Anna trailed behind them. Her mother’s heels clicked against the floor as she headed down the hallway, trailing her husband by a couple of feet. A few moments later, the locks of the unit doors snapped open.
“Bye,” Anna said dryly. Her parents disappeared through the double doors, and then she was alone again.
The strain of what just happened had taken its toll. Weak and tired, Anna forced herself back to the common room and sank deep into the upholstered chair in the corner. She didn’t know how to feel. Mostly she was numb; it was her mind’s way of protecting her after especially brutal interactions with her parents.
She spotted Caleb across the room. The urgency to go talk to him—to be near him—was the only thing that could find its way through the numbness. She scooted her way to the edge of the chair, ready to pop up and go to him.
But he wasn’t moving.
He was staring dumbly at the window, perfectly still with one arm suspended in the air. As she sunk back into the chair, the loneliness settled right in next to her.
Chapter Five
Caleb could see the window a few feet away and the suggestion of his arm resting easily in space, but he wasn’t really there. He’d detached himself from his body for now. Every now and then a figure would zoom by, moving too quickly for him to see who it was. He felt something next to him, its weight sinking into the couch, and he was vaguely aware of its warmth.
“Caleb?”
The voice was very clear inside of him. He knew right away that it belonged. He answered yes with his mind, and then he was standing in what seemed like an empty room. Instead of walls, he was surrounded by a dazzling light that extended out into infinity. The light should have blinded him, but he was able to stare straight into it without having to squint. Somehow he could make out millions of variations of color within it, and it all made sense. The air around him was warm and comforting, and it felt like home.
“How’s it going?” Samuel’s figure materialized right in front of him. He wore the same white polo shirt, the same patchwork madras pants, the same clean white golfing shoes that were as much a part of him as his smirk. This was this longest he’d ever been away from heaven; he’d almost forgotten Samuel’s voice. It didn’t sound like the voices that assaulted him in the hospital. It was strange to think of it as somehow restful. He had missed it.
“Oh, great. Everything’s fantastic.”
“Oh, come on now. I thought you had it covered, that you were prepared.”
“It’s different than the first couple of times. Those were practice runs. The real thing is…it’s just different. Anyway, where are we? Can’t we meet in the commons?”
“Nope.” Samuel pulled a golf club out from behind his back. He moved into his stance—knees bent and legs spread slightly with the club resting at an angle in front of him—and swung hard. He heard a swish as it sliced through the air. “You can’t come back, really come back, until you’ve done what you’re supposed to do. I guess you’d call this limbo. Your own little slice of heaven.”
“Huh. Wish I could see the studio, though, just for a second. I miss my stuff.”
“No.” Samuel assumed his stance again. “It would make things harder. You wouldn’t ever want to come back down. That’s why you’re here.” This time he swung the club even harder, and Caleb felt the vibrations in the air around him. “Anyway, I see you’re making some progress.”
“I’m not sure I’d call it progress. One minute she thinks I’m an artistic genius, and the next she looks at me like I’m a lunatic,” Caleb said glumly.
“Like I said, it’s not going to be easy.”
“I’m trying, I really am. It’s hard. There are so many…bad feelings. Bad things that get in the way. Things get to me, make me angry. It distracts me.”
“You just need to focus, filter out all the other stuff.”
That was easy enough for Samuel to say. He wasn’t there, living it.
“But she thinks I’m crazy.”
“Of course she does, dumbass. You’re in a psych ward. Just think of it as an added challenge.” He laughed as his club sliced through the air again.
“I’m glad you think this is funny.” Caleb was truly angry. He had never associated that with Samuel before. “Go back to your golf game and leave me alone.”
“Nope, I’m on a break right now. Besides, I’ve missed tormenting you.”
“Don’t worry—the people here are getting the job done.”
“Seriously, Caleb.” The brightness of his voice had vanished. “I know that this is shitty. But just try to focus on your job. I think you made a breakthrough when her parents were here.”
“You saw that?”
“I’m on top of it. Would I ever let you down?”
“Hmm,” Caleb grumbled.
“Just be careful.”
“Careful of what?”
“Don’t forget that you’re here to do a job. Once you’re done, you’ll come home. Don’t make things more complicated than they have to be.”
“What are you talking about? How am I making things more complicated?”
“You’re so obvious, Caleb.” He laughed. “You’ve got yourself a little crush on her. Fine, but don’t get too wrapped up.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped, surprised that his temper was flaring. “Stick to your golf game.”
Suddenly Caleb was staring at the window in the hospital. His arm felt heavy, and he couldn’t bear to hold it up for another second; it fell woodenly by his side onto the couch.
He was cold.
And lonely.
He must have come out of it under the two-hour mark. If he hadn’t, he would have found an IV stuck in his hand.
His back felt stiff and he twisted his entire trunk to the left. When he rotated to the right, he found Anna sitting next to him.
“Are you okay?” She sat a foot away from him, her fingertips white from gripping the ends of her sleeves. Her head was level while her eyes looked up to meet his.
