by Megan Rose
“Oh.”
“Sorry to disturb you or wake you up – “
“It’s okay. Mark, what’s wrong? Is Lacey back? Is she okay?” He didn’t want to answer that question because the answer was “No,” and he thought that might alarm Mayra.
“She’s asleep right now. I was just wondering…I think Lacey needs to go to the doctor, and I don’t know any of her doctor’s information or anything and I thought maybe…”
“Sure, but when did she get back? Where was she? Why does she need the doctor?”
“It’s actually a little confusing, and I’m sure Lacey would want me to wait so she can tell you herself. Could you just give me the information for a doctor? She’s not feeling well.”
“Absolutely. We go to the same lady. Here, let me give you the phone number.”
Twenty minutes later Mark had left a message at the doctor’s office asking for an appointment as soon as possible - preferably the next day.
Finally, after he had triple-checked the floors for pieces of glass and checked on Lacey about a thousand times, he lay down on her couch and pulled the bright yellow blanket that was draped over the side of the couch over him. Once he was settled he thought about going to check on Lacey again, but before he could get up, he was asleep.
✽✽✽
“So you punched…glass?” The doctor looked at Lacey and Mark over her clipboard. They nodded. “With your bare hands?” They nodded. Did she have to look so judgmental?
“Actually, she had about five-million rings on,” Mark interjected. He had come in with Lacey, because she was too nervous to go in on her own. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened and thought maybe Mark could help her out.
“Oh yeah that’s true.” Lacey looked terrible, like she hadn’t slept in weeks. She was pale and skinny, and she was in her pajamas from the night before. She had refused to change. Mark figured it was more important that she get to the doctor’s office than get dressed.
“Those were Claudia’s,” she said. “Oh,” she moaned, “I don’t even know what I did with them! I threw them in some drawer or box or something, and I remember thinking I have to clean these before I give them back because they were covered in blood – but not too much because part of the reason she likes the rings is because they’re old and a little dirty. And now I don’t even know where they are and she’s gonna hate me and - "
“We’ll find the rings. I took them off with you. They’re in your apartment somewhere. We’ll find them, okay?” Mark reached up from his chair and put his hand on Lacey’s. She stopped compulsively picking at the paper on the exam bed. “Don’t worry about Claudia right now. She’s fine.” She nodded.
“I’m not very comfortable prescribing anything. It sounds like she’s really in need of a psychiatrist.”
“I know, and I’ve called multiple places and they don’t have appointments soon enough. We just need you to do something until she can be seen.”
The doctor put down her clipboard and looked at Lacey. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll put you on a small dosage of Prozac – and I mean small – and you can see if that helps until your appointment.”
At the word “Prozac” Lacey froze and seemed to shrink away from the doctor, as if she were the cause of Lacey’s pain. Mark stood and offered his hand to the doctor. “Thank you very much.”
“You can pick up the script at the front desk,” she said. She shook Mark’s hand and then nodded to Lacey and left the room.
“It’s okay. This is good! This is going to help. What’s wrong?” Mark just wanted her to go back to normal, happy, bippy, blonde Lacey. He had seen her cry before, and there was always some comedy to the dramatics of it all, but this wasn’t funny. She had woken up that morning crying – started in her sleep and then it woke her up. Mark was willing to do anything if it meant she would be happy again, but no one was really offering any suggestions.
“Prozac? That’s for…depressed people.” She spat out the word “depressed” like it was mud.
“Well, I think you fall under that category,” Mark told her gently.
She looked at Mark and her face changed a little from horrified to disappointed. “It’s so true,” she said to herself as she shook her head. Mark, though concerned, let her finish whatever it was she was trying to say. “Those commercials…and the people look…and they’re so…and they just…I’m one of them.” She looked at Mark. “I’m one of them,” she said again, her eyes filling up with tears.
