“Have you thought about it? Since we last talked.”
“Yes.”
I sit up on my couch. “I mean, not actively.”
“Define actively,” Ruth, my Outside therapist, asks.
She reminds me a little of Josie from the Inside. Blonde hair and slender, but no glasses. She’s also very fond of her notepads. She should be. Her penmanship is excellent. I’ve peeked into her notes, or rather tried to, and the glimpses I caught were pretty beautiful.
I cross my thighs, tapping the heel of my left boot on my right leg. “Well, you know, I didn’t want to jump in front of the bus like I wanted to last month. So, yay me.”
We both chuckle, and she asks, “What was it this time?”
Squinting my eyes, I try to look for the correct term. “A general wonderment,” I say, truthfully. “I was walking down the street and I stopped in front of this building in my neighborhood. I looked up and I kind of thought about how it would feel to jump from it. It was for a second, I think. And then I walked away.”
She nods and gets her pen ready to write something down. She’s very good at not looking away from me, even when she’s writing. She must have had loads of practice, which in turn means she must have a ton of clients like me.
All lost. All struggling every day. The network of all the chosen ones. People like me.
I’m not alone. And neither am I fighting alone.
“What made you walk away?” she asks.
I sigh, drum my fingers on the armrest. “My mom. She was the first thing or person I thought of. Then my grandma, my aunt. My entire family. Then I thought of all the kids at the bookstore. You know, I pictured them waiting for me to do the story-time but I wasn’t there and they were crying, and yeah. That was slightly more unbearable than living one more day. So.”
Ruth nods again, smiling. “Good. That’s actually very good.”
“Yeah. I’m reading them Goblet of Fire, and Harry’s just about to fight a dragon. I cannot leave them hanging. That’s torture.”
She laughs. “One of these days, I’m going to read those books.”
I feel excited, and a tiny bit sad too. I still haven’t found my Harry Potter soul mate. “Oh my God, you should. Just please, please read the books. Don’t watch the movies. They suck. I mean, watch them after you’ve read the books. But please, read them first.”
“I promise I will.” Then she gets serious. “Tell me about Columbia. Are you still struggling with classes?”
I deflate, sitting back. I still don’t like admitting that I’m struggling either with my depression or with my courses. I don’t think it will ever go away, this tiny sting when it comes to admitting things. I’ll always have to remind myself that I’m a fighter and there’s no shame in fighting.
It’s the most honorable thing you can do for yourself.
Swallowing against the rush of emotions those strings of words invoke, I reply, “A little bit. But it’s not as bad as it was in the beginning, or even a month ago.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. Nothing is ever easy in the beginning, Willow. Beginning is the hardest part.”
“Yeah.” I nod.
She’s right. It would seem that ending might be the hardest part, and saying goodbye hurts the most. But it’s beginning something new after that goodbye that’s harder to cope with. Because when you begin something new, after leaving something behind, the ghosts of that past always, always linger.
And sometimes those ghosts never go away. You carry them in your heart, in your veins.
“Any progress on the task I gave you?”
Sighing, I rub my palms over my jeans. They actually got wet in the rain a little bit while I was getting in. It’s still raining, water and light snow. Roads are gonna be a biatch, getting back to the Village from the Upper West Side.
Maybe I can take the subway. But that would mean like, more than half an hour worth of detouring going from the West side to the East, and I’m not looking forward to that.
Maybe I should change therapists. Find someone closer to where I live. It’s about the convenience more than anything. Truly.
“Willow?”
“What?”
“Are you going to answer me?”
I bite my lower lip. “I’m thinking.”
“You’re stalling.”
I sigh again. “No.”
“No means? You’re not stalling or there hasn’t been any progress?”
Wedging my hands between my thighs and the leather couch, I mumble, “No progress.” Then, more loudly, “But I’m working on it.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Well, kind of.” I grimace. “I just don’t get asked out much, honestly. I’m not, you know, the popular type. Guys are not interested in me. Not that it’s a bad thing. I’m not putting myself down, but they aren’t really.”
