chapter fifteen
I’m a little groggy today because I stayed up way too late texting Evan last night. I even went back to sleep for two hours after my mom and Ben left. But now it’s the afternoon and I have my Thursday session with Brenda. I drag two beach chairs out of the storage closet in the hallway of our apartment and set them up outside in front of the welcome mat. I sit down to wait. In my jeans. I wear them now instead of pajamas. Because it makes my mom happy. And Brenda. And me.
If I poke my toes through the slats of the railing, the sun hits them just right.
When Brenda arrives, she stops in the courtyard to look up at me.
“You’re outside already.”
I nod. “Hurry up before I chicken out.”
She scurries up the stairs and sits down next to me. She has her burgundy dreads piled on top of her head and she’s wearing a short skirt. It’s kind of awkward for her to sit in a low beach chair dressed that way, but she doesn’t complain about it. She simply kicks off her boots and sticks her toes through the slats of the railing like me.
“It’s wonderful to see you out here. How have you been?” she asks.
“Good. Ben’s going to be in a play.”
“That’s exciting.”
I pick at the edge of the plastic armrest on my beach chair. “He wants me to go. He wants me to be there.”
“I see.” Brenda scribbles something down. “When is it?”
“June. Right before school gets out.”
“And you have concerns?”
“Of course I have concerns. I don’t leave my apartment. How am I supposed to go to my brother’s play?”
“Do you want to go?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll make sure you do.” She wiggles her toes, trying to stretch them out farther into the sun. “We have about seven weeks to work on this.” She looks at me for confirmation that I’m on board. I nod. “Great. We’ll make it a goal then. We can even practice with some visualization.”
“What’s that?”
“Visualization can trick your brain into thinking something has already happened. Like it exists as a memory.”
“That makes sense, I guess.”
I say that even though I’m not sure I actually mean it. It just seems like my brain would know whether I’ve actually been to my brother’s play or not.
Brenda keeps wiggling her toes and adjusts her skirt so it doesn’t ride up. These chairs really aren’t made for an outfit like hers, but I try not to think about it because I don’t want to move or go back inside. This surprises me. I’m relieved to feel this comfortable out here.
“So. What else have you been up to?” she asks.
“I’ve actually been doing a lot of writing.”
“Good. That’s great, really.” She puts that down in her notebook and looks back at me. “What have you been writing, exactly?”
“A bunch of stuff.” The turquoise water of the pool glistens below us, and I can almost trick myself into thinking I’m about to dive right in. “And I wrote another letter.”
“Fantastic. I encourage that.” She smiles. Proud. “Do you think I could see what you wrote?”
I shift uncomfortably.
“What’s wrong?” she asks me.
“Well, I wrote a letter.” I gnaw at the corner of my thumbnail. “But I delivered it. Or technically, Ben delivered it. I didn’t know I was supposed to show it to you first.”
She jots something else down. “It’s okay, Morgan. Maybe I didn’t give you the best direction on that. How did it go?”
“It went really well, actually. I wrote it to Evan.”
“The new boy? Your neighbor?” She gestures to the shredded screen door of Evan’s apartment.
“Yep.”
“Can I ask you what you wrote?”
I pick at the shredded knee of my jeans. “I basically told him the truth about me.”
“Which is what?”
“You know.”
“But I’d like to hear it in your words.” She has her pen poised, ready to write it down.
“I said I’ve been scared to leave my apartment since October fifteenth, but that he reminds me of the things I’m missing. He didn’t seem freaked out.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“We hung out. We’re friends. I need a friend.”
“What about your other friends? From before. Do you miss them?”
“Of course. But it’s nice having a new friend.”
“Mm-hm. New friends are nice. But old friends are nice, too. Don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t talk to them.”
“That was your decision, not theirs.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
We look out at the pool. The surface of it twinkles against the sun. I wish Brenda would understand why new friends might be easier for me than old friends. And that I might like Evan as more than a friend. She must sense that.
“If I’m not supposed to send letters, why did you want me to go to the mailbox before?”