Love, Always (11 page)

“You’re so stupid,” I laugh. “They looked good?”

“Not nearly as pretty as you.” She points to my face and I grimace. I can feel the damage Samantha did to me.

“Did you see her? Does she look nearly as bad as me?”

“Nah, babe. She’s barely got a scratch on her.”

“You’re shitting me, right?” I ask, and she shakes her head at me.

“Adam’s mom came by too.”

I look back at her curiously. I know she sees Adam often and she takes care of Josie when Adam comes to see me by himself, but I haven’t seen her since I made a spectacle of myself at my surprise baby shower. Shame fills me, knowing his mom knows my weaknesses as well as everyone else. How little she must think of me.

“Can we get some sleep now?”

“No.” I decide and Hayley leans on her elbow to look at me. “You know everything about me, but I still don’t know anything about you. Talk.”

“Feelin’ brave after your first brawl?” she snorts.

“Yeah, so talk, slut.”

She sighs, probably deciding whether it’d just be easier to go back to her room and I’m almost sorry I said anything. It felt good to wake up to someone watching over me. Even if her watching over me comprises of her drooling on my pillow. Disgusting.

“I had a twin sister,” she says to my surprise. “We were identical in everything but our personalities. Where I was outgoing, she was an introvert. I had friends, lots of them, and she was the loner with her nose stuck in a book. She was insecure and lonely, and I was so busy making people like me I didn’t see it.” Hayley stays quiet for a while and so do I. I’m not sure if she’s done with her story, but I don’t want to interrupt in case she’s not. “Hannah was the depressed one. She went to therapists and took medication. I thought she was a whack job and was embarrassed to be related to her. She was also the nice one, the forgiving one, the one who never let me down no matter how many times I let her down. I guarantee you she’d never leave me in here alone. She’d visit me. Hell, she’d probably admit herself just to be with me.”

“What happened to her?” I ask but am afraid to hear the answer.

“She killed herself. She took all her medications at once. She left me a note, telling me she loved me and that there was nothing I could have done to have helped her. You know, on the day of her death, she was worried I’d blame myself. Who does that?”

“She loved you,” I offered, knowing it’s not enough.

“But am I worthy of that kind of love?”

The answer is yes, we all are, but I doubt Hayley actually expects or wants an answer. With tears in her eyes, she turns around so she is facing away from me, so I scoot closer to her and put my arms around her waist. My heart hurts for her, for her loss, for the guilt she carries inside of her.

I wonder if that’s why she chose to speak to me on my first day here. Did she see my pain and guilt? Did she see we were kindred spirits? Did she think we could help one another move on? It doesn’t matter. We’re here, and from this moment we are in this struggle together.

Even though I know she doesn’t want to hear it, I tell her anyway. Because it’s true. “We’re all worthy of that type of love,” I whisper.

Adam

Dee. My thoughts always go back to her. They usually also start with her. She encompasses most of my thoughts, so much so that I’m happy for this tour. I’m glad to be away from her so that I can break away from her. It’s painful to see her, to touch her, without really being seen or touched by her.

Her thoughts still surround Josh. It’s been almost a year since Josh’s death and her pain is still as much a part of her as it was the days following his death. Maybe more so.

So, I am using this time to regroup and refocus my energies on my band and the goals Josh and I once set.

I owe it to him to reach all of his goals.

Ten years old

My heart slams hard and fast, wanting to escape the confines of my chest, so I hold my chest and breathe. My knees are weak and I know they’ll start to tremble any minute. I look back at my friend and smile. He looks so sure of himself, he knows he killed it.

I did pretty well too. I saw Mom in the audience and my heart swelled with pride when she stood up after my piano recital and cheered louder than anyone else there.

I fumbled a few of my notes, but no one seemed to notice. Honestly, I’m just glad I didn’t vomit on stage.

“You were awesome out there.” Josh puts his hand on my shoulder and I beam back at him.

Josh is more than just awesome. He plays the piano, sure, but he’s a beast on the drums. He’s also been teaching me how to play guitar after school so we can start our own band. All we need is a singer. I haven’t told him I can sing yet, because what if I really can’t? Mom likes my voice, but she’s my mom; she’s supposed to like my voice.

Mom hugs me and Josh when she sees us. “You boys did amazing.”

I nod, a bit embarrassed, because Josh’s parents aren’t here, and I wonder if he thinks I’m a dork because my mom goes to my practices and shows, but he smiles at her before giving her a big hug that she quickly returns.

“What do you think?” she asks over Josh’s head. “Pizza or burgers?”

