The Evolution of Ivy: Antidote (The Evolution of Ivy, Volume 2)

by Lauren Campbell

Lucy. I wonder what she’s doing.

  “What do you remember? Can you tell me about it?”

  A tear slides down my cheek, rolling off my jaw and down my neck. “Their faces.”

  “Whose faces?” He gets up from his chair. Comes around the desk and leans against it, crossing his legs.

  “M—my … my...”

  “Your what?”

  My body convulses mildly as I close my eyes, their features coming into view. “My p—parents.”

  “Really? When did this happen? Tell me about them. This is a big step.” Harsh sunlight streams through the window, shining into my eyes, so he steps to it. Closes the blinds.

  “I dreamt of them. Last night. I know it was them.”

  “Tell me about the dream. What were you doing? Where were you? Tell me everything.”

  “We were … we were at the zoo.”

  “Oh, that sounds pleasant. Tell me more … if you’re comfortable.”

  “We held hands, walked around, looked at the animals—normal stuff you’d do at the zoo.”

  “Was that all? Any details you remember, anything at all?”

  “My mother—she looked just like the woman in the photo you showed me. A tiny woman with brown hair. It was cut to her shoulders. Her smile was kind, and she talked to me like she loved me. And the man … he was the same as the photo, too. He was tall, really thin. So nice to me. He called me Princess.”

  “What else?”

  My eyes lift to his, my body shaking harder. “I held something in my hands.”

  “What was it?”

  “A drawing—of pandas.”

  “Like the photo...” he says.

  “Yes.”

  “Who drew it?”

  “The girl,” I say, my voice cracking with the words. “Me.”

  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.”

  Dread beats in my chest as I stare at her, her eyes glassy and red, purple streaks underneath. Her blonde hair has turned brassy since she has been in here, her skin dry and free of makeup. She has put on a few pounds—nothing to bat an eye at, maybe five, but on her thin frame it is noticeable. She is breathtaking, exquisitely broken—a shell of the person I was falling in love with.

  As I listen to her recount our childhood together, I realize I came here with warped expectations. I thought being here would be helpful—for the both of us. That it would give me some closure to the situation and help ignite her memory. But it seems to be having the opposite effect. She is trembling, her lips quivering as she moves through our fifth-grade year together, the memories not leaving her lips with a smile but with a muted sadness. For the first time, I feel like I understand what it’s like to lose someone. I only thought I knew what that feeling was, but never has my heart felt so constricted, so dry of the blood it needs to forge on.

  Not only did I lose Ivy, but I lost Emily, too.

  “And after you left for France, I just … fell apart. Became an easy target. I remember it all. The lunches in the bathroom, the snickering behind my back, random pushes in the halls.”

  “I am so sorry you had to deal with that. I had no idea it was that bad. I understand why you blamed me now. I didn’t before, but I get it. I protected you before, and I wasn’t there.”

  Her eyes flick to mine. “Blamed you?”

  “Yeah, for what happened—the accident. Your … your injury was the catalyst for most of the bullying.”

  “I—I never blamed you.”

  My eyes narrow, sweat rolling down my sides. “What do you mean? You told everybody. Do you not remember?”

  She shakes her head, her eyes moving frantically. “No, I—I remember everything now from before my parents died—even bad stuff. I would remember blaming you, but I don’t. Who—who told you that?”

  “Literally everyone, even Eliza. I wanted to talk to you, but they said you blamed me—that you wanted me to stay away from you.”

  Her face twists in agony. “No. No, that isn’t true. I never said that. I wanted nothing more than to pick up where we left off. I waited for you, I—you were all I thought about. Bad memory or not, I know I wouldn’t have told Eliza anything. I hated her. And she butchered me on purpose, Brooks. I don’t remember everything. I still don’t remember what happened after our argument at my house, and my doctor says I may never get those few hours back. But I do remember everything from before my parents died, and some of what happened after their deaths, too. I vividly remember finding boxes in Eliza’s closet last year. There were journals in them. She admitted it.” She pauses as I consider her words. “Anyway, I wanted you more than anything. I never blamed—”

  “How’s it going?” Jared asks, our heads moving toward him—a smile on his face and a coffee in his hands.

  I stand up, and wipe my damp palms on my jeans. I turn to Ivy, her eyes full of sorrow, and I know this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come here. We shouldn’t be doing this. This is too much to take in, and she is getting worked up.

  I look at Jared, and smile thinly as I step toward him, my fingers reaching up to clasp the back of my neck. “I, uh … I think I upset her,” I whisper. “This was a bad idea. I’m gonna head home.”

  His eyes fall on her, followed by a curt nod. “Okay. Yeah, man. Whatever you think is best.”

  I spin back to Ivy, throwing a thumb over my shoulder. “I have a meeting to get to,” I lie. “But it was nice seeing you. I’m glad we got to talk. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

  Rivers of tears flow from her eyes. I start to reach out for her shoulder, but I stop myself, giving a nod to Jared before I head for the exit. When I step into the sunshine, I plunge my hands in my pockets and take a deep breath.