“I think it’s the other way around. I think you’re not interested in any guys. Because you’re still interested in him.”
A sharp pain shoots up just under my ribs, like a cramp that squeezes and clenches, until I have to make fists out of my fingers and grit my teeth a little bit.
Clearing my throat, I loosen my hands and bring them to my lap, rubbing the tattoo on my left wrist. “I’m not an idiot.”
“I never said you were. You’re just in love. With someone who doesn’t love you back.”
But what if he does?
That’s always my first thought. Always.
You know, for a girl suffering from clinical depression, I’m a little bit too optimistic about some things. Foolishly optimistic.
Foolish. Foolish. Foolish. A love fool.
That’s what I am. Probably, that’s what I’ll always be.
“It’s time, you know,” Ruth says. “You need to give someone a chance. If you open yourself up, Willow, you’re going to be so surprised at what you find. I’m not saying fall in love, get married, make a bunch of babies. I’m saying give someone a chance. Go out. Have fun. You’re young. Live your life.” She folds her hands in her lap, putting down her notebook. “Remind me what you told me when you first came to me.”
When I first came to her, I was still so heartsick and heartbroken that I didn’t think I’d live to see another day. But I did. One after the other. And it’s been three months since The Heartstone Incident. Ninety-three days.
Ninety-three days of living. Of getting up every day and building a new life for myself: Columbia, a job at the Thirteen Corner Bookstore, Sunday dinners with my family, hanging out with Renn, Penny, and Vi.
And every one of those ninety-three days, my first thought is always of him. Where is he? Why did he leave? Why couldn’t he love me? Maybe all the horrible things he said were lies. Maybe he said one thing but meant another.
In my weakest moments, I’ve thought maybe if I was a little prettier or older or more sophisticated and not some fucking psycho who attacked him, maybe he could’ve loved me. He could’ve seen me as more than a girl he slept with.
I wonder what Ruth would say if I told her the man we’ve been talking about for the past two months is my psychiatrist. All she knows is that I met someone when I was on the Inside and that he never loved me.
Oh and that, I attacked a doctor; news travels fast. She doesn’t know why, though. I never told her the truth.
It’s a secret that I intend to keep.
“I told you that I wanted to live,” I reply.
“And are you living, Willow?”
Swallowing, I tell her, “I’m trying.”
“Well, that’s all you can do. That’s all anyone can do. We can try, and sometimes we fail. And sometimes we do get where we want to go. But you’ll never know if you don’t try. You have to try, Willow.”
She’s giving me such a meaningful look, and you know what, she’s right. It’s been three months, and I need to let him go. I’ll never know if I don’t try.
“Okay.” I nod, smiling slightly.
Maybe if I try, I’ll get where I wanna go – a place where those weeks don’t exist. That was always my goal, wasn’t it? Not thinking about spending time at a psychiatric hospital. I wanted to leave it behind when I left.
But the irony of it is that I can’t bear the thought of forgetting the weeks that completely changed my life. Maybe I can keep the good memories and forget the ugly ones.
Yeah, maybe that’s what I should do. Remember the good times and not The Heartstone Incident.
Three hours later, I’m at the apartment that I share with Renn in the Village, lying on the carpeted floor, staring at the white popcorn ceiling.
Renn, Vi, and Penny are lying in a circle beside me, our heads on one side and our legs raised up and resting on either the yellow suede couch or on the brown coffee table.
This was another one of our poker nights and like always, Renn cleaned me out of my money that I work very hard for at the bookstore.
I hate her.
Actually, I don’t. I love her and that she came to my rescue not only on the Inside but also on the Outside.
After The Heartstone Incident, I had to stay on the Inside for another four weeks. They strongly advised me that I should, and I agreed.
What happened was wrong. I did a wrong thing. I shouldn’t have attacked him.
I put myself and my health in jeopardy. No amount of heartbreak should result in that. I just didn’t know that heartbreak could be so powerful. But I’ve decided on one thing – that no matter how much it hurts, I’ll never let myself do that again.
