Bird Girl

by Megan Rose

  “Mood swings are a part of it,” he said. “The problems you’re having right now are due to depression and mania. You know what depression is, and mania is what you had the night you went out to that party. Risky behavior, rapid speech, promiscuity, decreased need for sleep, anger or irritability…all symptoms of mania.” He smiled with his teeth this time and Mark glared at him. Did he enjoy telling people they were mentally ill?

  “So!” he said so loudly and so suddenly Lacey and Mark both jumped out of their chairs. “Here’s the script,” he said and handed them a little blue paper covered in chicken scratch, “and there’s very specific instructions on how to take that. You can’t just take it when you’re not feeling well.” Lacey nodded and stared down at the script. She looked like she was in shock. Mark needed to get her out of there. She looked like she might actually go crazy if he gave her any more information.

  ✽✽✽

  Two hours and three ice cream sandwiches later, Lacey was back in her apartment, lying on the floor. “Get up,” Mark said and kicked her gently with his foot. She groaned. “Get uuuuup!” Groan. “I’m getting you up,” he said. “You have to get up at some point. You have absolutely no candy here, and that’s a problem you have to solve eventually.”

  “Or you could solve it,” she said, her voice muffled into the carpet.

  “Come on,” Mark sat pretzel-style next to her. “What’s the matter?”

  Lacey’s head popped up like a Meer cat out of sand. “What do you mean ‘What’s the matter?’ What do you think is the matter? I can’t cope with this.” She rubbed her face back down into the carpet.

  “It’s not that bad,” Mark said. “You haven’t even taken any of the stuff he’s given you. And I know you think now you’re going to be labeled as The Girl with Bipolar Disorder, but you’re not cause guess what? We don’t have to tell anyone.” Lacey rolled her head to the side and looked up at him. What was he talking about?

  “Of course we have to tell people! How will I explain myself when I do something stupid or start crying into someone’s hair or go to the pharmacy and there’s someone I know there? People are going to know and they’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “I really don’t think they are,” Mark said. “And if they do then they’re idiots and you shouldn’t care what they think anyway.” Lacey snorted.

  “You sound like my mom.” Her eyes got big and she actually sat up on her knees. “My mom. I have to tell her. She’s not going to have a clue what I’m talking about.” She buried her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes.

  “Why won’t she have a clue? You’ll tell her about it and then she’ll know. Why don’t you call her right now?” Mark got up and grabbed the phone. He came back over to her and sat down, nudging the phone towards her.

  “No, I mean…my parents are old.” Mark laughed. “No! I mean, they’re really old. They’re starting to be more like my grandparents.” Mark didn’t seem to comprehend. “My mom was 46 when she had me.”

  “No she wasn’t! That’s not even possible!”

  “Yes she was and it is. It’s like a story you’d read about in a book. They didn’t think they could have a baby and then, for some reason, at 46 years old egg-me becomes fertilized.”

  “Egg-you?” Now Mark had lain down on his back and was looking up at her.

  “Yes, egg-me. Like me, but when I was just an egg. And they were confused, but they were thrilled. I was their little miracle baby, and they said I was a gift from God. When I was one, they dressed me up like a present with a tag that said “Love, God” and had a photo-shoot.”

  Mark couldn’t keep a straight face and started laughing. “It’s not funny! It’s sweet. And anyway, my mom always says that anything can happen as long as God’s involved, so I got to exist. But now, they’re 71 and are kind of bumbling around, a part of their little Seniors Club, playing bingo and shuffleboard. But the point is, I don’t think they’re going to understand this. Mental illness wasn’t so big in their younger years.” Lacey pursed her lips and tapped the phone on the floor a few times.

  “Well, you’re going to have to tell them. So you might as well tell them now.” He got up and disappeared into the bathroom, and Lacey dialed the phone slowly. She didn’t want to have to explain this to them. She felt a jolt of panic right before she went to press the last digit and her finger hung in the air for a minute, not knowing what to do. Then, very quickly so she wouldn’t chicken out, she finished dialing.

