And the concepts started making sense; they’re not so abstract. I’m finally having a breakthrough, like I might just get through bonehead algebra. I couldn’t help but get a little distracted, though, by how close he was and by how good he smelled. I just sat there and breathed him in, and I thought about him kissing me and wondered what it would feel like, while at the same time thinking it was probably a bad idea.
But still, there’s something about him I just can’t shake.
I’ve been visiting Becca pretty much every day, which means I get to see Bobby every day. After school I get a ride in the disgusting Roman-mobile.
It has become so routine. When Becca sees me, she gives me a little nod, “Hey, Stace.” When Bobby sees me, he smiles his big smile and gives me a little hug, which makes me a little buzzy on the inside.
Becca has been doing fantastically well. She seems like she did before the strangeness and drama and cutting and syrup and partial public nudity. Her doctors are happy, the counselors are happy, and the idea is that she’ll most likely be ready to come home by the end of the year. Mom is hoping to have her home for Christmas.
I hoped the same for Bobby, that he’d be able to go home in time for Christmas too, until I caught a glimpse of him I hadn’t seen before.
“Damn. I can’t believe I missed that one. Shit.”
We were in the middle of a game of pool, and he slammed his cue down on the table and stalked off, leaving me standing there.
Each day, we’ve been getting to know each other a little bit more, having fun hanging out with Becca and Roman, but I’ve been waiting for a sign, something to show that he’s different. I kept playing by myself, getting three balls into the pockets, until he came back, apologizing.
“Stacy. I’m sorry.”
There was something different about his eyes—they were dull—and his skin was pale.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m having an off day is all.”
He ran a hand through his hair and picked up his cue. I watched him line up his shot, which he missed again, cursing under his breath.
I wondered what it would be like to date him in the real world, and the thought scared me a little. The group home was safe and protected; outside was a different story.
“It’s okay. We don’t need to play today. I’ve gotta go anyway.”
“C’mere.” He gave me a quick, awkward hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
I looked in his eyes for some kind of clue, but they told me nothing except that he wasn’t himself, or at least the self that I knew.
“Sure. See ya.”
I watched him go down the hall and waited for Roman to give me a ride home. Things were starting to feel a little too real.
December 3 –
Bobby And Me
And Third Thoughts
Last night, when Mom came into my bedroom looking serious, I tensed up.
“Stacy, can we talk a minute?” She sat down on the edge of my bed. “Listen, Becca told me about you and Bobby—”
And I cut her off. “We’re just friends, Mom.”
“—and I really think you need to be careful, sweetie. You could get hurt getting involved with someone like him. And those tattoos…”
Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head a little like she didn’t know what else to say.
“Weren’t you and Dad always teaching us to look beyond someone’s outer appearance?”
“Stacy, you know what I mean. And it’s more than that, it’s not just his appearance. He’s not well. He’s not like the boys you know at school. He’s not mentally healthy.”
The boys I know at school. Like Anthony? I’m so glad he’s not like that.
“Mom, he’s not my boyfriend, okay? Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”
But I knew that what I said, although maybe technically correct, wasn’t the whole truth. And when I lay there in bed and looked up at the press-on stars glowing in the dark, I thought again about him and what it would be like if he were out of the group home and we could just be together, and that kind of scared me.
December 6 -
A Dog Named Jimi Hendrix
When Roman took me to see Becca after work, Bobby gave me his usual greeting, “Hey, beautiful. You came back for me.”
And I teased him, “Actually, I’m just here to see my sister.”
He laughed and gave my shoulder a little squeeze. Roman and Becca had already gone off together; the two of them were in their own little Becca-Roman world.
We sat at the little table by the window. The windows in the visiting area all have wooden shutters on them, and they get opened during the day so you can look out, but there’s a mesh covering on the outside of the window, so when you look out, you’re looking through a grid. (Probably so no one goes nuts and tries to throw a chair through one or jump out or something.)
The view through the grid was pretty—some green plants and a few trees in the little strip of courtyard between the two buildings. It was peaceful and calm. Quiet. We sat looking out, and I ended up blurting out the question I’d been wanting to ask for so long, “So, Bobby, why are you here?”
He gave me this surprised look but then weakly smiled.