Love shouldn’t make you lose your mind like that. Love could be hurtful, but it shouldn’t be toxic. It’s too pure for that. Too magical.
It’s not an illness and I won’t let it become one.
I was the last of our gang to get out and when I did, feeling all lost and afraid, Renn called me up and asked me if I wanted to share an apartment with her. She said that she was trying this new independent healthy thing and she’d rather do it with me than alone. Of course, I said yes.
And frankly, I wasn’t ready to make a go at it alone anyway.
Something about stepping into the Outside world had scared me. Maybe it was the lack of structure.
On the Inside, everything is regimented. You follow a routine. You follow the rules. On the Inside, you’re the most important person, the most important aspect of your life. But on the Outside, priorities change. Things are chaotic, like the New York City streets in winter. Dirty and full of sludge and jam-packed with traffic.
It’s easy to lose your way. It’s easy to think you’re not good enough to navigate life. Every challenge is much harder on the Outside.
“Ruth wants me to date,” I tell the girls.
Honestly, I’m not sure if they’d even hear me. They are drunk and high as fuck. Even Penny, who doesn’t usually like to get under the influence. But it’s Friday and things are relaxed.
I don’t have qualms about getting drunk on Renn’s vodka and practically inhale Vi’s funny brownies, but tonight, I don’t want to. I’m not in the mood.
“Date who?” Renn asks from beside me, her voice all hoarse.
Pot makes her horny. It makes me horny too. It also makes me dream of him.
This is why I’ve chosen to remain sober. So I don’t dream of him tonight and touch myself and then cry. I need to take Ruth’s advice. I don’t even know why I’m not.
“Date whom.” That’s Penny in her giggling voice. “You’re such an illiterate cow.”
“You’re such an ugly hag,” Renn giggles.
Vi simply snorts.
Snorting myself, I shrug. “To answer Renn’s question, I don’t know. Someone. A guy.”
“Date a girl.” Renn sighs.
“What?”
“Yeah. Date a girl. Oh man, date a girl with like, big tits.”
I flip on my stomach to look at Renn. She’s running a finger up and down her chest and rubbing her thighs together. Her t-shirt is oversized but thin. Nothing much has changed in her wardrobe from when we were on the Inside. Except she doesn’t wear pants, only boy shorts, at least when she’s home.
“Is this the horniness talking?”
She shoots me a look. “It’s the loneliness talking.” Looking away, she continues, “I mean, how strange it is that I haven’t touched another woman’s tits and girly bits. Shouldn’t I know my own kind intimately? It’s a fucking tragedy.”
Vi flips on her stomach, too. “Or it could be the fact that you’re thinking about Tristan.”
Now, Vi? That girl has completely changed. Her hair’s pink, and instead of wearing drab and nondescript clothes like she did on the Inside, she now wears shorts like me and punk rock t-shirts. And she loves to bake. Especially brownies with pot.
We still don’t know what her exact story is or how her fiancé died, but I have a feeling we’ll know one day. When she’s ready to tell us. I’m not as frustrated about it as Renn sometimes gets, though.
Renn flips on her stomach too. “What?”
“It’s a valid conclusion.”
“How is it a valid conclusion?”
“When Willow came home from work last week and said that they’d gotten a new employee by the name of Christian, you heard Tristan, and you completely freaked out.”
“I did not!”
“You jumped a mile in your seat and you ate all the chocolate chip cookie dough laced with rum. And then we stayed up all night when you were puking your guts out.”
Throwing a couch pillow on Vi’s face, she snaps, “Fuck you, Vi. That was a weak moment. Such a low blow.”
“It’s true, though,” Penny says, flipping on her stomach as well, her hands under her chin. “You did freak out a little bit.”
Renn lies on her back, kicking her feet in the air. “I did not. I only knew the guy for like, three weeks tops. That’s nothing. And in that entire time, he annoyed the fuck out of me, okay? I don’t even remember what he looks like. The only reason I don’t forget his name is because you guys won’t stop saying it. So, can we please move on from this joke?”