Please, he thought, don’t cry. But that wish had never come true for him before, why would it now? “It’s okay, Lacey. You’re just sick. You’re getting medicine and then you’re going to feel better. I had a cousin who went through something very similar and it will get better. It may take a few weeks, but you’ll get back to your old self. Meanwhile, you can take some sick time from work – “
“I like work!” she wailed. “My hair,” she said and everything seemed to stop – the crying, the world – it was like they weren’t in real life. Mark hoped that they weren’t. He hoped that he was crazy and was hallucinating all of this, and he was the one who needed medicine.
"My hair,” she cried louder and then the waterworks began again. “What did I do to my hair? Oh, I should just cut it all off! Black hair…do you know how hard it’ll be to go back to my original color? What kind of dye is this?” she looked down at Mark, frantically.
“Um…I’m not really…”
“Oh, I’m sure it was really good stuff. It’s been a week and it hasn’t faded even a little…”
“Speaking of…the week,” Mark started. “Are you…okay? What happened? Where were you?”
Lacey looked up and stared above his head. He was afraid to hear the answer. “I’m okay,” she said and Mark realized he’d been holding his breath. “I was…I just went to a lot of places and I met a lot of people and I really thought everything was great. People kept getting sick of me, though, and dumping me off on other people. It all seemed like so much fun. I don't know what went wrong.” She tried to sound nonchalant.
“Now that I look back on it, I'm pretty sure I humiliated myself multiple times. And made some really bad decisions. If I could pick any week of my life to forget, it would be that week. And that’s including the week that my hamster died. Which was just tragic, poor Pretzel,” she mumbled and looked around the room. “You don’t want to know what happened, anyway. You saw me Saturday night; you have a general idea what I was like."
Mark wanted to know how she had gotten home and why the person who brought her didn’t stay with her when she was upset enough to punch glass. (Mark had made the doctor look at her fists during their appointment, and she said the cuts would heal on their own.) But he wasn’t going to try and drag it out of her.
Really, she was probably right and he didn’t want to know. He was sure someone had taken advantage of her obliviousness and new sense for adventure. He knew if he ever saw those stupid kids again, he would have to be physically restrained so he didn’t kill them. Especially Kevin. Stupid Kevin.
“How’s Kevin?” It slipped out so suddenly, it startled him.
“Kevin?” She looked like she didn’t know who he was talking about. “Oh, Kevin. Yeah, I’m sure he’s fine. I haven’t seen him since Saturday. Haven’t seen any of them. They left me at that party. That’s saying something, when you’re so annoying that even drunk people can’t stand you.” She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a strangled hiccup. “I’m not sure what happened until the next afternoon.” She squinted, trying to recall the events of the past few days.
Mark felt sick. He thought maybe he should get something prescribed to him for the stress. Dealing with all of this was overwhelming. But if he was feeling horrible, he could only imagine how she was feeling.
“Let’s go,” he said. “We’ll get your prescription and we’ll go back to your apartment. We can watch a movie. And we can pick up some candy at the drug store too.”
“I’m not hun
gry,” she muttered as she slunk off of the exam table. “You can pick the movie,” she said over her shoulder and walked out into the hall.
The rest of the day Mark worked incredibly hard to make Lacey feel at least a little bit better. He had gotten her a week off from work. She loved cutting hair, but she could barely pull herself up off the couch, let alone go to work and cut hair and be pleasant. He had reassured Mayra that everything was alright and that what Lacey had was contagious, so no one should visit. Mark said he had already been exposed to it, so he could stay with her.
He popped as many comedies as he could find into her VCR, and she had quite an extensive collection. None of them made Lacey laugh, though. She stared at the screen, her eyes welled up with tears, and she clutched her yellow blanket to her chest through all of it.
He could barely get her to eat anything, so sometimes when she fell asleep he would make a run to the store and get ice cream or candy or anything that seemed especially exciting. Ben and Jerry’s seemed to be a popular choice, though Mark had been hoping she’d have more than two spoonfuls a serving.
