get out of here. That you don’t hate it here, and most of the kids are actually very nice. You don’t tell him about Malik because you don’t want to cry anymore. You want to feel this happiness that’s building. You want to keep it growing there.
“When will you be home? I miss you so much.”
“Mom and Dad come tomorrow for a big meeting,” you say. “I hope they’ll let me leave with them.”
“Me too,” Ben says. “Then we could have the whole weekend together.”
You think about this, to be able to spend the weekend with Ben. To hug him and kiss him and just see him. The thought makes you feel like you’re going to get through this, knowing he wants you as much as you want him and that he’s waiting for you.
One of the nurses taps her wrist, motioning that your time for the phone call is up.
“Ben, I’ve got to go. My time’s up. Maybe by this time tomorrow I’ll be home?”
“I would love that. I love you. I miss you. I love you.” He says it twice.
Twice.
“I love you too.”
53
Savara’s parents come after breakfast on Friday to get her. You hug each other tightly and say goodbye. You think you probably won’t ever talk to her again and you’re pretty sad about that but you feel like people come in and out of your life for a reason and you know Savara helped you through a very difficult time.