  The phone rang a few times and she felt a little relieved. It was going to go to voicemail (well, the answering machine). She could just leave them a message asking if they would call her back please. (And then when they called her back, she could pretend she didn’t hear her phone.) But just as she finished formulating this plan in her head she heard a cranky voice say, “Hello?”

  Lacey tried to sound happy but the pit of dread that sat in her stomach was starting to grow into an abyss. A big, dark abyss that would swallow her whole and then she wouldn’t be able to tell them anything. Actually, that wouldn’t be so bad. “Listen, can you guys put speakerphone on? I want to tell you both something.”

  After ten minutes of her parents arguing back and forth about who was going to talk on the phone (and then ten more minutes of Lacey reminding them of speaker phone, telling them how to turn it on, and them arguing about who was going to hold the phone), Lacey found her eyes filling with tears.

  As she told them about her illness, she wished she could tell them she was sick with literally anything else. People, like her mom and dad, didn’t necessarily understand mental illness, and it would be so much easier if she was sick with something physical. She didn’t want to have diabetes or heart disease or cancer, but she would rather get sympathy for her illness than a thousand questions about what she did that made her that way.

  After much talk of eating healthy, being out in the sunshine, exercising, going out and being with friends, praying, and a host of other suggestions that all reminded Lacey of the phrase, “fake it ‘til you make it,” she finally convinced her parents that she would need medicine for her disorder.

  They were taken aback, skeptical, and somewhat frustrated that she wouldn’t try all of their suggestions first, but they didn’t understand. This wasn’t something you could pray away, this wasn’t something you could cure with Vitamin D, this wasn’t caused by too much junk food; this was something she would need medicine for and, eventually, therapy.

  “See? How hard was that?” Mark smiled and took a sip of the Snapple he’d opened while she was on the phone. Lacey glared at him. He picked up the cap to his drink. “There are more French restaurants in New York City than in Paris,” he read. “I was waiting to tell you that. Seemed like a good one.”

  He popped the cap in his pocket and took a swig of the drink. She wasn’t going to ask what he was doing. She was sure she wouldn’t understand it anyway. If he wanted a pocketful of Snapple caps then that was his choice.

  “I’ve got some drugs here that you’ll need a drink with. Here,” he held out an orange pill bottle, “all the cool kids are doing it.”

  Lacey snatched the bottle of pills out of his hand and struggled with the child-proof lid. Finally, she turned it open and fished out a white tablet to go along with her blue Prozac pill. It didn’t look that bad. She popped it in her mouth, stole Mark’s drink, and took a big gulp. “Alright, and now we wait.” She sat on the couch. Mark wanted to tell her one pill wasn’t going to do anything, but he could tell she seemed too determined to believe that was true.

  Chapter 9

  One day later, Lacey walked to work feeling no better than she had the day before. She didn’t skip or walk on the curb. She didn’t hum or wave to people. She tried very hard to make her face look neutral so that no one would ask, “What’s wrong?” Because if someone asked her that, she had a feeling she would slap them across the face…and she wasn’t quite sure why. She wasn’t Bird Girl or Walrus Girl or in Fishbowl State. She was jus
t…angry.

  The door to The Mad Cutter swung open before Lacey even had a chance to reach the handle. Mayra stood in the door frame and frantically put her hands on Lacey’s shoulders.

  “LACEY,” her eyes were bugged out and she looked like she may be forgetting to breathe, “you can’t come in here. We have to talk. You – what happened to your hair?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Okay well you can tell it to me right now. We’re going out to breakfast. Your first appointment isn’t for an hour anyway. You need to tell me what’s been going on with you and why you’ve been missing.”

  “Mayra, relax.” Lacey smiled (and hated every second of it). “I’m perfectly fine. We can talk – just let me go in and put my stuff down and take a look at the appointment book to see-“

  “No!” Mayra hopped up on her toes and spread her arms out so that Lacey couldn’t push past her into the salon. Mayra had once told Lacey that if you run into a bear you should try to make yourself look bigger, like that would scare the bear away or something.

