by Tess Oliver
My hand shot up. “I’ve heard it.”
She smiled again, but this time it was more out of annoyance. She slipped the book under her clipboard. “Great, since we all know about Alexander’s very bad, terrible day, I thought we’d tell some of our own stories about a particularly bad day in our life. Is there something someone would like to share with group? No judgment, of course.”
I cleared my throat. “Seems like I’ve heard that promise somewhere before.”
“You’re right, Tommy. In the last session, I broke one of my biggest rules, and I will not do it again. Doctor’s honor.”
Mandy raised her hand. The girl did love center stage, a place that I planned to stay off of today. While Mandy began her terrible day story, I slipped a glance over at Sugar. Her long lashes shaded her cheeks as she stared down at the ground. I couldn’t tell if she was just making sure to avoid me or if she was deep in thought. Her bottom lip pushed out slightly, a clue that she was thinking about something and it wasn’t a happy something. I’d memorized so many of her facial expressions, I had them catalogued in my brain. This was sadness.
To the side of me, I could hear Mandy whining about losing out on a movie part to an actress who was clearly too fat for the part. She was definitely one of those weight obsessed people. She finished her little story, or at least I thought she had. I wasn’t listening because I kept looking across the group at Sugar. Something was going on with her.
Mandy finished and sat back, pleased with her little tale of horror. Dr. Kirkendall glanced around the group. It seemed no one was too keen on this idea. “Anyone else have a story about a bad day?”
“I have one.” Sugar’s voice sounded so lost, so different, I hadn’t even realized it was her at first.
Dr. Kirkendall seemed to finally notice what I, with my untrained eye, had already seen. Sugar raised her hand to push a strand of hair behind her ear. That was when I saw that her fingers were trembling. I looked over at Kirkendall. I wanted her to move on to the next person. It was making my own stomach knot up, seeing Sugar like this, shaky, upset, not herself.
The rest of the group sat still as statues, waiting.
“If you would like to share, then please go ahead, Sugar,” Kirkendall prodded. She loved to prod. There must have been a fucking class in psych school that taught prodding because the woman was skilled at it.
Sugar’s throat moved as she swallowed. She still hadn’t looked at me, almost as if she couldn’t see me sitting there across from her, begging her silently not to do this. My asshole behavior had made me invisible. But I saw her, every flicker of sadness in her blue eyes, every nervous bite of her lip. I saw it all.
“When I was seven,” she paused, “I had a terrible day.”
A laugh nearly burst from my mouth. She was bullshitting. She was doing this because of our argument yesterday. She was going to make some dramatic bunch of garbage up to get back at me. Then despair filled her expression, a flood of emotion that knocked the breath from me.
“If you’d like to wait, Sugar, and talk to me about this in our private session—”
Sugar shook her head. “No, I’m all right.” Her thin shoulders lifted and fell as she took a deep breath. “It was a Saturday. My neighbor Kate and I were best friends. We hung out a lot. I had a little plastic playhouse in the backyard. She’d brought her little sister, Megan, with her. We were going to have a tea party in the playhouse.” Her lashes dropped down again. “Megan was four. She was this little three foot bundle of giggles.” She paused, and the room was silent. Even the walls were listening. “She loved this one doll of mine so much, sometimes she would take it home to babysit. Then Megan would bring her back and tell me all the naughty things my doll had done while she was watching her.” A small laugh fell from her soft, sad lips. “We’d gone into the playhouse for the tea party. As I picked up the teapot, a spider crawled out.” She smiled weakly. “Of course, we ran back out. The tea party was cancelled. So we started playing out on the grass.” Sugar’s blue eyes flickered my direction for a second. The only sound in the room was the occasional clicking of Jayleen biting her nails.