“But –”
“Guys!” I raise my voice and my hands, deciding to jump into the conversation, still playing the peacekeeper. “Stop fighting, okay? I don’t like fighting.”
All three of them go quiet and look at me for a few seconds before starting back up, completely ignoring me. I sigh, shaking my head. I never should’ve brought up dating.
Amidst the chaos, I hear my phone ring. It’s Beth.
Shooting them one last exasperated glance, I go to the bedroom and shut my door. “Hey, Beth.”
“Hey, Willow. How are you?”
Ever since I got out two months ago, Beth has called me on and off, to check in with me. We’ve gotten pretty close, actually. At first, I thought that she did it with all the patients, as unbelievable as that sounds. But then I realized she only did it with me, because none of the other girls have gotten any calls from her.
I would’ve felt a little awkward and suspicious about her regular calls, but I actually don’t. I never even asked her why she calls me.
I go to the window and press my nose on the glass, looking into the dark, rainy night. “I’m good. How’re you? How’s Heartstone?”
“It’s good. Not the same without you, though.”
I smile. “Ah, you’re sweet. Do you miss me?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe I should come back.”
“Oh God, no. You stay out there.”
I laugh. “Maybe we should do coffee. You should come to the city.”
I hear her chuckle. “Yeah, maybe.”
Then she goes quiet for a few seconds and I think that I’ve lost her. I look at the screen to confirm but nope, the call’s still on.
“Beth?” I speak into the phone, frowning. “Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. I’m sorry I…” She hesitates, and my heart picks up.
So far, in all our calls Beth has never hesitated. She’s usually very warm and friendly, motherly even. She asks me about my job, my therapy with Ruth, even about Sunday dinners with my family.
It’s a pretty light and nice conversation. And by the end of it, I’m both smiling and hurting. Some days the hurt outweighs the smile but that’s my problem. In my head, Beth is connected to him.
It suddenly hits me, though. That I can’t talk to her anymore. I can’t have these phone calls with her if I want to move on.
The truth is that the only reason I talk to her is because I want to hold on to him. I might even be hoping to hear something about him.
“Willow, I want to ask you something.”
My heart is in my throat, throbbing, pounding as I wait for her to ask her question. I have a feeling that today I’ll find out why she’s been calling me.
“Will you tell me what happened that day?”
My head drops, and I stare at my bare feet. I can’t bear to wear my bunny slippers anymore. They remind me of him. Of how he’d put them on my feet when he was cleaning me up and how he would ask me to keep them on when he was fucking me like he loved me.
“Why?” I whisper. “You’ve never asked me before.”
It’s true.
After The Incident, Beth called me into her office and told me that I needed to focus on getting better. She gave me the option to stay on, saying that she’d talk to my psychiatrist on the Outside, recommending it highly.
Not once did she ask me why I attacked a doctor. I had a feeling she knew, though. I don’t know why she didn’t say anything.
Josie knew, too. We never said his name out loud in our sessions, though. I told her that I never wanted to go back to that place where I could become a danger to myself, no matter how heartbroken I was.
My mental health is mine and I need to do everything to protect it. Only I am responsible for it, no one else. Not even him.
But Heartstone is a small place. Things get out. Especially since the day after The Incident, he left and never came back. Not to mention, everyone knew of our more than usual number of meetings. I was the only one who saw the doctor-in-charge every other day in his office. The rest followed a routine.
And I thought we were being so smart under the guise of medicine.
A love fool.
Anyway, they brought in another replacement doctor who stayed until Dr. Martin was better enough to join us.
She sighs, bringing me back to the present. “I’m asking because I feel like what happened was, in some way, my fault.”
My head whips up. “What?”
“I knew, Willow. I knew you were spending time with him. I saw the way you looked at him and the way you acted around each other. It was my fault. I should’ve stopped it.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Her chuckle is sad. “He asked me the same thing. And I’m going to tell you the same thing I told him. I knew you were in love. By the time I found out, I knew it was too late. Maybe it was always too late. Maybe you were always in love with him.”