  Was that what she was trying to do? Scare Lacey away from the salon? Well, it wasn’t working. Mayra was the cutest, least-scary-looking thing in the world. She looked like a bug-eyed chinchilla, no match for Lacey, the unreasonably angry bear.

  “Mayra, it’s fine. Just let me in for five seconds and then we can go wherever you want to talk.”

  “Mayra?” Lacey heard Lana’s drawl from within the salon.

  “Go! Now! Run!” Mayra tried to push Lacey away from the salon, but Lacey wasn’t budging. “I’m serious, Lacey! Go! Now!”

  "Mayra, relax! What is wrong with you?” Despite her terrible mood, Lacey laughed. She had never seen Mayra so stressed out before – at least not without a critical final the next day. As Mayra kept pushing Lacey, Lana approached behind her and flicked Mayra away like she was a fleck of dust on Lana’s sweater.

  “Lacey,” she said as a slimy smile spread across her face, and she took a step towards her, “I’m so glad you’re back. I hope you’re feeling better after your case of…what was it, exactly?”

  “The flu,” Lacey answered, barely able to unclench her jaw. Why did everything Lana said have to sound so condescending? “I had the flu.” Lacey smiled her best syrupy smile back at her and took a step forward, trying out the whole bigger-than-you technique. It’s hard when you’re seven inches shorter than someone not to feel intimidated by them, though.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re over your little flu,” she said. “Now,” she started, but Mayra interrupted her.

  “Actually, Lana we have to go! We’re going out for breakfast since Lacey’s all better and she doesn’t have an appointment for a while, so we’ll be back a little bit later. You can tell her whatever you need to tell her then.”

  “Oh, it’ll only take a minute to tell her what I need to. By the way, in the future I’d like you to clear all outings with me first.” She looked at Mayra earnestly.

  “Lana, what is this power trip you’re on?” Lacey said. “You don’t even work here, what makes you think you can just boss everybody around and make them report to you? Why are you even still here? Mayra’s back. Your job is done.”

  “Oh Lacey, but that’s where your wrong!” She spoke with such sweetness it made Lacey’s teeth hurt.

  “Come on, Lace, let’s go!” Mayra desperately tried to pull Lacey down the street with her, but Lacey was too interested in what Lana had to say to go with her.

  "You are looking at the new owner of The Mad Cutter.” Lana proudly put her hands on her hips and stuck her nose up in the air, like she was waiting for applause. Lacey just stood there. “Of course, it won’t be called that for long,” she said. “Soon, you’ll be a part-time hair dresser at Lana’s Looks!”

  “Lana’s Looks?” Lacey thought about maybe throwing up all over Lana’s current look, but she didn’t think she had enough passion to produce vomit. “Wait – part-time? What does that mean? I’m not part-time.”

  “Well, we’re changing things around a little bit. I’ll explain it all later at the meeting – at 4:00. Be at your station with a notebook, ready to take notes. There are going to be a lot of changes around here, and your outfit is one of them.” Lana flicked her eyes over Lacey’s appearance and then looked her in the eye. “At Lana’s Looks, we have a dress code. No yoga pants or T-shirts, no sneakers, and no ponytails.”

  “My hair’s not even long enough for a ponytail, so I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Lacey managed through clenched teeth.

  “Also no obnoxious piercings, wild makeup, drawn-on eyebrows, purses with tassels, flip flops, jeans, sweatshirts, horizontal stripes – “

  “Lana, you’re naming things that half the people in the salon wear all the time."

  "Well, they won’t be wearing them for long, or else they’ll be fired. So, I suggest that you two go out for your little breakfast date and stop at your apartment and get changed on your way back. If you don’t have anything suitable, you’ll have to go shopping.” She started to turn around and then turned back to Lacey.

  “Nice hair.” She snorted. “I’ll let you keep it for now, because it gives me a good laugh.” She smiled genuinely and stalked away, looking like a tigress that had just attacked its prey and left it there to slowly die.