For a long moment, it seemed that Sugar was transported back to that Saturday with her friends and the spider and the cancelled tea party. She looked down at her hands. “I had this toy, a pretend lawnmower. It would make a popping sound when you rolled it across the ground. It was one of those toys that you get when you’re a toddler, but that you don’t have the heart to throw away. My grandmother had given it to me, although I had been too little to remember. It was made of wood. ‘The sturdiest toys are made of wood and they last forever’ my grandmother had said one day when she saw me playing with it.” Her voice wavered, and that glow that always swirled around her, that glow that maybe only I could see but it was there. It was always there. But it had dimmed now. Her shoulders looked smaller as she shrank down some in the chair. I wanted to walk over, pull her into my arms and take her out of this stupid room.
“Sugar, are you doing all right?” Kirkendall asked.
Sugar nodded. She drifted off into her own thoughts before continuing. “I was always spinning, or twirling or somersaulting. My mom used to tell me I made her tired just watching me. Kate was on my swing and Megan,” a sob slipped out as she said the little girl’s name.
I was sitting there with a group of people watching her tell the story, but it was as if no one else was in the room but us, as if someone had put a frame around Sugar, blocking out everything else. All I could see was Sugar, the girl who made me dizzy without even spinning, sitting there pouring her heart out.
“I’m not even sure why I did it. I picked up the mower and started twirling around and around. The faster I went, the heavier the toy felt at the end of my fingers.” A tear spilled down Sugar’s cheek. I clenched every muscle in my body to stop the ache I was feeling. It was as if I was feeling everything she’d felt on that horrible day. Kirkendall glanced my direction and then wrote something down. I had no idea why the hell she would focus on me when Sugar’s heart was breaking right in front of her. In front of me.
“Centrifugal force,” Sugar said suddenly. “That’s how Julian explained it to me.”
“You relayed this story to Julian?” Kirkendall asked.
Sugar nodded. “We were playing chess one night when neither of us could sleep. And I told him. Julian doesn’t always talk, but he’s a really good listener.”
“I agree,” Kirkendall said.
She’d told Julian but not me. I was pissed for a fleeting second but then remembered that I, too, talked to Julian when I was upset and needed a good pair of ears.
“Centrifugal force caused the toy to slip from my little fingers. I laughed when it flew across the yard. Then I dropped down, completely dizzy and not sure which way was up. As I regained my bearings—” The soft, shuddering breath she took made my chest fill with hot lead. “I heard Kate crying. She was knelt down next to Megan. She’s asleep,” I told myself. “She’s asleep or pretending. Silly, little, bubbly Megan was tricking us. I got up and walked over to Kate. The mower, the sturdy wood toy, was next to Megan’s little body. There was just a tiny smear of blood on the side of her head. ‘Why is she bleeding?’ I asked Kate. Kate screamed and ran from the yard to get her mom. I tapped Megan’s shoulder, but she didn’t wake up. Little kids aren’t allowed to die I told myself over and over again. I was sure there was no such thing as death for little kids. She was just sleeping.” Jayleen and Mandy had tears running down their faces, and Dr. Kirkendall looked pale.
Sugar was shaking now, and I felt stiff in my chair as if nothing could pry me off the fucking seat.
“My mom— she grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard and told me I was too damn wild, that I was always spinning and never thinking. The ambulance sirens drowned her out after awhile, and I floated away from the scene. My body was still there but my mind had gone back into the playhouse where Kate and Megan and I were serving tea to my dolls.”
Kirkendall passed around the box of tissue she kept under the chair. She took one for herself. I sat as if someone had filled my legs and arms with cement. Sugar sat back to signal that she was done. No real way to follow that terrible day scenario. Sugar’s gaze once again flitted my direction. Then she pulled it away.
Kirkendall ended the group early and stayed in the room with Sugar while we all walked out. I headed straight outside, lighting my cigarette long before I was out of sight of the front desk. Nurse Greene could chase me down on her size three shoes, and try and pull it from my mouth. I didn’t give a fuck.