“Well—” he paused, taking a deep breath “—I don’t get along with my dad. Not for a long time anyway. I don’t even think he loves me—don’t think he ever has.” He paused again, continued, “Okay, maybe that’s not true. He does, but we don’t get along. I mean, it wasn’t always bad, but I started having problems. I couldn’t control my anger. Everything just seemed wrong. Nothing made sense anymore. It was total chaos in my head, so they started taking me to see doctors, counselors. It seems like I was talking to a different person every week. And we were fighting a lot—big time. The first time I ran away, I was fifteen.”
“Fifteen?” Jeez. “Where did you go?”
“I stayed at my buddy Mike’s house. My parents came and got me after a couple days. They’d always find me and bring me home, but I just started having trouble, you know? I’d get all crazy and want to break things. Or I’d get depressed and not want to do anything at all. I had a lot of anger inside of me. One time, I was just so fed up with everything, I threw a brick through the window of a 7-Eleven store, got arrested. It kinda went downhill from there.”
Bobby gave me a little embarrassed half-smile.
I just sat there not saying anything. What could I say? He looked kind of sad, and I was feeling mad at myself for being so nosy and pushy.
Then he reached into his wallet and said, “Here. I’ve got something to show you,” and pulled out a picture of a black and white border collie with a big smile on his face and a red bandanna around his neck. “This is Jimi, my dog.”
“You have a dog named Jimi?”
“Yeah, for—well, you know.” Then he laughed his great, big laugh, happy again.
“You named your dog Jimi Hendrix. That’s awesome.”
Yep, my dad would definitely adopt this boy. I wonder what he’d think about him dating one of his daughters though?
Bobby told me all about Jimi, what a great dog he is, and how he’s completely insanely intense—about how he runs and runs and never gets tired.
“We go for these long walks at Griffith Park and hike the trails, and he never wears out.” He gave me this kind of shy look. “You’ll have to go with us sometime.”
“Yeah, I’d love that, but there’s no way I can keep up with him. I’m not a hiking girl.”
And I’m really not. I’d probably poop out after the first mile.
Bobby frowned, like he was lost for a few seconds, drifting away from me.
“What’s the matter?”
“I just miss him, you know? And I know he’s probably not getting out like he needs to. If he can’t run, he just kind of goes crazy. He’s intense, you know? Kinda like me.”
He looked so sad. I just wanted to hug him, just put my arms around him and protect him for a while. We were quiet a min
ute, then, in spite of myself, I pressed him.
“Bobby, when are you getting out of here?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just got some things I need to work on, things I need to work out.”
He looked over at me and put his hand on the side of my face.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?”
His hand was so soft and gentle. And he leaned over and kissed me on the lips, and it was so tender and sweet and lasted just about five seconds. I melted into the floor, right into a big, messy heap. I was putty in his hands, and my heart skipped a few beats.
“Bet you never thought you’d have a boyfriend in the nuthouse, did you?” And he smiled at me.
He had me at “boyfriend.”
We talked for a while about his family, and how he ended up being diagnosed bipolar, and how he started to get things under control when he came to Brookside. He told me about how his dad—a big-shot businessman—wanted Bobby to be like him, and how that’s never going to happen. I mean, he looks like a roadie for DevilDriver.
The more Bobby and his dad would fight, the more tattoos and piercings he’d get.
I tried to cheer him up by telling him that of course his dad loves him, that he just wants the best for him like all parents do, and he looked at me. “He’s not like your dad, Stacy. I would’ve rather had your dad than mine any day of the week.”
“But you have your dad, Bobby.”
“Like I said, I’d rather have your dad any day. You’re really lucky, Stacy. My family isn’t like yours.”
That got me. I’m the lucky one? We sat for a moment, and I reached over and took his hand, and we just sat like that, holding hands, for a while.
December 10 -
My Secret Boyfriend
For days, a movie of our kiss has run over and over in my brain. But since Sylvia’s been busy at Blue Hawaii, Roman’s gone there every day after school so I haven’t had a ride to Brookside. And I actually have homework to catch up on since I’ve been letting things slide a little. But in my head, I’ve been making plans for us—places for us to go and things for us to do when he gets out of Brookside, when he’s ready to get on with his life.
In my head, things work out for us, even though he’s older. Even though I have no idea where he’ll live or exactly what he’ll do. The details of our future are sketchy, but our kiss is part of every cell of my body. I can see his face leaning into mine, and he is beautiful.
Bobby, my secret boyfriend.
December 11 –
When Things Fall Apart
The second I saw Becca’s face, I knew something wasn’t right. Something happened. Something terrible. She was pale and serious. My body was tense all over. I saw Roman’s face, and I knew it wasn’t just me.