  "Mayra,” Lacey looked at her friend desperately searching for some sort of explanation, but Mayra’s face was the picture of sorrow.

  “Lacey, let’s go get something to eat. We’ll talk about what you’ve missed.” Mayra took Lacey’s arm in hers and led her down the street, probably toward Julio’s.

  “I’m not hungry,” Lacey whined, but Mayra just dragged her along.

  ✽✽✽

  “So Lana bought The Mad Cutter?” Lacey slurped her sickeningly sweet iced coffee, even though it was making her feel ill. She hadn’t wanted to get anything, but Mayra had insisted on buying her the glorified slushy while Lacey waited at the park bench. She wasn’t going to be rude and not drink it. If she had to, she would go throw up in the little pond towards the middle of the park.

  “Okay, basically what happened was she complained to her dad and her dad bought it for her. Liv was thinking of selling it anyway.” Liv was the 67-year-old woman who had owned The Mad Cutter before Lana bought it. “She actually admitted that she’s getting kind of old to be running a salon all by herself.”

  “That’s ridiculous. She’s the youngest old person I know.” Slurp. Regret.

  “Well, that’s what she said. So Lana swooped in and got her dad to offer way too much so Liv would have to say yes, plus she loves Lana anyway so she probably would’ve sold it to her no matter what. Anyway, so now she’s in charge and she’s going to make your life a living hell and I wanted to tell you more gently, but of course she had to ruin it. Now what I really want to know is, what happened to you? Where did you disappear to? Were you really sick?”

  “I just went to visit my parents for a few days.” Lacey had conjured up this lie on her way to work that morning so she wouldn’t have to talk about what actually happened. It was like Mark said - no one needed to know what was going on.

  “Lacey,” Mayra shook her head, “do you think that you’d go missing and I wouldn’t call your parents?”

  “What? But you couldn’t have called them. I just talked to them.”

  “Well, after it became clear that they had no clue what I was talking about and your mother was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown, I had Mark call and say that you were working on something for my wedding and it was a surprise, and I wasn’t supposed to know where you were.

  “He told them not to mention it to you because no one was supposed to know about it. I think they believed him. Then they figured if he knew about it he must be really special, and they started quizzing him about his intentions. That’s what he told me, anyway. Eventually he pretended that he was losing reception.”

  Lacey stared at Mayra and felt a wave of embarrassment come c
rashing down on her. Of course her parents had made Mark feel even more uncomfortable than he already was.

  “So, you better have some big awesome surprise for me on my wedding day,” she said and took a swig of her iced coffee. “Hey,” she poked Lacey, who had frozen, “I’m just kidding. What’s the matter with you? Why do you look so freaked out?”

  “I just don’t get it. Why is he always helping me so much? I know we’re friends, but we haven’t even known each other that long. He goes through an awful lot just so I’m content.”

  Mayra snorted. Lacey looked at her. “Lace, he obviously likes you. Like, he like likes you.”

  “Stop. What are you, twelve?” Lacey stirred up her drink and imagined taking another sip. Her stomach turned.

  “He does! He totally likes you. You should’ve seen him when you were missing. He was so freaked out. I actually felt really bad for him. I mean, I was worried, but he was just a mess. He thought he looked all calm and put-together but he was practically going crazy. I think he forgot to change his clothes one night and wore the same thing two days in a row.”

  “Oh.” Lacey glanced over at the tree roots she had tripped over a few weeks ago. “I hadn’t even thought of that…Oh my gosh. I’m such a jerk. I can’t believe it – I was so worried about myself, I never even thought of anyone else. What’s wrong with me?”

  “Okay, you can have your little guilt party later,” Mayra said, “and save some of it for me. I was upset too. And you can start your atonement by telling me exactly what happened and where you went.”

  “I…actually I really don’t want to talk about it, Mayra. I’m sorry.” Mayra was still looking at her expectantly. “I just…maybe another time, when it’s not so fresh. There’s just a lot going on right now and I’m having trouble dealing with it all.”