Lucid

by Gabrielle Castania

  I could only shake my head as I brought my arms up to reciprocate her gesture, unsure of why she was being so nice to me after our fight. I didn’t stop to question why she was there, instead soaking in the bliss of knowing that she was. I just wanted our fight to be over; I just wanted my best friend back. “I don’t know what’s going on right now. Everything has been such a blur.”

  “They warned us that you might dissociate a little, that you might not remember a lot of what happened.” She pulled away a bit, enough to see my face, but she kept her arms lovingly around me. “You’re in the in-patient care center in the psych ward at the hospital. How much do you remember of the three weeks you’ve been here?”

  “Three weeks?” I stammered incredulously, shocked at how much time I’d lost to the fog. I knew I’d needed some help and was willing to concede to going back to therapy, but I didn’t think my need for it was that severe. “Why have I been here for so long? What about graduating?”

  “Well, your diploma is waiting at your house. They still said your name when our class walked the stage, and the principal ‘sends his regards’ and ‘wishes you the best in all your future endeavors’.” I couldn’t help but to snicker at the spot-on, droning tone she’d given his quotes. She allowed me a moment to enjoy myself before continuing. “Ashley, do you really not remember what happened, what landed you in here?” When I shook my head again, she let go of me and motioned to the hospital bed pushed up against the far wall, back by the window. I took a seat with my legs crossed, facing her as she mimicked my position with a gentle smile. “I have a hell of a lot to tell you, then.”

  Eager to remember, I urged, “Don’t leave anything out.”

  She took one of my hands into hers, and I sat in silence as I listened to her, absorbing every word as she filled in my gaps.

  “You’re at Rhodes Memorial Hospital in their psychiatric care unit. You’ve been in the hospital for twenty-three days, but you were in psych for twenty-one; they moved you here once they got your physical health under control. Your dad brought you here when he realized that you’d taken a ton of sleeping pills and washed them down with booze, and the combination of it all almost killed you. They pumped your stomach in the ER to get everything out, and kept you in the ICU until you regained consciousness. Once they were sure you were in the clear physically, they moved you up to psych.

  “I’ve been in really close contact with your parents the whole time; your mom was so consumed by her worry that she forgot we were fighting and called me to tell me what was going on, and I’m glad she did. I wasn’t able to come see you, but she kept me updated on everything. You’ve been getting some really intense therapy, both individually and in a group setting. Of course they worked through the stuff with your parents and everything that happened at home, but the dreams about Danny were really off-putting to them; they’ve kept you here for so long only because they wanted to make sure it all went away. It’s been a few days since you last told them you saw him, and I guess ‘he told you that he had to go away again because you didn’t need him anymore since you’re getting better’. They wanted to clear you for any signs of schizophrenia, so they kept an eye on you with all of that, and they’ve been tweaking your medications as needed, and you’ve been saying he hasn’t been back in a few days. If you start dreaming lucidly about him again, they want you to tell someone immediately, because it means something isn’t working.

  “On the bright side, they cleared you of schizophrenia, but the part I don’t think you’re going to like is that they believe you’ve got what they call ‘psychotic depression’. I guess some people develop psychotic characteristics after dealing with depression for so long, and they think that’s what happened. I don’t remember if your mom said they classed your dreams as hallucinations, because it wasn’t really happening, or delusions, because of how steadfast you were about believing it was real. That was their breakthrough with you, and since then, things have been going a lot better in terms of your treatment. I know you might not like it because the verbiage is a little harsh, but at least now that you know what you’re dealing with, you can face it a little better.

  “Anyway, the doctors felt comfortable with your progress enough to let you talk to your parents in a supervised environment about a week into your stay. It wasn’t so much your mom that they were worried about, but they were concerned with how you’d interact with your dad after some of the stuff you told them. You said he could come visit only if he could prove he was still on the path to getting sober, and once he provided the doctors with paperwork from his own program, you let both your parents come up. You mom really struggled with seeing you in here – she blames herself for it, I think – and because of that, she hasn’t been here a lot. Your dad, however, has been here every single day, from the moment he gets out of work to when they ask him to head home for the night. You and him also had a few family therapy sessions, and he said you’re making really good progress. You know, he’s actually sort of cool when he’s not drunk; I forgot how fun Roger used to be. And everyone totally gets it if you keep your distance from him for a while, but you told the doctors you’d be willing to try making peace. You told him it was more for your sake than for his, and he understands that, I think.

  “Now that you’re leaving, though, they’re willing to let me come up and help you get yourself out of here. I was actually allowed to come see you a couple days ago, but when they told you who was here, you didn’t want to see me. I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but your mom told me how therapy went that day. You told your doctor that you were still beating yourself up for everything that happened, and you two worked through how to forgive yourself for making mistakes. You told them I could come up today, so I came to help you blow this Popsicle stand. They’re sending you home with a ton of medications and are recommending a therapist for you, since nobody wants this to happen again.”

  I sat there in silence for a very long moment, trying to digest all the things she told me, unclear on which part of it all shook me the most.

