Sad Perfect

by Stephanie Elliot

  Savara and you settle in to watch Full House. It seems to be the thing to do, as several other kids have come to the lounge to watch TV too. At the first commercial you tell Savara you’re going to the kitchen to get some water and you ask if she wants anything to drink.

  “Nah, I’m good,” she says.

  “I’ll be right back,” you tell her.

  The lights are on in the kitchen and Damian is at the sink washing his hands.

  “Hey,” you say. “Can I get a cup for water?”

  “Sure. Styrofoam cups in that cabinet,” he says, nodding to his left.

  You pull out a cup and go to the machine for ice and water. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

  Damian looks down as if he doesn’t remember what T-shirt he has on. It’s one that says, I’m with Handsome with an arrow pointing up to his face.

  “Oh yeah, well, it’s true.” He laughs. “Oh, I have something for you…” He wipes his hands on his jeans, reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a folded envelope.

  “Here you go. Almost forgot to give this to you.”

  He hands you the envelope.

  “What is it?”

  “Your boyfriend was here today.”

  “Ben?”

  “If that’s his name? I was taking the garbage out and this guy stopped me and showed me a picture of you on his phone—you two hiking? By the way, I so didn’t peg you as the hiking type. Anyway, he asked if I knew you and if I would give you this letter. Offered me ten bucks.”

  You furrow your brow, imagining the scenario, Ben being here earlier in the day, maybe right after school, trying to find a way to get a letter to you.

  “You know,” Damian says, “he really shouldn’t have been hanging around here. If Winthrop saw him, she’d probably find a reason to have him committed.”

  You laugh and take a sip of your water. “You’re not kidding.”

  You slip the envelope into your pocket.

  “For the record, I didn’t take his money,” Damian says.

  “I knew you wouldn’t. Thanks for getting it to me.”

  You head back to the lounge, the words from Ben tucked in your pocket.

  You look for Savara to tell her about your letter but she’s gone. The TV is still on, volume on High, but no one is watching anymore. Kids have moved to the table and they’re coloring and playing checkers. You sit down on a chair, put your water on the table next to you, and pull the envelope out of your pocket to read Ben’s letter.

  Just as you start to open it, Ken, the nerdy fat kid who was Malik’s roommate, comes up behind you and snatches the envelope out of your hand. He walks around and sits super-close to you on one of the chairs. He’s creepy and his teeth are crooked and really yellow. And he’s holding the only connection you have to Ben in his meaty hands.

  “What’s this?” He raises his eyebrows.

  “Give that back,” you snarl at him. He’s bad news. He upset everyone at lunch this afternoon and now he’s bullying you. “I need that back. Please.” You try to look at him nicely even though you want to kill him.

  Ken responds, “How bad do you want it?”

  You can’t believe he’s bribing you. You stare at Ken, trying to figure out what to do while the laugh track of Full House plays.

  He toys with the envelope. “What’s this all about?”

  He turns the envelope over in his hands, lifts it up to the light as if he’s trying to read through it. “So what’s it gonna be?” he asks. “Am I going to have to read it here, or do you want to make some sort of deal? I know where we can go do some negotiating.”

  You want to vomit. But before you can think of anything to say, Chad bolts out of his room and pulls the envelope from Ken’s hands. You didn’t realize that he was there, on his bed in the dark, watching this whole encounter unfold.

  “Don’t be a dick, Ken. You’re such an asshole.” Chad hands you the now-crumpled envelope. “Get out of here and find someone else to bully.” Chad glares at Ken.

  “I was just having some fun, I wasn’t going to read it,” Ken whines, then gets up from the Lego chair and skulks over to the benches where the younger kids are coloring.

  “Oh my God, Chad, thank you so much,” you say.

  “No problem. That guy is such a douche.”

  “The worst.”

  “Yeah,” Chad says. “Well, I’ll let you get to your letter.”

  You stand up and before you leave, you give Chad a hug. “Thanks,” you say. “That was awesome of you.”

  You go to your room, open the envelope, and take out the piece of paper. Your heart starts racing when you see Ben’s words.

  Babe,

  (You love when he calls you babe.)

  I miss you. I can’t stand being away from you.

  (Your stomach flutters like it did the first time you met him and he held your hand and you felt it all the way down to your toes.)

  I need to hold you again. I need you in my arms.

  (You too wish so badly that you could be with him, that you could hold each other.)

  You’ll be out of there soon. I promise. Then I can hold you and kiss you and love you.

  Because I do. I love you. And I want you to know that. I wanted to tell you at the lake on Sunday and I should have. I love you.

  Think of me when you go to sleep and when you wake up because I’ll be thinking of you then.

  I’ll be waiting for you when you come home. I love you.

  Ben

  51

  After breakfast on Thursday you thank Chad again for getting your letter back from Ken.

  “No problem,” Chad says. “I should have warned you about Ken sooner. Just stay as far away from him as you can.”

  “I’m hoping I won’t have to deal with him much longer. I hope I get to go home tomorrow after my assessment meeting.”

  “It’s tomorrow already?” he asks.

  “Yep.”