“Becca, where’s Bobby?”
“He’s okay. He’ll be okay.”
“He’ll be okay? What do you mean? What happened? What’s going on?”
My alarm bells were going off, adrenaline pumping, senses in overdrive.
“Okay. First, remember. He’s okay,” then she blurted out the rest, “He tried to kill himself last night.”
Oh God. I felt sick, like I needed to throw up. Oh my God. Hot all over. Nauseous.
“How?” I asked, desperate for information.
Becca looked me directly in the eyes like she was really trying to focus. “Dante found him. His wrists were bleeding, but the cuts weren’t too deep—thank God—so he didn’t really hurt himself.”
“How did he—”
“Does it matter?”
“Becca!”
She sighed. “I don’t know. He found something sharp. Maybe scissors. Apparently, it isn’t an easy thing—killing yourself that way,” she said softly, like she was trying to handle me carefully.
“Where is he now?”
“They took him to County. He’s on a seventy-two-hour hold. They’re observing him to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself again.”
There was a knot in my throat, and it was hard to swallow, but I got the words out, “Why, Becca? Why did he do it?”
“His parents came to see him yesterday, and they ended up getting in this big blowout fight—in front of everybody. Bobby was yelling at his dad, his dad was yelling at him—kept calling him ‘Robert.’ ‘Robert’ this and ‘Robert’ that. Then they left. They were all upset. I heard his dad say something to him like, ‘You can’t stay here forever, you know. You need to get on with your life, son. You’ve got to suck it up and live in the real world.’ It really set him off.”
“God, Becca,” I said, starting to sob.
“And I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t let me. He literally pushed me away when I tried to reach out to him. I’ve never seen him like that, so upset.”
Roman hugged Becca, and she just kind of folded into his arms.
“When will he be back?”
“He won’t,” she said quietly. “Dante told me he’d go somewhere after his hold, but it won’t be back here. I’m so sorry, Stacy.”
And she really did seem sorry. Her eyes were wet, like she was on the verge of tears. And she didn’t say “I told you so,” even though she had told me so.
“I need to go.”
My heart was broken. Shattered in a million pieces. The knot in my throat was so big, I couldn’t swallow. The tears came, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Outside, I sat on one of the little benches in front of Brookside, and the tears streamed down my face. Of course, I didn’t have any tissues on me, so I had to keep wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket. My sleeve was getting soaked. Thoughts raced through my head: How could he do this to me? How could he do that?
What about me?
What about me, Bobby?
I wondered if I’d ever see him again, and I felt shattered inside. It was as if the whole world had gone crazy, not just my sister. It was like the feeling you get each time you learn something new about the world, something terrible or horrible that you couldn’t have dreamed of on your own. It leaves you raw and numb inside.
I sat there on the bench feeling cold and miserable. Dazed.
How did I get here?
December 12 -
So Tell Me:
When Was It Again
That My Life Didn’t Suck?
At school, I didn’t want to talk to anybody. No one. And when Chad saw me in English and asked if I was okay, I mumbled, “Having a bad day,” and barely looked at him. Instead of meeting the girls for lunch, I hid in the library—something I’ve never done before, but I just couldn’t face Rose and Bethany and their happy faces and their chatter. I just didn’t feel like explaining to anybody why I looked like I’d crawled into this bottomless pit of despair.
There wasn’t one single person at school who knew what I was going through, who could possibly relate. Really, how many girls out there can say they’re in love with a guy in a psych ward who’s on a seventy-two hour-hold because he tried to kill himself? I’m pretty sure I’m the only one in school who has this problem. The only other person in the world who understands is Becca, my schizophrenic sister, which sounds like a joke, but it isn’t.
I told Roman no when he offered me a ride to go see Becca.
“There’s no way I can go there,” I said. It was too painful. Too raw. Too much. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“C’mon, get in. I’ll give you a ride home.”
The look on his face was too sympathetic to just blow him off. His big brother side had kicked in. He drove me home, and we didn’t say anything. I looked out the car window and everything was gray—sky, trees, grass.
I mumbled “bye” as Roman dropped me off, and I went inside, nudging Charles away with my foot as he ran over to meet me. Instantly, I felt bad and picked him up. “Who’s a good kitty? Who’s a sweet baby?” I buried my face in his fur.
December 12, Later –
The Truth Comes Out
I caught Mom after dinner as she was about to light up. I stepped out
side to join her.
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