He was sleeping in her apartment every night on the floor. He had wanted to tell her that this wasn't his apartment so he had to sleep on the floor this time, and then maybe she would laugh and joke around a little bit, but he didn’t want to risk upsetting her.
She fell asleep on the couch every night, and he didn’t want to bother her and accidentally wake her up, so he just left her there. She got up only to use the bathroom and smack the top of the TV when it wasn’t working. Meanwhile, Mark had basically moved in with her, and he didn’t think she even noticed. He only went back to his apartment when he needed to get something.
Although he was in her apartment nearly 24/7, he left her alone as much as possible. She didn’t seem to like him trying to cheer her up, and he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do. So, he figured he’d just stay to make sure she was okay.
She slept a lot, so Mark had some time to watch what he wanted on TV or look through the books in Lacey’s room and start reading something. (He had just started The Odyssey.) When she was awake, though, he didn’t move his eyes off of her, and when she went to the bathroom he stood right at the end of the hall. He spent most nights just lying on the floor, not able to sleep, bracing himself to do something if Lacey woke up crying, which happened sometimes.
Mark hadn’t been to his store in a week, but he wasn’t worried about that. His uncle had left him enough money that he could delay the store’s opening for another year if he had to. He wanted Lacey’s help opening anyway, and she wasn’t up to it right now.
It was her final day off from work, and Mark didn’t see how she could go back. She was lying across the couch with tears running down her cheeks, just staring miserably at the TV screen, where Jim Carey had draped an old man around his shoulders in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. “You have an appointment later with a psychiatrist,” he said. She sat up.
“They’re going to tell me that I’m crazy.”
“No, they’re not. You’re not crazy. If you were crazy you’d probably already be locked up somewhere by now.” Mark smiled and tried to make her laugh but she just sniffed.
“Wait – what day is it? You haven’t been staying here, have you? You should go home – you don’t have to look after me. All I’m doing is lying on the couch anyway. I’m fine. How long have you been here?”
“Just…a little while. Anyway, I’m taking you to your appointment so there’s no point in me going home.” Lacey sat up on the couch and kicked the crumpled blanket that had been tangled between her legs off her.
“You don’t need to take me, I can – “
“You’ll need to drive to get there,” he interjected. “I don’t mind, really. And maybe I can figure out what I’m supposed to do now.”
“You’re not supposed to do anything, Mark.” She stood up and dragged her blanket behind her, looking like Linus from the Peanuts Gang. She appeared just as vulnerable and innocent as the philosophical kid, with an undercurrent of worry that she carried in her eyes. “Really, I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.” She stuck out her chin and closed her eyes, in a feeble attempt to close the subject and make Mark leave.
“You’re an adult who just spent seven days lying on the couch and you didn’t even know that I’ve been here the whole time.”
“You have?” The worry now spread from her eyes to the rest of her face. “Well, you didn’t make yourself very known! Why are you here, anyway?”
“I told you, I was - “
“No, I mean why are you trying to help me? We’ve known each other for maybe a month, and you just spent I don’t even know how long in my apartment, checking on me. Why are you being so…I don’t know, supportive, I guess?” She looked genuinely confused, and Mark didn’t really understand what there was to be confused about.
"Because,” he said, “you’re my friend.” He shrugged. “You need someone to help you, and I figured you wouldn’t really want a lot of people to know about this. Since I was the only one who knew, it only made sense that I take care of you. And I was worried about you.”
He looked down at his feet and noticed for the first time that the carpet was peeling up from off of the ground. There was a multitude of stains splattered across the floor and he was suddenly aware that she lived in a dump. “I want you to be better.”
✽✽✽
Lacey tilted her head and looked at Mark. He wanted her to be better. He wanted to take care of her. These thoughts rolled around in her head and she had to remind herself that he wanted to do those things because he was just her friend. Well, that was good because she only wanted to be friends too. And who in their right mind would consider dating her right now anyway? She was a mess.