My heart’s beating so fast that I can’t breathe, let alone talk. “I… I wasn’t…”
I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Perhaps I’m trying to deny it.
“He tells me that I should’ve stopped it when I had the chance.”
“S-Simon?”
“Yes and I should’ve. And that’s how I know what you are to him. Still.”
“What am I?”
“Something he wants but won’t let himself have.”
My knees completely give out and I have to grab onto the windowsill to not crash to the ground, instead of lowering myself to it like a dignified person.
But the thing is, my dignity is dead. It’s completely gone.
God, I’m pathetic.
I’m pathetic in that in all these months, this is when my heart has chosen to race. This moment. This is the moment my body has chosen to wake up from a long-time sleep. Goose bumps, flutters, the beginnings of a storm.
“Willow? You there?”
I laugh, a short, jabbing sound. “I’m here.”
“Hon, I know –”
“Why did he leave? After that day. Why did he leave? Why didn’t he come back?”
I’m digging my nails on my bare knees, sitting on my ass, propped against the wall of my bedroom. I’m one step away from curling into a ball.
“You should ask him that,” she replies.
Something is starting to shatter into a million pieces. It’s not my heart. It can’t be. He already broke it. So maybe it’s my psyche.
Maybe this is how I’ll lose it. Third time is the charm, isn’t it?
Maybe I’ll call it The Simon Incident.
“No. I’m asking you.”
“He left because he was going through something and he thought he was doing the right thing.”
“Does that something have to do with Claire?”
Her sharp intake of breath doesn’t go unheard. “You know about Claire?”
“No,” I snap. “And that’s the problem. I don’t know anything. I don’t have the right to know anything, Beth. He never gave me the right.”
Maybe she is choked up with a ton of emotions of her own, as well, because I hear her swallow. “I’m not condoning what he did. But at the time, he thought leaving you was for the best.”
“For whom? Him or me? Because from what I remember I was drugged up and sedated and he wasn’t there.” I sniffle. “And you know what else? I still looked for him that morning. I woke up and I thought after everything he’d be there. He’d at least, talk to me. But no, I was wrong. He never came.”
I’m just about to break my skin; I can feel it. My nails are long and sharp, unlike they were when I was locked up at Heartstone.
Now, they are lethal.
“Do you know his mother was his father’s patient?” Beth says after a while.
“Yes,” I whisper.
I do. But not because he told me. It was Renn.
After everything happened and Simon left, she found a way to get the whole story. I didn’t ask her to. She said she couldn’t see me all broken up, so she at last got the help of her father’s assistant, like she told me she would. He told her everything there was to know about Simon. Including about Claire.
But when Renn tried to tell me about her, I refused to listen. I didn’t want to know. Whatever it is, it won’t change the fact that I love a man who thought I was a phenomenally tight fuck and nothing else.
I hug my knees tighter, feeling so lonely. Lonelier than ever. Lonelier than when I was actually waiting for him to come back, lying awake in that lumpy twin bed at Heartstone.
“They were in love, his mom and dad. So much love. Joseph and I, we weren’t very happy with it at first. But love is love. It happened. They wanted to get married and that was that. They were happy in the beginning, but things changed. Alex – Alexandra, she was a stunning woman, but she was a lot for Alistair to deal with. I’d be first to admit that he was weak. He let his marriage go and the weight of it fell on Simon. That boy was there for his mother from day one. And he stayed by her side right until the end. He was the one who found it, her dead body.”
“What?”
My nails come loose from my skin as if I’ve lost all my strength. All my anger. My fight.
“He was fourteen. His dad was out of town for a conference.”
I’m stumbling. My heartbeats, my breaths. My entire body.
“I-I didn’t…”
“It’s okay, not many people know. I only know because the police, they called us, Joseph and me. God knows, if they hadn’t, Simon would never have told us himself.”
She killed herself.
I remember his face from the day when he said it. He looked so devastated. So lost. No one has ever needed me the way he did on that day. No one has ever made me feel so useful and wonderful, like an answer to their every prayer.