“Burgers!” Josh and I respond at the same time.

“Your mom’s pretty great,” Josh says, punching my arm as we follow her to her car.

He’s right; she is pretty great. She fought hard and sometimes I think she’s won, but other times I find her in Tommy’s room, holding what would have been his blanket to her chest as she sings softly to a son she never had.

I lay in my bed with my laptop as I answer the hundreds of emails from my blog subscribers as Hayley squirts water at me from a water gun Adam brought us from his recent stop in New Orleans. I don’t know why he’d choose a water gun as a souvenir, but that’s Adam.

And I’m seriously starting to reconsider Hayley’s and my great idea of rooming together as I feel the back of my yoga pants grow wetter and wetter. It only took us a little over a month to convince our jailers we’d behave. Water gun aside, I like rooming with Hayley. She’s like this endless supply of ridiculousness that I feel I’ve been starving for my whole life. She’s fun, spontaneous and completely absurd.

I’m not sure what the nurses think of us, but they leave us to our own devices. At least, they usually do. They did put a stop to our dueling match. Apparently wheelchairs should not be ridden as horses any more than bottled water should be used as swords.

“Get off the computer. I’m bored,” Hayley complains from her bed.

“Go do something then,” I tell her as I finish my reply to a Gianna who has been considering seeing a therapist to help with her anxiety.

When I started writing my blog a little over a month ago, I didn’t think anyone would read it. I wrote because writing once brought me peace, and I needed that peace more than I needed my next breath of air. The fact that my words and my experiences are reaching people is just an added bonus. I go through my messages daily, devoting an hour a day to responding before I write my next post. Sometimes I post about my day or my feelings, which seems narcissistic and self-helping, so other days I devote a few posts addressing recurring issues I am messaged about. Either post is narcissistic and self-helping, because I enjoy writing. I love the very idea that what I write is being read by thousands. Really, thousands. That’s how many people follow my blog.

My timer goes off, warning me that I only have twenty minutes left until my hour is up, so I push send and open my last email for the day. My mouth drops when I read it, so I read it again.

“What? What is it?” Hayley leaves her bed and joins me on mine. I give her the laptop and let her read.

I wonder if it’s real. Can someone actually want to pay me to blog about my experience? Why would someone want to pay me for something I’m already doing for free? It doesn’t make any sense, but nothing in my life has ever really made any sense.

Hayley closes my laptop before giving it back to me. “So?”

“So what?” I ask.

“Don’t be a shit. Are you gonna do it?”

“It doesn’t sound legit.”

“I agree.” She nods. “But I’m willing to pay you loads of money if you leave your cyber buddies for the day and spend some time with your real life, in the flesh friend.”

“Wait, why do you agree?”

“Because I need your attention today.”

“You’ll get my attention when you give me a decent answer,” I counter.

“I should have made friends with Samantha,” she moans as she throws herself on my pillow dramatically.

“You’re stuck with me.” I poke her and she gives me a one fingered salute. “Why do you agree?”

“Think about it, Dee. When does anything good ever happen to you?” she asks and runs out the room before I can slap her.

A lot of help she was! I forward the email to Adam, knowing he’ll take it more seriously. Dr. Rios has been reminding me that I can’t live in the hospital forever, and that when I get out I need to do something with my life. I need a purpose. Being a good mom is one purpose, but what am I going to do when I’m not being a mom? Writing might be a good idea. It’d beat every other alternative Dr. Rios has offered.

I could be a writer. Why not?

I close my laptop and run out of my room with my water gun so I can chase down Hayley. I find her flirting with one of the new male patients, so I hide behind a chair and point my gun at her crotch. I squirt her several times before she notices and jumps on me. We struggle with the gun, but eventually she takes it away from me and squirts me in the face until I am choking on my own laughter.  

I push Hayley off of me and we lie on the dirty hospital floor, still laughing. The new guy crouches down in front of us, watching us with a perplexed look on his face which only sends us into a greater fit of laughter.

“Are you two okay?” he asks when we finally sit up.

“We’re in a hospital with crazy people,” Hayley whispers in response. “None of us are okay.”

I stand up, helping Hayley up in the process. We ignore the stares from our fellow crazies as we guide the new guy to our regular table.

“I’m Dee,” I offer once we’re sitting.

“Max.”

“So what brings you here, Max?” Hayley asks, as if we were having a normal conversation in a normal location.

Max looks around as if he’s afraid the others might hear him so we lean in closer to the table. “You can’t tell anyone,” he whispers, and we both dutifully nod our heads. “The CIA wants me.”