She walked over to Mark and gave him the biggest, squeeziest hug she could conjure up. Then she felt embarrassed because when she pulled away his face looked unhappy. Maybe he didn’t want to be the kind of friend you could hug. Lacey cleared her throat.
“Anyway, I guess I should get ready to go,” she mumbled and she turned around, twisting her feet in the afghan that had been trailing behind her. She got tangled up in the old gift from her grandmother and toppled over right between the coffee table and the couch. She didn’t know how she had fallen straight into the Lacey-sized space between her two pieces of furniture so perfectly, unscathed.
Her feet were still twisted up in the blanket and Mark came rushing over to her. He looked so concerned that it made her smile. Concerned Man. That was him. And when she smiled, he smiled – a concerned smile, mind you, but a smile. The combination of his smile and the worry lines wrinkling at the top of his forehead looked so bizarre, Lacey started to laugh.
Then Mark added a look of surprise to his face too, and she lost it. She was laughing so hard she couldn’t stop. Still laughing, she pulled herself up off the floor, untangling her feet. Clutching her side, she began wheezing and her face turned red. She physically could not make her smile go away. She felt a tear escape one of her eyes and tried to understand why that had been so funny.
Lacey calmed herself down and threw the lethal yellow afghan back onto the couch. Her hands went to her hips while she tried to figure out why she was laughing, but they were knocked down by a set of arms that wrapped around her. Maybe Mark was a hug friend after all. He squeezed her so tight her wheezing turned into choking and she pulled away.
“I don’t know what I did to make you laugh, but whatever it was,” Mark said seriously, “write it down so I know. And you’re not allowed to stop smiling. Ever.”
Lacey rolled her eyes. “Okay, well I should probably get ready to go.”
“Get ready?” Mark looked perplexed.
“Yeah, you know. Shower, dress, brush my teeth, like how normal people get ready to go all the time,” she said and gave him a look of “duh” that he must have found funny, because he started to laugh.
“Okay, right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He wa
s still smiling. “I’m ordering some food for lunch before we go. What should I get?”
“Chinese. I want dumplings. Lots of dumplings. And ask them for extra soy sauce. There aren’t any more packets left in my kitchen drawer, and I need some for when I want to make white rice. Well, Minute Rice, but whatever.”
“Okay, dumplings and soy sauce. Got it. Anything else?”
“No,” Lacey said with a mouth full of foam and a toothbrush in her hand, “I’ll have some of whatever you get too.”
✽✽✽
Mark called for Chinese food and waited while Lacey took a shower for the first time in a week. She got dressed to go out in an actual pair of jeans and a top that wasn’t her grimy Special Olympics Volunteer T-shirt. She put makeup on and did her hair and everything. Mark thought that the Prozac must be working, albeit a little suddenly, but still.
The doorbell rang and Mark answered the door. Colby, sans braces, was standing there looking mightily perturbed.
“Hey Co…hey,” Mark said. “How are you?”
“May I speak to Lacey please?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“Um…I don’t know if she – “
“It’s really important.” He glared at Mark without blinking. If ever there were a time that he looked like a serial killer…
“Okay…I guess I’ll get her for you…” Mark took a few steps back into the apartment and called for Lacey. She responded, “Coming!” with an almost musical-like quality to her voice. She skipped over to the front door and saw Connor.
✽✽✽
“Connor!” She put her arms out for a hug, but he had an armful of Chinese food. “I haven’t seen you for a while. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing okay.” He sniffed. “Actually, I was wondering, and I’m sure this isn’t true but just in case, did you go to Juice with that group of people from the diner?”
"Oh.” Lacey’s face fell flat. She felt ashamed, and looked up at him beseechingly, like a puppy that had made a mess. “Well, I actually did go with them, but it’s not like you think. They’re not my friends or anything,” she said quickly.