I leaned against the trunk of the mulberry tree and smoked my cigarette. I hadn’t taken the time to walk out to the bars, and it would only be a few minutes before someone poked their head outside to tell me to put it out. That was all right. I only needed a few puffs to take some of the edge off.
I squeezed it between my thumb and forefinger like I was pressing a joint to my lips. More than any of the other stuff I’d ingested or smoked or drank, I missed the weed. Not in an addictive way either, just in a comfort from an old friend sort of way. It sure as hell would have been nice to have some now. After that.
Three small birds dropped onto the edge of the fountain. They twittered beneath the cool spray of water, enjoying a break from the heat. I thought about what Julian had said, about the birds in the fountain. It had been obvious, I suppose. I’d never tried to hide the fact that I loved her, not to anyone . . . but Sugar. I’d always been on guard with her. Figured I was already twisted up enough inside, the last thing I needed was someone like Sugar to twist me up more. She wasn’t someone you could just hang out with, have a good time with, maybe fuck and then move on. She was someone who would become part of your soul. Someone who would work her way into your heart and never leave. No matter what came in between, she would always be there.
“Tommy—” Nurse Greene stuck her head out the door. “Extinguish the cigarette, please.”
I closed my eyes and took one last hit of tobacco before heading back inside. The cool air of the building felt good as I headed around the corner to go back to my room. It seemed like the best place to be. I didn’t even feel like talking to Julian. I just wanted to stretch out on my bed and close my eyes.
Sugar stepped out of Kirkendall’s office as I passed it. Her tiny button of a nose was pink from crying, and the tears had made her eyes even bluer. She looked at me. Her bottom lip still trembled the slightest bit, and she hadn’t regained her usual radiant, confident composure.
I took hold of her hand and she let me. I pulled her around the corner to the small, deserted hallway that led to the maintenance room. I pulled her into my arms, and once again, she let me.
“Tommy,” she whispered. The sound of it went straight through my chest.
We were locked in each other’s arms, and it was how I’d expected it to be, intense, hardcore, as if every thread between us became connected and complete. But then she pulled back. I reached my hand up to her face. She pressed her cheek against my palm for a second before shaking her head to push it away.
“No, Tommy, no sympathy. I didn’t do that in there, I didn’t just spill my guts out for some sympathy.” She swallowed hard. Her lip trembled again. “I did it to knock that fucking chip off your shoulder.” She walked away.
Chapter 9
I headed into the dining room. Sugar was there alone reading a magazine and drinking coffee. I grabbed a plate of eggs and sat next to her. We hadn’t talked since the moment in the hallway the day before. I’d spent the rest of the day and night in my room, thinking, remembering stuff and wondering what Sugar was doing while I wasn’t with her. I wasn’t sure if all the thinking and remembering could be classified as reflection though because I’d spent a good portion of that time thinking that what I really needed was a drink or a hit off something more potent than my Camel smokes. Probably not the best topic for reflection, but that was the way my mind kept going. This place was supposed to make me forget about all that shit, but so far, it seemed I’d end up being one of the twenty-three percent who went back to the same life and the same bad habits once they walked out of here. The Green Willow brochure never mentioned the twenty-three percent, only the supposed seventy-seven percent success rate. After reading the brochure my mom had handed me, and being the constant glass half-empty type, my mind had gone straight to calculating the chance I had to fail this whole fucking thing. Math was never my subject, but I knew damn well that seventy-seven percent was less than a hundred.
Sugar was reading an article about raising chickens. She hadn’t talked to me yet, but she hadn’t gotten up and moved away either. I figured I was making progress.
“You thinking of starting a farm?” I asked.
She snapped shut the magazine.
“What? I was serious. Damnit, Sugar, you never even give me a chance. Yeah, I’ve got a chip on my shoulder. Believe me, I’ve heard that phrase more times than I can count. Not even sure how the fuck it got there, but I’m working on it.” I stared at the side of her face. Her profile was one that couldn’t be duplicated, perfect and doll-like. “Just give me some leeway, would ya? I’m trying.”