“Um, yeah,” he answered, trying to regain control of his body. He could only imagine how foul his breath must smell. He swallowed hard, hoping it might do something to improve the likely stench. “What about you? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I just thought…I saw your parents here before.”
“Yeah, you saw that, I know.”
He was still so stiff, and his body wanted him to leap up, do jumping jacks, run around the room, but he wouldn’t as long as she was next to him.
“Umm, what—what happens to you when you’re, you know, like that?”
He didn’t want to talk about himself; that wasn’t what he was here for. But it was a start, so he dug in. “It’s hard to put it into words. The official word for it is catatonia.”
“What does it feel like?” She was still so quiet, unsure. There was sympathy for him in her eyes, though. And those eyes—they were so blue and so pretty. He couldn’t stop staring into them. They managed to put him into a different kind of stupor.
“Well, uh…” He was the one struggling now. He needed to figure out how to describe it, and that in itself was hard enough without having to fight what those eyes were doing to him. He thought about how to answer, but it was like trying to tell a deaf person what a voice sounds like. “I know what’s happening around me for the most part. Like I could feel that there was someone sitting next to me.”
She broke eye contact with him and focused down on her hands, which were still gripping her sleeves.
He went on, trying to pick the right words. “At first I know what’s going on, but I’m not a part of it. Everything’s moving so fast all around me.” He was hesitant. “I know people who see me think I’m not moving, like I’m frozen, but I’m moving at my own speed. It doesn’t feel slow to me.”
“Are you lonely?”
“I’m lonely when I’m not like that.”
“But…wouldn’t it be the other way around?�
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He took a breath and decided to let her in a little more, see if he could get anywhere—with the mission, of course.
“I’m not alone when I’m like that. I leave, and there’s someone there with me.” Her expression didn’t change as he explained it. She didn’t do anything. Was he scaring her?
“What do you mean? Where do you go? Who’s with you?”
“I go to a room. I meet a guy named Samuel.”
“And…who’s that?”
“He’s kind of like a guide.”
“Like, what kind of guide?”
He was proud of himself for focusing on the work and not the dark blue specks in her eyes. She was coming along with him; maybe he could lead her a little further and toward herself.
“When you first get to heaven, they give you a guide to teach you how things work. Samuel was mine.” Despite her barrage of questions, it was clear that she was growing uncomfortable. It looked like she had moved away from him a little when he hadn’t noticed. Despite the sudden urge to slide across the couch to make them close again, he managed to hold himself back.
“Then how come you’re still talking to him? You’re not in heaven anymore.”
“Because…” He swallowed hard, trying to push his mounting craving for her down deep where he couldn’t feel it. “He’s still helping me, in a way. I’m not in heaven because I was sent here to do something.”
“Do what?”
“I don’t know if I should tell you.” It was true; he wasn’t just trying to keep her interested. Maybe this was enough for now. Revealing too much too soon might push her away.
“No, tell me. I want to know.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, tell me.”
“It has to do with you.”
“With me?” Her voice was a little hostile. “What do you mean? What does it have to do with me?”
“I was sent here to help you.”
She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Help you—” His mouth was so dry. He had to look away from her. As each second passed, he was falling deeper and deeper into something that he wasn’t supposed to be feeling.
“Help show you that it doesn’t have to be this way.” He blurted it out, before he did something he’d regret. “You don’t deserve—deserve the way you’re treated. You’re strong. You’re not alone.” He was starting to ramble, but he didn’t know exactly how to say it. “You’re worth something, worth a lot. If you could just get away from your parents, you’d see.”
She was silent. It seemed like forever. Her head fell forward and soon the fabric of her hoodie was dappled with dark spots. Moist trails ran down her cheeks. She was so quiet; he wouldn’t have guessed she was crying if he hadn’t seen her.
What the hell did he just do? He’d given too much away. He definitely didn’t want to make things worse for her. Seeing her like this, he hated himself for making her so miserable. And then—a sudden urge to grab her, pull her close and kiss her so hard that he couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t feel the pain anymore. She was so sweet, so good, and he didn’t want to have to wait for her to save herself. He wanted to save her now, all on his own.
“Anna, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said over and over, despising himself for handling this in exactly the wrong way. He was desperate to reach out for her hands but stopped himself.
“I—I just don’t…” She was trying to answer, but he could tell that she couldn’t straighten things out in her head.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she managed.
He didn’t know what to say. The only thing he could think was please don’t leave.
“Why do you have to put me in the middle of your problems? If you want to live like this, making things up, that’s your problem, but don’t make me feel—feel like crap and drag me down with you.” She brushed away the sticky hair that tears had pasted onto her cheek.
“That’s not what I’m trying to do—”
“I know you saw me with my parents before, but you don’t know anything about me.”
