Life Is but a Dream (3 page)

Amanda is with me. She’s one of the few girls here that I talk to. Or, well, we don’t exactly talk. She’s real quiet and so am I. I guess we just like to be quiet together. We always walk together after our group session because her room is near mine and she doesn’t like to be alone. I don’t know if that makes us friends or not. Things like friendship are harder to understand here.

When I see Alec, I’m happy. There’s something about him that makes me want to talk and sing and be noisy—something about him that makes me feel real, like the person I am in my dreams.

Amanda doesn’t like when things don’t happen exactly the same way every time. The nurses say that’s part of what’s wrong with her.

—
What’s that boy doing there?
— she asks me.

—
It’s okay
— I tell her. —
That’s Alec. I know him.
—

He looks up when he hears my voice and I see him smile. I see his eyes light up behind his hair, shining on me like spotlights. I’m not surprised to see he came for me. He will always come for me. That’s what it means to know each other in a dream before ever being awake. I can’t explain how I know, but I do—like something my heart whispers to me.

—
Hey
— he says, pushing with his legs so that his back slides up the wall until we are face-to-face. His hands are nervous bundles in front of his pockets until he hides them away and raises his shoulders. —
I stole a look at the nurses’ schedules and kind of figured out where your room was. Hope you don’t mind me waiting here for you. It’s just, you’re kind of the only one here I know … so, I thought maybe …—

I’m grinning as I shake my head. —
I don’t mind
— I say, feeling my skin turning pink.

Amanda is biting her nails and fidgeting with her hair. When Alec holds his hand out for her, she jumps back a step. —
I’m going to go, okay, Sabrina?
— she says like she’s asking permission, but she doesn’t even wait for me to say good-bye before slipping around Alec and disappearing into her room three doors away.

—
She’s real friendly
— Alec says, raising his eyebrows.

—
She’s just … shy
— I tell him. —
She doesn’t know you.
—

Alec shuffles his feet. He lowers his head but never takes his eyes off of mine. —
I didn’t mean to intrude or anything. Do you want me to go?
—

I shake my head. I don’t want to be with anyone but him. As soon as I saw him, it was as if the walls of the hospital evaporated and there was only us.

—
Alright, cool. You want to go for a walk or something?
— he asks.

I nod. I have free time between now and when I meet with Dr. Richards. —
Let’s go outside
— I say. —
I can show you around.
—

—
Show me around what?
— Alec says. —
Is there really anything to see?
—

—
Sure there is
— I say. —
There’s the lawn and then behind it are the trees. There’s even a little path so that it’s kind of like being in the woods.
—

—
That doesn’t seem like much
— Alec says, grinning.

—
It’s not
— I say softly, tracing my lips with my fingers and turning away. —
But if you look at it the right way … it’s really kind of perfect. I can’t really explain it.
— When I turn back, I’m worried he won’t understand. I’m afraid he’ll look at me with strange eyes the way Kayliegh sometimes does when I say things that are different. He’s not though. The way he stares at me lets me know that he does understand.

—
Sounds okay to me
— he says. —
Let’s make a deal. You show me what you see and I tell you what I see. Deal?
—

Once we step into the fresh air, I feel free—better than I’ve felt in a long time. I rush out onto the grass, smiling up at the sky. I don’t look behind me. I know he’s following me.

I run until I reach the little tree that isn’t much more than a sapling. Still, it’s taller than me and I wrap my hand around the skinny trunk, spinning around to face Alec. The tree’s branches reach down and tickle my hair and I laugh just once before letting go to join him on our walk.

I have more energy than I really know what to do with so I start to wrap the string of my sweatshirt hood around my wrist, only to unwrap it and start over again. I keep forgetting he’s new here—that he hasn’t been here the whole time I have and isn’t used to anything yet.

—
Have they started your routine yet?
— I ask him.

—
I guess. I mean, they have me scheduled for things all day
— he says. —
I still don’t understand the point of any of it though. I don’t belong here, so I don’t know what it’s supposed to do for me. Whatever. It’s all a waste of time.
—

—
Why?
— I ask, because sometimes I wonder the same thing.

—
Because there’s nothing wrong with me
— Alec says. —
You know what it is? Our society is so screwed up, from top to bottom, everything about it, that it’s become impossible to fix. It’s easier to change people and make them fit into something that’s broken. Know what I mean?
—

I’ve seen cracks in the sky and people swallowed up inside of them.

I’ve seen computers steal souls a little bit at a time.

—
Yeah, I think I do
— I say. —
I think I know exactly what you mean.
—

—
And it’s insane, right?
— Alec says. —
But the worst part about it is that they try to convince us that we’re the defects. We’re not defects. It’s the whole world that’s gone off the rails. We’re just victims of the Modern Age and being in here is our punishment.
—

—
It’s not so bad
— I say. —
I don’t mind it here most of the time.
—

—
But you’d rather not be here, right?
— he asks. —
I bet you got like a million friends or whatever. I’m sure you’d rather be with them. Unless of course you have the wrong kind of friends and that’s why you’re in a place like this?
—

I place the end of my sleeve in my mouth and keep it there for a second before shaking my head. —
Not really. I mean, I don’t really have a ton of friends. Not swarms of them anyway.
—

—
Yeah? Why not?
—

—
I don’t know
— I say. —
I have some friends. I never had to walk to class by myself or sit alone at lunch or anything like that. I was just never popular because to be like that you have to be a girl who doesn’t draw fairies on the outside of book covers.
—

—
Do you really draw fairies on your books?
— he asks, and I nod shyly. —
Fairies can be kind of wicked and evil. They’re pretty awesome.
—

—
My friends think they’re for little kids
— I say.