  “Well, steer clear of him from now on. He’s got his sights set on you for some reason.”

  “Thanks,” you say.

  * * *

  Your day is busy—you have a therapy session on mindfulness and a morning break of a couple of eighties sitcoms, and then there’s another lunch you don’t eat—ham sandwich and potato salad. Then everyone heads outside for outdoor-activity time.

  During the allotted twenty minutes of fresh air, there is a discussion of whether you should play badminton or basketball. No one wants to play either game. Instead you all lie on the concrete court, lapping up the warmth like a bunch of iguanas, like you may never get to see the sun again. It feels decadent to be outside, to feel the heat on your skin. It feels a bit like hope, like there might be a future.

  “Is this what mindfulness feels like?” you ask.

  “Are you being in the moment?” Savara jokes.

  “I might be, actually.”

  “Are you not judging how the sun feels on your face? And just noticing it?” Chad chimes in.

  You laugh. “Sure.”

  “Then I guess you’re being mindful of what it’s like to sit in the sun.”

  You think about this. Being mindful. The stuff they’re shoving down your throat at therapy sessions. Being in the moment, not judging. Have you been judgmental? Of course. You immediately judge the girls on Instagram and Twitter, by what they say, by how they pose, by how they appear in their photos. You come to an instant conclusion about people by what they wear and how they look, and by what they say or how they act, and who they hang out with. You’re trying to be mindful now but you’re not too sure about this stuff. How is being “mindful” going to make you a less anxious or depressed person? You don’t get it. Then you realize your mind is wandering.

  “Oh shit,” you say. “I stopped being mindful!”

  Chad, Savara, and Starling laugh.

  You close your eyes, letting the sun warm your face, and think of Ben. You miss him and can’t believe what he wrote in his letter.

  He loves you.<
br />
  How can he love you when you’ve got the monster in the way, when you were so mean to him, when you can’t promise you won’t freak out on him again?

  How can you be so deserving of him, of his love?

  You’re going to have to trust him. Trust his love.

  You’re going to have to be better to him.

  You know your disorder—your monster—has prevented you from opening up to people whom you care about. You want to start being completely present and open with others.

  Especially Ben.

  You know you want Ben in your life. And you’re getting stronger, you feel it. You’ve felt the monster settling down—even though you hate being in the hospital, something is changing.

  You’re just not sure exactly what. Maybe the desire not to be here is so strong, there’s a shift inside of you to do something different, something big to change the way you’ve been living.

  Maybe, just maybe, you are being mindful?

  * * *

  That night, after dinner, you and Savara are in your room. She’s going through her things, which don’t add up to much, just some toiletries and her clothes. You’re sitting on your bed, watching her pack.

  “What are you going to do when you go home?” you ask her.

  “I’m going to go back to seeing my therapist. I think my parents want to send me to a different school. Which might be okay. There’s been a lot of crap at my school. I think I need some new friends, better influences.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever have to come back here?”

  Savara looks at you and grins. “As much as I like you and don’t want to leave you, I hope I never come back.”

  You laugh because it’s so true. Despite only knowing Savara a couple of days, you’ve bonded quickly. The Crazy House will do that to people.

  “You know I would have completely lost it in here without you,” you tell her.

  “You would have been fine,” Savara says.

  “Well, anyway, I’m glad you were here.”

  “Starling’s gonna lose her shit when I leave tomorrow,” Savara says.

  “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “You’ll probably get out right after me,” Savara notes.

  You hope so. You hope you get to go home after your assessment tomorrow, which will be your fourth day here. You’re ready to go home. You are ready to do whatever it takes to create a normal life for yourself, no matter what that might be.

  Savara finishes packing and then you go out to make a call. You don’t mind that your parents didn’t come tonight because you’ll see them tomorrow. You hope they’ve arranged for Shayna to be here.

  But right now, all you can think about is calling Ben.

  52

  Ben answers the phone and just hearing his voice brings all your emotions front and center. Tears trickle down your cheeks and you sniffle back sounds of crying. You don’t want to cry.

  Immediately you apologize.

  “It’s okay,” he says. Then, “I miss you, babe. Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” You wipe your nose and compose yourself. “Thanks for the letter. I love it,” you whisper.

  “I love you,” he says. It’s the first time you’ve heard him say it.

  “I love you too.” I love you too.

  They are like magic words and you literally feel the monster shrivel inside of you. The power of the words, of having someone important love you and being able to love that someone back, it’s not like it angers the monster into a rage, but it diminishes his power. It makes him seriously crumble a bit. You’re taking away his power by loving and being loved. You’re discovering this. That love can overpower the monster. You hold on to this information, knowing that it will be needed down the road when things are hard again.

  “How are you?” Ben asks.

  A calm has come over you and you tell him you feel okay, that you feel like you’re getting well, and you want to get well, that you want to get out of here. That you don’t hate it here, and most of the kids are actually very nice. You don’t tell him about Malik because you don’t want to cry anymore. You want to feel this happiness that’s building. You want to keep it growing there.

  “When will you be home? I miss you so much.”