She finally looked at me. Without warning, she pushed a long strand of hair off my face. I held my breath, and she knew it. She knew that even that small gesture would make the oxygen wall up in my lungs.
She lowered her hand. “I think it would be cool.” She glanced over at the magazine. “Living on a farm, I mean. Out in the country with lots of animals and a cozy house and a vegetable garden.”
“Yeah? I guess it might be nice.” I ate a forkful of eggs. She was talking to me, and my relief went straight to my empty stomach. I was friggin’ hungry. “Have you seen Jules this morning?” More than once during my long night of solitude and reminiscing about getting high, I’d wondered if Sugar had gone to Julian to talk about her group session. She’d made it quite clear that she wasn’t looking to me for comfort. That heartbreaking reality had probably set my mind to thinking about drugs and booze more than anything else.
“I think he’s in session with Kirkendall this morning.”
“Shit, that reminds me.” I looked back at the clock. “I’m seeing her in five minutes.”
“Group sessions? Making it to your appointments with the doctor? Why, Tommy Jameson, you’re becoming a model patient.”
“Just like you, I want to get the hell out of here someday. Decided I better play the game.”
She smiled. “And who knows, maybe you’ll find your way. That’s all I’m hoping to get out of being in here. I just want to find my way.”
I looked at her and wished I was better at knowing what to say, but unfortunately, I had more talent for saying the wrong thing. So I said nothing.
“For the longest time, telling that story was impossible for me,” she said. “It was like a radioactive poison that I had to walk a wide berth around. If I got too close, it would destroy me. But after some pretty intense therapy I was able to talk about it, accept that it had all been a horrible accident. I’d ruined people’s lives with my silly spinning. Megan’s mother was never the same. She used to always walk out to the mailbox in her frilly apron, smiling like one of those women who just couldn’t have been more satisfied with life. But after Megan’s death, I hardly ever saw her. If she came out of the house, she looked really gray and skinny as if she was just sitting inside at her kitchen table wringing her hands and crying for her little girl. We moved about a year later because my mom left Nick, the guy she was married to. I was relieved not to have to watch Megan’s mom get grayer and thinner.” She stared down at her coffee cup and shook her head. “Kate and I never spoke again, but my mom ran into her a few years ago. She was starting medical school that fall.” She smiled weakly. “She had to live through the nightmare of losing a sister and watching her mom fall apart, but she went on to make something of herself. And here I sit in Green Willow Recovery thinking about chickens and vegetable gardens.”
&n
bsp; “Hey, but you’re sitting here with Tommy Jameson. Don’t forget that little golden nugget.”
She smiled at me. “That is true. Kate is probably not sitting next to anyone as awesome as Tommy Jameson with his shoulder chip and scorpion tattoo.”
“You like the tattoo, huh?”
“I do. Why a scorpion?”
“Well, as you’ve probably noticed, I’m not exactly the butterfly type.”
She laughed.
A sweet fragrance drifted out from the kitchen. “Did I miss pancakes?”
“No, they’re making cake for tomorrow’s visitor’s day.” She sighed. “Get this, my mom is coming. Or at least I think she is.”
“And your enthusiasm shows.”
“Yep. Shit. How about you? Anyone coming from California to see you?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Nah. My mom asked if she should come. I told her not to bother. She hates flying, so I’m sure she was relieved.”
“Your dad?”
“He won’t come. And I’m glad about it.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek, an occasional chaste peck on her silky cheek was the one small luxury I allowed myself. “I’ve got to go have my chat with Kirkendall.”
I hated to leave Sugar. Could have spent all day just sitting there next to her, talking and laughing over cold cups of coffee.
The new ward assistant, Frank, was replacing a light bulb in the hallway. He looked down from his ladder but didn’t say anything. He watched me walk past as if he worried I might kick the ladder out from under him. Or at least that’s where my imagination took me, pushing that ladder right out from beneath his feet.