  Roger had kind of been the root of why I did what I did, the source for the depression that had apparently broken my mind entirely, but he was also the reason I didn’t die from my overdose. I made it clear to him the night he came back that I had every intention of being difficult, but he didn’t hesitate to do all he could to ensure my recovery. The little girl I used to be always had faith that Daddy would save her from anything, but I don’t think she’d ever quite imagined that it might be from herself. As for my mother, I tried hard not to feel a little slighted that she wasn’t there a lot, doing my best to understand that it may have been hard for her to see me where I was, especially after what I told her the night everything happened. After all, I did sort of indirectly blame her for me falling apart with all of my accusations before she stormed out of the room.

  More pressing, though, was how I was supposed to feel about my diagnosis. I’d figured the “depression” part out on my own, but I wasn’t crazy about them tossing the “psychotic” part around. Depression felt like something so run-of-the-mill, but psychosis was something else entirely. I was so certain that Danny was actually there with me that I had been completely willing to risk everything for it. I understood why they believed psychosis was playing a part in things, but I couldn’t get over the bitter taste of the word in my mouth. It felt like it elevated things, made them far more severe than I ever could have imagined it could be.

  Although, thinking on it, I tried my best to mourn the loss of Danny for a moment, but I found myself unable to do so. Maybe it was because there was nothing actually there for me to mourn. According to what Ellie said, he was a manifestation of some extremely faulty wiring in my mind, and honestly, if that was the case, it was probably for the best that he was gone. I would miss having someone to talk to, but it seemed Ellie was coming back around, so I really wouldn’t be on my own.

  I wanted clarification on everything, but one of my biggest questions was sitting righ
t in front of me, looking almost eager for me to say something. “Okay, but, Ellie, why are you here?” I asked, looking at her with a sheepish expression. “I was so horrid to you for so long because of all of this and what it was making me do. If you told me that you’ll never forgive me for it, I would be upset, but I would understand.”

  A soft smile broke through her pursed lips. “While it’s true that you were kind of being a bitch, it’s not like it was just because you felt like it. You had a lot of things going on, some of them apparently way out of your control, and besides, it’s not like I’m entirely blameless in your stint as Marmara’s queen bee. I mean, I was the one who insisted you go out with Joey, and that sort of started everything.”

  I shook my head, telling her, “Don’t try to take blame for this, and don’t give me the crutch of leaning on my diagnosis to justify things. Psychotic or not, there’s no excuse for how mean I was. You can’t just forgive me for that.”

  “Yes I can,” she grinned, comforting conviction in her voice. “Ashley, we both had our problems with what happened, but they’re in the past now. Those people are out of your life, and you’ve still got a life to live. I got hotheaded with everything and swore I’d never talk to you again, but when I got the call from your crying mother telling me that I might not get a choice in that regard, the gravity of it all set in for me. You’re my best friend in the entire world, and this was one big, silly fight that went on for way too long. We were both right and we were both wrong, so let’s just move past it all, no hard feelings, and just go back to being us.”

  Overcome by the emotion of everything that was going on, I lurched forward with tears in my eyes and collected her into the same, strangling hug she’d given me a few moments before. “I love you so much, Ellie,” I gushed, blinking away my tears.

  “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you, too,” she replied. “I’m glad you’re okay. I don’t think I could have stomached the rest of my life without you.”

  From the doorway came a familiar voice, one I never thought I’d hear again, saying gently, “I don’t think any of us could have.”

  I peeled myself off the girl I was finally allowed to call my friend again, locking eyes with Joey as he came into the room. He turned the one chair in the room so that it faced the bed and took a seat, folding his hands into his lap, looking at me intently for a moment with a smirk on his face. He looked totally exhausted, but still handsome, and I think part of the attraction was that I could guess what was eating away at him. As tragic as he looked, I couldn’t ignore how my heart soared when he walked into the room.

  “You’re the other one I was wondering about,” I broke the silence, shifting a bit so I could see both of them at the same time. “Do you hate me for freaking out on you? I kind of hate me for it. Nothing that happened with me was your fault, but I couldn’t accept the blame for it, so I put it off on someone. I’m sorry that was you.”

  He shrugged casually, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. “I don’t hate you at all, Ash. I hate me for not seeing what was happening. I knew those people had the potential to be toxic – I told you over and over how I felt about them – but you were brave enough to actually do something about it.”

  “I’m so proud of him,” Ellie squawked at me, putting her hand on my knee. “I wasn’t there, but I heard about what happened.”

  I turned back to Joey, almost nervous to ask, “What happened?”

  He relaxed into the chair with a smirk. “When Ellie called me in tears to tell me what you did, I was hysterical. I tried coming here, but they wouldn’t let me see you while you were in the ICU, and then they moved you up here, and it was more of the same. All I knew was that you almost died, and I don’t think they were the direct cause, but I know all the people I associated with surely didn’t help. So, I blamed them for what happened, and when they didn’t care what was going on when they found out, I lost it. I told everyone exactly what I thought about them, and I can’t say they were too pleased; they felt like I was choosing you over them, and I was. Because of that, some people aren’t too fond of me anymore.” He snickered to himself as I tried to process what he was saying. “Thank you for showing me what terrible people I hung out with. I don’t have many friends anymore, and I am surprisingly cool with that.”