A strong burst of longing catches me off guard and I press a fist to my mouth, almost biting down on the knuckles. Despite it, I manage to say, “Yeah, he wouldn’t have.”
I think Beth smiles. It’s a little sad but I hear it in her voice. “He feels too much, Willow. And all of it is inside of him. I don’t think he ever got to express anything of his own. His dad wasn’t there so he took care of his mom and she was so vivacious and bright. Too bright, almost. He never got the chance to ever shine. Simon is not good at expressing things.”
“I know.”
“He’s always been reserved, too restrained and the only time I’ve seen him come alive was when he was with you. The only time I’ve seen him either smile or even happy, was when you were there. And I know that he shouldn’t have done the things he did. But he needs you, Willow. He needs you so much and that’s the reason he’ll never tell you because that’s just the way he is. He doesn’t take failures or weaknesses lightly. He doesn’t ask for help.” Pausing, she says, “I promised myself that I wouldn’t tell you. I’ve already done enough damage. I’ve been less than professional. It doesn’t matter what he’s going through because I know he’s hurt you. Immensely. But I know that he lo—”
“Don’t say it, please.”
I wipe off my tears and sit up straight, my heart beating painfully in my ribcage, breaking bones, flaying my muscles.
I don’t think I can take it, hearing it from someone else. It’s more hurtful. More torturous than him not saying it.
“You wanted to know what happened that day. I told him that I had feelings for him. I stupidly told him that I was born for him.” I chuckle and it turns into a sob. “And he told me that I was immature. He told me that he didn’t feel the same way. And I was heartbroken. Sometimes I can’t stop laughing about how ironic everything is. I came to Heartstone claiming that I tried to kill myself because I was heartbroken. But I didn’t even know the meaning of heartbreak until him. I didn’t even know that I was capable of really losing my mind until him.”
“Willow –”
“Beth, the thing is that I’ve been waiting for him for a long time now. I fought for him, tried to make him see that we belonged together. Tried to show that I trusted him. And I did that because I always thought that deep down, he felt the same way. I always thought that he was trying to say something to me, but for some reason, he couldn’t. And he didn’t. Not even at the end. And then, he left. He didn’t even come back. The last thing I remember from that day is dying in his arms, with him looking down at me. Or maybe I was hoping to die, I don’t know. So yeah, I don’t understand what you want from me. I don’t know why you told me all this. He doesn’t need me. He doesn’t need anyone. And trust me that he definitely doesn’t want me. Unless they changed the whole wishing process and now, you magically get everything you wish for.”
Wiping my tears again, I look at the ceiling. “And I don’t think we should talk anymore because I should be trying to move on rather than being hung up on the past. Heartstone. Him.”
She’s silent but unlike other times, I hear her. I hear her chopped breaths and little noises of cries. I must sound the same.
Both crying for a man who probably doesn’t even know that we’re secretly tearing up for him.
“All right. I won’t. I never should have started it in the first place. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. But before I go, I wanted to tell you one thing. The reason I brought it up today is because… well, Alistair, he passed away a few days ago.”
“I’m sorry?”
“He had Alzheimer’s and it had gotten pretty bad. We were expecting it but not really, you know. Anyway, there’s a funeral tomorrow at the cemetery by the hospital. I was calling to see if you’d like to come, but I’ll understand if you don’t.”
“I…”
“In fact, you shouldn’t. You should move on,” she says in a choked-up voice. “I can’t even tell you how proud I am of you. How much you’ve grown. You were one of the best patients at Heartstone and I’ve really enjoyed talking to you. Please know that. And please reach out to me, if you ever need anything. You’re not just a patient to me, okay?” Before she hangs up, she whispers, “Simon would’ve been lucky to have you.”
With a click she’s gone and the phone slips from my hands.
I feel dizzy but I can’t do anything about it. I can’t bury my head in between my knees. I can’t sit there until I feel better. I have to know.
Rubbing the tattoo on my left wrist that sits right above my blue vein, I walk out of the room.
I go to Renn and say, “Tell me about Claire.”