“I’m sorry. I saw what they were doing to you—”
“Just leave me alone. My life is none of your business.” She jumped up and ran toward the door. In her haste she accidently slammed her thigh into a chair and stumbled. Caleb leaped up, terrified that she was hurt, but before he could get near her, she shoved the chair behind her and ran out.
No one else had seen what had gone on between them. He wouldn’t have cared if anyone had noticed. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought, except her. He wasn’t thinking about his mission now.
She hates me. The words kept looping through his head.
Chapter Six
The voice startled Anna so badly that her whole body jerked, forcing a stifled whine out of the springs in the mattress.
“It’s time for your appointment,” one of the attendants said.
She’d been lying on her side in bed with her legs curled up toward her stomach, her cheek resting on her damp pillow. She’d been thinking for a while, interrupted only by a couple of crying fits. Her thoughts had been muddled, skipping from one thing to another. She had no control over where her mind wandered—first to her parents, then to Caleb, then to the hospital, and back and forth again and again. Although she had no desire to go to her therapy session, she was relieved that maybe she’d stop thinking for a little while during the walk over there.
She pushed herself up and off the bed, surprised by how heavy she felt. The attendant walked out of the room, and Anna followed as she tucked the hair that had escaped from her ponytail back behind her ears. She was led down the hallway to the double doors. She tried to peer through the thin rectangles of glass in each of them, but she couldn’t make out much. The attendant slid his card through the black box on the wall. The locks clicked and the doors swung open. A small gust of air rushed at her, but instead of feeling cold from it, she breathed it in and noticed it didn’t smell like the mingling of Clorox and food she had become so used to.
“This way,” she was told, and the attendant waited for her to come to his side before he walked through the doors. He stood close to her as they walked, most likely so that he could grab her arm if she tried to bolt. As if she had anywhere to go.
They walked over to the elevator and the attendant pushed the up button. It hadn’t even occurred to her that Dr. Blackwell’s office might be on a different floor. Instantly, she felt a rush of adrenaline surge through her. Her blood pulsated through her neck and arms and fingers with every beat of her heart as she waited for the elevator doors to open. Then her hands felt wet and cold, and she could have sworn she was two seconds away from passing out. Just then the doors slid open and she froze. The attendant started to walk in, but when Anna didn’t move, he stopped with one foot on the floor of the elevator and one on the floor near her, holding the doors open with his hand.
“Come on.” He was clearly annoyed.
“Can’t—can’t we take the stairs?”
He looked at her like she was planning some great escape. “No, we can’t. Get in.” He took her by the arm and pulled her inside.
She stumbled in, tripping over herself, but the attendant kept her on her feet with his firm grip on her forearm. He pushed the 3 button and the doors slid closed.
Each and every vein was flooded with horror.
She stood petrified, dazed.
The only part of her that wasn’t frozen was her heart with its violent banging against the bones in her chest. Even her eyes were frozen, fixated on the crack between the doors to see if they were still rising. Were they even moving? They might be stuck. Right now. Trapped, with no way to escape, nowhere to go, just six square feet making up the whole world.
I’ll make myself move. I’ll get over to those doors and pry them open with my bare hands if it happens.
But she couldn’t do anything except stare at the crack between the doors.
&nb
sp; She was going to lose her mind. It would happen any second.
If she couldn’t get out of this steel coffin, if she couldn’t breathe some fresh air—
Ding! The doors slid open. She tried to rush out, but the attendant gave her a tug backward.
“Just a minute,” he said. “Take it easy.” He led her out and onto the third floor, maintaining his grip. She felt dizzy for a moment, but the immediacy of the panic was starting to dissipate. All she could think about was that at the end of the hour she’d have to go back on the elevator. How could she get out of it? Scenarios raced through her mind. She kept walking forward even though the attendant had stopped in front of Dr. Blackwell’s office.
“Over here,” he yelled, and pulled her back toward the door. She stumbled but he caught her before she fell. He dragged her over to a brown couch, forced her to sit down, and left, closing the door behind him.
Dr. Blackwell wasn’t there yet, so she could finally try to compose herself in the quiet office. She rubbed her sweaty hands up and down her jeans.
A few minutes passed, and Dr. Blackwell still wasn’t there. She’d always hated just sitting in an exam room, waiting for who knows how long, but she didn’t mind here. She wished she could just sit and wait for hours. The squeaking of footsteps against the linoleum floor in the hallway penetrated the door. The attendant was pacing. She was relieved that he had decided to wait outside the room.
Dr. Blackwell kept his office much warmer than what she was used to in the ward. The cold had become such a part of her life. She had learned quickly to dress warmly, but the chill permeated the layers of T-shirts and sweatshirts no matter what. Here, in the warmth of this office, it even seemed like she wasn’t quite as depressed as she had been an hour ago. Being freezing all the time had added to her burden.
She slipped off her hoodie, draping it carefully over the arm of the couch. Sweat saturated the back of her T-shirt, and she reached her hand around to pull it loose from her skin. This wet remnant of her panic attack in the elevator was the only chilly thing in the room.
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