  There was no point in denying the joy his words brought to me, and I shifted my position to prepare for what I was about to request of the two of them. “God, guys, can I just get a group hug here, please?” I asked, looking between Joey and Ellie. “I’m just so glad you guys are still here, because I’ve always liked you two the best, and I just, I love you both, so much.”

  Without hesitation, they surrounded me where I sat. Joey moved onto the bed with us, and Ellie scooted forward, and they both ambushed me from either side, surrounding me entirely with love and good vibes.

  After Ellie pulled away, Joey lingered for a moment, resting his head on my shoulder for an extra second before sitting back upright. “Let’s finish grabbing your stuff,” he told me. “The sooner we do, the sooner Roger can take you home.”

  I decided not to probe for details on his relationship with Roger, why he didn’t seethe at the mention of him like he used to, and tried to find something else to focus on. “Are the flowers in the cup from you? And why the hell are they in a cup?”

  “Well, they’re in a cup so you can’t hurt yourself,” Joey answered me. Although they would definitely look better in an actual vase, I supposed I could see the benefits of subbing out glass for Styrofoam in a psychiatric care unit. “They don’t joke around on the safety here, dude,” he continued, pulling anxiously at the neck of his black v-neck shirt. “They even made me take off my Cornicello necklace so you didn’t take it from me and strangle yourself or something. There are not many people I would take that off for, Ash; you know I feel naked without it.”

  “But,” Ellie cut him off before he could rant more about his necklace, “the flowers are actually from Mr. Protoccelli. There was a card, but they took that away, too. You know, wouldn’t want you to experience death by paper cut or something. But they kept it at the desk, and you can have it on the way out. Basically, he said he wishes you a smooth recovery, and that your ‘color-savvy art brain’ would pick up what he meant by sending these specific flowers.”

  Immediately, I smiled. Mr. P was a strong believer in the symbolic meaning of color choice, and had given me yellow and orange flowers with plenty of green leafy bits. Yellow was the color of happiness and optimism, orange stood as a symbol for vitality and good health, and green was the universal symbol for growth and rebirth. I wasn’t sure how much he knew of what happened, but I dedicated myself to finding him somehow so I could thank him for the gift and well-wishes, since I never did get his contact info ahead of going to school to follow in his footsteps.

  “Rumor has it that, when he found out that bullying was one of the reasons you’re in the hospital, he went berserk on your Art class,” Joey chuckled. “I heard through the grape vine that Ben Oaks skipped for the last week because of whatever he said.”

  I laughed aloud at the image of Ben and his terrible troupe cowering under the intensity of Protoccelli’s protective rage, since I had a feeling I knew where most of it was directed. “Okay, I try not to swear all that often, so please appreciate the genuine sincerity and meaning behind what I am about to say. Seriously, fuck Ben Oaks.”

  “Whoa, language, ma’am,” Roger’s voice came in from the doorway, where he stood with a smile looking at the three of us. Ellie turned to me with a concerned look in her eye, aware that I had little memory of him being there while I was in the hospital, most familiar with the way he was before rehab. She mentioned in her recount of my time there, though, that he’d been there constantly after being the one to bring me there in the first place, adamant about saving my life when I accidentally tried to take it. Because of this, I smiled at him softly, and his face lit up at the sight. “Ready to head home?”

  We
tossed the rest of my belongings into my duffel bag, and the four of us walked together out of the hospital and into the sunshine.

  Ellie clung tightly to me as I moved to open the door of Roger’s car, nuzzling in as close as she could be. “I’m so glad to have you back, Ashley,” she confessed. “Joey and I already talked to Yosuke and Sam, and they’re really excited to see you, too. Take tonight to get used to being a free woman again, and call me in the morning.”

  As I pulled away from her after a final squeeze, Joey smiled warmly at me, unsure of how exactly to proceed. He settled for telling me, “The four of us already made plans to have a celebration once you got out. We started small and eventually made our way up to a sightseeing trip around the world, but we figured maybe ice cream sundaes, laser tag, and a movie night in my basement would be a solid place to start until we can afford to do such a thing.”

  Overwhelmed that he was there for me, that he still cared about me after everything that had happened, I hugged him tightly to me for a silent moment, simply enjoying the fact that he was there to hug. I knew when Roger shut the trunk that it was time to go, but I found myself entirely unwilling to detach myself from Joey, that familiar safety and warmth cloaking me like nothing had happened between the two of us. Despite everything, I still felt at home in his embrace, and I didn’t want it to stop.

  Knowing that it had to, I peeled away, but grabbed his hand as he went to get into his car to stop him in his tracks, asking, “Hey, are you busy this afternoon?”

  “Nope,” he replied with a grin, “I took the day off to make sure you got home okay; I didn’t know how long it was going to take. Why, what’s up?”

  I found myself almost nervous, for the first time since we met. “Is there any way you could come by my house? I feel like you and I sort of have a lot to talk about, and I was thinking we could go someplace and try to figure things out.”