  “Mom and Dad come tomorrow for a big meeting,” you say. “I hope they’ll let me leave with them.”

  “Me too,” Ben says. “Then we could have the whole weekend together.”

  You think about this, to be able to spend the weekend with Ben. To hug him and kiss him and just see him. The thought makes you feel like you’re going to get through this, knowing he wants you as much as you want him and that he’s waiting for you.

  One of the nurses taps her wrist, motioning that your time for the phone call is up.

  “Ben, I’ve got to go. My time’s up. Maybe by this time tomorrow I’ll be home?”

  “I would love that. I love you. I miss you. I love you.” He says it twice.

  Twice.

  “I love you too.”

  53

  Savara’s parents come after breakfast on Friday to get her. You hug each other tightly and say goodbye. You think you probably won’t ever talk to her again and you’re pretty sad about that but you feel like people come in and out of your life for a reason and you know Savara helped you through a very difficult time.

  It’s weird having Savara gone and at lunchtime you feel her absence when it’s just you, Chad, and Starling clustered at one corner of a table.

  A new patient comes in and she sits by herself at the end of your table. You know without a doubt that if Savara were here, she would invite the girl over to eat with the group. You can tell she’s lonely and scared, and she looks about your age, but you just haven’t got it in you to invite her to sit with you. Later, you’re going to feel guilty about ignoring the girl, but you’re a bundle of nervous energy about the big meeting you have after lunch with Reynolds and Winthrop and you’re in no mood to make small talk with a new person.

  “Why’re you so quiet?” Chad finally asks, between bites of ravioli.

  Weird how after only four days he can tell how you’re feeling.

  “I’m nervous about my assessment meeting this afternoon,” you admit.

  “If they let you out, I’m gonna die in here!” Starling says dramatically.

  “Shut up,” Chad says. “That’s not cool.”

  Starling lowers her head and pokes at her ravioli.

  Chad turns his attention back to you. “They’ll probably let you out. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I threw that huge fit on Wednesday,” you remind him.

  “But God, it was warranted, it was because of Malik,” he says.

  “Please!” Starling moans. “Don’t bring up Malik!”

  The new girl at the end of the table looks at the three of you.

  One of the staffers walks over to your table to check in.

  “Everything’s fine, Rick,” Chad says. “We’re just sad about Malik.” He nods in Starling’s direction.

  Rick nods and walks away.

  Chad leans in to you and you search his green eyes, sensing he’s going to say something very important. He does.

  “Listen. If they ask you if you’re having those thoughts anymore, tell them you’re not. Tell them they’re gone. Even if you still have them.”

  You hold his gaze and there’s something deep and dark in his eyes, something that makes you believe he knows what he’s talking about.

  “Even if you think about it for a split second ever, don’t tell them.” He comes closer to you and you feel his warm breath as he whispers in your ear. “If you do, they’ll keep you here. I promise you that.”

  You pull back and get your focus, clear your head, and wonder if you’re really having those kinds of thoughts anymore because you don’t think you are. But you’re not sure.

  Chad picks up his spork, takes another bite of his ravioli, which has to be cold by now, and mouths one last word to
you, but it’s still very clear, although no one else hears it:

  “Lie.”

  54

  They’re waiting for you in Dr. Winthrop’s mahogany office—your parents, Dr. Winthrop, Ms. Reynolds, Horrible Janet the nurse, and Damian. You mouth to Damian, What are you doing here? and he whispers back, “Day shift, today and tomorrow.” You’re glad he’s here even though everyone looks as if they’re conducting an intervention on your life, sitting in big leather chairs. You feel like you should plant yourself right smack in the middle of the floor, front and center, and let them fire away at you.

  Then you see Shayna and you feel a glimmer of hope spark in the center of your soul. If there’s any chance of you getting out of here, it’s Shayna. She, of all people, knows you’re not crazy. She knows you’re not suicidal. Shayna knows you only have an eating disorder. You’re sure she’ll get you out.

  You take a seat between your mom and dad, the spot that you think is the safest in the room, and Dr. Winthrop begins with introductions. Then she dives right in and addresses you directly.

  “We’re all here because we care about your well-being, and we think you’re in danger of harming yourself. High risk. That’s why you’re here,” she says.

  You stare at her.

  “Have you realized that’s the reason you’ve been brought inpatient?”

  “I’m not going to kill myself. I didn’t attempt suicide either.”

  Ms. Reynolds and Dr. Winthrop exchange glances.

  “I’m doing everything I’m supposed to be doing here. This is my fourth day. Can’t I go home? Please? I’m being really good.”

  Ms. Reynolds jots something down and then asks, “Are you going to continue to cope with harmful behavior? Our goal is for you to stop hurting yourself.”

  You can’t argue that you didn’t “hurt” yourself because you did do damage to yourself, although it didn’t hurt. “You’re right. I did hurt myself. I admit that. It was stupid of me to mess around with safety pins. But that was all it was. There’s no way I could have killed myself with safety pins. Really! And no. I’m not going to do that anymore.”

  You look at your parents and say, “Mom, Dad, I promise. I’m not going to do anything stupid like that anymore. Ever, ever again.”