July
The pancakes smile back at me from my plate, the bacon perfectly shaped into a semi-circle, the eyes each half of a grape, and the nose a lit candle. Joseph claps his hands excitedly. Nurse Lisa smiles at me, squeezing my shoulder.
“Happy birthday,” she says. “The big 2-9, right?”
I would love to be twenty-six—as Emily was. It feels like I’ve lost three years of my life. But I also feel as if I’ve gained so much more. Priceless memories. “Thank you.”
Joseph begins to sing, horribly off-key, but the lyrics warm my heart. “Happy birthday to you...” he begins. The others in the room slowly follow suit, my cheeks flushing at the mild embarrassment.
When the singing stops, Nurse Lisa says, “Well, make a wish.”
I smile, my chest inflating with a deep breath, blowing it out in one quick whoosh. “Thanks, guys. This means a lot.”
I never thought I’d spend my birthday in a psychiatric ward—not exactly the birthday bash I would have liked. Then again, I never expected to always mark the anniversary of my parents’ death, either. But these are the lemons life gave me, and I’m doing my best with them. One day soon I should be out of here, I hope, but it’s been over a month now—close to two. Dr. Caldwell says I need to remember more things first, but what if I never do? The thought scares me, being in here forever. Sure, I have Joseph, and Nurse Lisa is nice, but I have a dog, a home. I need to get back to living—regardless of who I am.
Joseph and I finish breakfast and head to the common area. I watch from across the room as he visits with his family—the side hugs given by his wife and teenage son. The visits are always awkward, none of them being able to let go of the past. Their family had been traveling, heading north to New York for the week, when Joseph fell asleep at the wheel. Their four-year-old daughter was killed on impact. It was hard on their marriage in the beginning, Joseph has told me, as it would be for any couple who goes through something like that. But when the one-year anniversary of little Avery’s death came around, he lost his mind. Jumped off the roof of his house onto the concrete patio. Broke some bones and injured his liver. He didn’t die, obviously. He made another attempt a year later, and he’s been in here ever since. And every time the doctor asks him if he wants to harm himself, he says yes, because, to him, the eight years his daughter has been gone are still raw—an oozing, exposed wound.
“Hey, you.”
My head turns to see Jared as he sits next to me.
I smile at him. “I’m happy you came.”
Jared has faithfully visited me for the last six-and-a-half weeks, but each week a heavy feeling weighs on my stomach, worried he won’t show up. I can’t explain why it happens. I have no reason to feel betrayed, but I always breathe a sigh of relief when I see his face. He’s a good friend. I can’t imagine ever having hurt him on purpose. The thought makes me sad.
“Happy birthday.” He kisses my cheek, and then places a birthday bag on my lap.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
I pull at the tissue paper, tossing it on the chair beside me, and pull out a framed photo. Lucy sits perched in the grass somewhere, her tongue hanging from her mouth, happy eyes smiling at me. I hug the photo to my chest as if it allows me to feel her fur, and her, against my skin.
“You like it?”
“I love it, Jared. Thank you.” I place it on the chair.
His smile widens, his teeth pure snow against his skin, which is even darker than usual. “Listen, uh … I want to talk to you about something.”
I turn my body toward him, a disorderly patient momentarily stealing my attention before I meet his eyes again. “Okay?”
“I was wondering if you would be open to seeing—”
“Happy birthday, Ivy...”
My eyes dart around Jared to find six feet of perfection—mussed hair and blazing eyes, his dark brows knitted together. He steals my breath, my chest caving in at the sight of him. It feels like ages since I’ve seen that hard jaw, the curves and lines of his arms.
Jared looks at him disappointingly, a hand gesturing out to him. “What happened to waiting outside?”
Brooks shrugs. “Sorry. I was afraid she’d say no, and I wanted to be the one to give it to her.”
For a moment, I can’t speak, still stunned at the angel in front of me. But then, “G—give me what?”
He brings the container in his hand up to his chest. Pulls off the lid and takes out something that hammers along every inch of me. “It’s a cupcake muffin,” he says, holding up the Cool-Whip-topped cake with a pink candle in the center. “I don’t know if you remember, but—”
My head nods as I reach out to take it. “I do.” I rotate it in my hands, noting the swipes of the knife, marveling at its simplicity yet ability to evoke such elation within me.
Jared stands, bends, and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll give you a few minutes alone if you want.”
I look up at him, my head nodding. Brooks sits beside me, our bodies turned to face each other, but my eyes trained on the floor.
“How are you?” he asks, then pulls the cupcake muffin from my hands before putting it back into the container. He sets it beside me.
My hands are restless, wringing together as I get the urge to go after Jared and beg him to come back.
“You’re shaking,” Brooks says, his fingers reaching out to steady my arm.
I flinch at his touch, not because I don’t want it, but because I don’t deserve it. “Sorry. I—I didn’t expect you.”
“I can come back. Another time.”
I shake my head, eyes still fixed on the floor, hands still kneading. “No, it’s okay. I just can’t understand why you’d want to come here. I mean, what about Kate? What about Eliza? What will everyone think of you?”
His jaw tics. “I haven’t talked to Kate since she walked out of my house that day. She messaged me a few times, but I didn’t respond. And who cares about Eliza? She has bigger things to worry about, like her divorce proceedings and staying up all night with a baby.”
I swallow. “Why did you come?”
“I’ve been thinking about you.”
I stop breathing, my hands stilling. “You … you have?”
“Every day. I wanted to come sooner, but Jared thought it would be better if I waited until you—”
“I remember us, Brooks—the old us.” The words are heavy in my mouth, boulders not wanting to move.
“You do? I mean, Jared told me you remembered some things, but...”
I find his eyes. Force myself to look at them. “I remember everything about us now, except...”
“Except what?”
“Except the terrible things—the awful things.”