  I feel as if she is two people—Ivy and Emily. I can’t separate them as hard as I try, and sitting alongside her, listening to the woman I thought was someone else tell me about the old lives we lived—who, at the same time, is aware of our recent time together—is too much. I hope I helped her in some way today, and if what she says about Eliza is true, I hope the bitch gets what is coming to her. But … in any case, this is too much for me, and today is the last time I’ll ever see Ivy … Emily.

  Them.

  Halloween

  “You ready?”

  My eyes move from the rain outside to Nurse Lisa, and then to Joseph. “I’m ready.” I smile at them, but I worry about Joseph—if he’ll make a new friend, if he’ll ever get out of here. Joseph reaches for my hand, and we squeeze each other. “I’ll come visit.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Nurse Lisa wheels me down the unusually colorful hall—orange and black streamers strewn about, a carved pumpkin resting on a ledge. I glance around, memorizing what has been my home for four months. It’s odd to contemplate missing a place you were forced into, but I feel pangs of sadness as I look around, and it’s ironic that I’m being released on what was Emily’s birthday. It’ll be better to be out, though. And I’ll be staying with Jared for a while, until I’ve adjusted to being on the outside again.

  “There really is no need for this,” I say, craning my neck around to look up at Nurse Lisa. “I can walk just fine.”

  She shrugs. “It’s our policy.”

  “Hey, Ivy!” Joseph calls from behind.

  Nurse Lisa stops pushing me, and he skips over to us. I stare at him expectantly, hesitation in his eyes.

  “I just wanted you to know … today I want to hurt myself because you’re leaving, but I didn’t yesterday … or the day before that. You’ve been a blessing to me—your friendship.”

  I smile at him, my hand reaching out for his. I bring it to my cheek, and he swallows hard as I let go.

  As we approach the doors, Nurse Lisa pauses as Jared pulls his car up. Her hands squeeze my shoulders. “Gonna get a little wet, sweetie.”

  “I’m ready.”

  Quickly, she pushes me across the wet sidewalk, halting the wheelchair next to the back door. Jared hops out. Comes around with a big smile on his face, and kisses me on the cheek. I stand, Nurse Lisa enveloping me in a hug when I do.

  “I’m gonna miss you, girlie. Come back and visit.”

  “I will.” I smile at her, and she turns away with tears in her eyes, beginning her trek back to the hospital.

  Jared opens the car door. “How does it feel to be out?”

  The rain pelts my face. I look up at the sky, hold my arms out. Close my eyes, and let the water fall on me, before dropping my arms, and wiping the water from my eyes. I step into car, and he shuts the door. I get a shock as I see the peach fur whip around from the front seat. Lucy pants wildly, wiggling her butt and going crazy. I reach to her, ruffling her hair and taking her face into my hands to kiss it.

  “Hey, Lucy girl … hey … hey … I missed you so much.” I kiss her nose.

  Jared climbs in his seat and throws the car in drive. “You up for handing out candy tonight?”

  I smile as I buckle my seatbelt. My mother always said I could be whatever I wanted to be on Halloween. I clutch my parents’ memories in my heart—memories of pancakes, Spaghetti Sundays, my dad twirling me in the yard, the easy smiles they freely gave. I remember the clean yet sweat-laced smell of my dad’s uniform after a hard day’s work, the damp tendrils of my mother’s hair after a night at the buffet. I feel their arms aro
und me after bad days, the light in their eyes when they could buy me something new, take me out for ice cream.

  I remember that I was loved—that despite having nothing, I had everything. But when I lost them, that didn’t mean their love stopped. It is here. It is in my heart, in my skin, in the movies that play behind my eyes, in the dreams I get to live.

  And for the first time, I am happy to be her.

  Today, I choose to be Ivy.

  Today, I want to be me.

  Jared pulls the milk from the bag on the counter, and then walks to the fridge. He pauses, leaving the door open as he peers into it.

  “What?” I ask.

  “We really should have gotten you some more stuff. Not much in here.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I say as he closes the door. “I do have a car. And a credit card.” I smile at him.

  “You’re right. You’re not a little kid, I know, I know.”

  Over the week that I stayed with Jared after my release, our relationship evolved into something closer to brother and sister. We had our petty fight over him leaving the toilet seat up after I fucking fell in it, our squabble after I drank the last of the coffee. But we’re two peas in a pod. He’s my ride-or-die, my friend for life. I still don’t have one hundred percent of my memories. I’m still missing that chunk of time from the day I passed out at my house, but I remember almost everything else. The lying, the scheming, the hurt. Though he surely already knew, I sat Jared down one day and confessed that I used him, that he took my virginity. He grimaced at first, shaking off the memory, and then promptly told me he forgave me.

  If only Brooks could. We haven’t spoken since he came to see me on my birthday three months ago. He talks to Jared occasionally for updates, but that’s the extent of it. I feel like he hates me, and with good reason. I would hate me, too.

  Barks erupt from Lucy as she bolts into the living room. I poke my head around as she begins scratching at the wood trim next to the front door, tail swaying rapidly.

  “I’ll get it,” Jared says.

  When he opens it, I gasp. There he stands in a Georgia Tech jacket, his eyes glancing to me, lips lifting into a slight smile.