—
What do they know? They’re probably all into vampires
— Alec says, shaking his head. —
Isn’t it stupid how one thing can be cool and the other isn’t just because the Pop Culture Police say so? I never did understand that. But I guess that’s why you have to be a bit brain-dead to be popular.
—

—
Being popular doesn’t matter that much to me
— I say.

—
Me either
— Alec says. —
I went to this private school and it’s all these kids from Brentwood or wherever. I didn’t want to be part of that crowd. It’s all about money and name-dropping famous people and getting into the right parties with the right people. I guess being who I am was always more important.
—

—
That must be why we belong together
— I blurt out.

Alec smiles. —
You think we belong together?
—

—
I know it
— I say, and then I race ahead a few steps and turn around to face him. When I do, my hands are on my knees and I’m laughing. As I watch him look at me like I’m special, it’s so easy to forget about the way all the kids at school looked at me once their hellos in the hall were replaced with whispers. It was like all of a sudden, nobody could see the bright side of my personality—they only saw my flaws. Alec makes me remember the better parts.

—
Sabrina? Will you draw a fairy for me?
— he asks.

—
I’ll draw you a million things
— I answer, smiling.

When his hand touches my arm, I feel like I’m ready to explode. There are fireworks going off inside of me. My eyes sparkle. My heartbeat flutters like a tiny rabbit and I feel as though I never want him to let go. I wonder if this is how Kayliegh feels about Thomas? But it can’t be. Not with him. Not like this. Because when she’s with Thomas, she changes.

When I’m with Alec, I feel like me again.

*   *   *

—
You seem to be doing better today
— Dr. Richards says after we’ve been talking for a few minutes. Not about anything interesting, just about things like my day so far and what I had for lunch. She makes the comment about me doing better after I tell her about the tacos. Borrowing something Kayliegh always said, I told Dr. Richards how they looked like rolled-up crap but tasted like a million bucks. Then I laughed and to Dr. Richards that means I’m doing better. —
You’re very talkative today.
—

Sometimes I don’t feel like talking.

Sometimes I roam around the room quietly as her eyes track my every step, waiting for me to be still or to look in her direction or show any sign that I’m willing to have some sort of conversation. I always know she’s watching and it makes me want to talk even less. When I’m in one of those moods, I usually stay by the shelves of stuffed animals and books meant for the younger kids here. Even if they aren’t supposed to be for me, I’m allowed to pick them up whenever I want. I rarely do. I prefer to just let my fingers slide over the different textures—tracing their sewn-on smiles, brightened by sewn-on eyes.

Sometimes when I don’t feel like talking, Dr. Richards doesn’t care so much. On those days, she just wants me to draw pictures the same way Kayliegh used to. —
Just draw for me what you saw
— she says. Then she looks at the pictures, pointing out things here and there before asking if she can take them with her only to ask me more about them at some other session.

Today is not like any of those days.

I’m sitting across from her—looking at her without trying to hide my face. Today is one of the days I feel like talking. Meeting Alec has made me this way. In the last week, we’ve never been apart unless we had to be. Finding someone who accepts the way I am has made me want to not hide anymore. It’s carried over into my sessions with Dr. Richards. It’s like I want to make her understand about how I see the world even though I’m not sure she can. I guess I’m just getting tired of being alone in the room with her questions all the time. I want to fill it with my own words instead.

—
Nurse Abrams tells me you’ve been more social lately. She says she’s seen you with some of the other patients. Have you made many friends?
— Dr. Richards asks.

—
Some
.—

I think about Alec and how we ate breakfast together today.

He had cereal and I had watermelon and we talked about foods we hate. He hates yogurt because he says even saying the name sounds like throwing something up. I told him that I don’t like carrots because their color is too bright and they taste the same as chewing aspirin.

Thinking about him, I feel my cheeks getting redder and I look away. But Dr. Richards never misses anything or any chance for a new question. —
Is one of these friends of yours a boy?
—

—
Maybe
— I say, and she grins at me.

—
That happens quite a bit around here
— she says. Leaning forward in her chair, she acts more like an older sister home from college asking me about a new boyfriend. Not that I have an older sister or anything. It’s just the way I picture it. Probably from some movie I saw once but can’t remember. Or maybe it’s the way Dr. Richards squints to make it look like she’s super interested. Deep down, I think she’s just trying to be like an older sister because she thinks it will get me to open up.

It almost works too.

I’m so close to telling her about Alec but then I pause to think about what I would say. I listen to myself in my head and wonder if she would ever believe it if I told her something from my dreams is true and real and in this very hospital.

She wouldn’t.

Her job is to convince me that those things are less than what they seem. It’s better not to say anything.

I can tell my newfound silence worries her. Afraid of losing me to the quiet, she drops the sister act. She straightens her posture and smoothes the hair away from her face, making herself suddenly look five or ten years older and smarter. —
There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I think it’s a good thing
— she says. —
Showing interest in a boy means you’re making progress. It’s important for you to make connections with other people. It means that the medicine is working.
—

The link between the two puzzles me and makes me talkative again.

—
How so?
—

It pleases her that I ask—that I’m showing an interest in my own well-being. I know because her eyebrows normally stay in a straight line but now one of them arches curiously upward just before she speaks. —
Well, the pills I’ve prescribed for you should help you communicate with others better by helping to clear your mind of all the clutter
— she says.

—
What clutter?
— I ask.

—
For example … the noise you’ve talked about.
—

During other sessions I’ve told her about the noise. The invisible noise that only I can hear—a noise that sounds like the mumbling of a million broken voices saying nothing at all or the hum of the wind through an open car window at seventy miles per hour. I can even see the noise sometimes. It circles above people like a clear vulture with sparks of electricity in its wings—hovering dangerously above their heads before swooping down. But that’s kind of separate from the noise and also part of it at the same time. The part I can see, I call static. The noise is only the roar of its footsteps.