When Reason Breaks

by Cindy L. Rodriguez

  “He loves you, Elizabeth, like I do,” her mom says.

  Elizabeth bows her head and continues to shake her head in disbelief.

  “I love you, Elizabeth,” her mother says. She puts a finger under Elizabeth’s chin and raises her head. “Look at me, sweetie. I love you so much, you have no idea. I’m sorry you haven’t felt that. I’ll say it a thousand times a day until you believe me.”

  “I love you, too,” says Lily. She jumps off the chair and hops onto the couch behind Elizabeth. She leans into her sister. Tears stream down Elizabeth’s face. Her mother brushes them away with her hands.

  “Boy, we’re a mess, huh?” her mom says.

  Her mom’s dark circles are there, as usual, and her eyes are rimmed red from crying, but her pale-green eyes radiate certainty and confidence.

  “Hold on a second,” says Elizabeth. She stands and walks out of the room. She returns to the living room with her camera and sits between her mother and sister.

  “Everyone squeeze together,” says Elizabeth.

  “Whose is that?” asks her mother.

  “It’s from school.”

  “Do they know you have it?”

  Elizabeth stares at her. “Yes, Julia, I use the camera for the school newspaper. I didn’t steal it.”

  “That’s great, but if you did steal it, we’d discuss it as a family.”

  “Yeah, yeah, just move in closer,” says Elizabeth.

  “You want to take a picture now? Oh, honey, we look awful.”

  “No, we don’t,” says Elizabeth. “We look beautiful. Tears and all. Come on. Move in close.”

  The three squish together. Lily smiles wide and says an extended, “Cheeeeeese.” Elizabeth stretches out her arms and turns the camera toward them. When she’s about to take the picture, her mom kisses Elizabeth on her forehead. Elizabeth closes her eyes and smiles.

  Click.

  Suddenly, Elizabeth’s exhausted. Her mom and sister are beat, too. It’s not that late, but they all decide to get into pajamas. After Lily changes clothes, she crawls into Elizabeth’s bed.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” asks Elizabeth as she brushes her hair by her dresser.

  “Let’s end the night with a slumber party,” says Lily. She pats the covers next to her. “Come on.”

  Elizabeth smiles. “Fine. I won’t kick you out.”

  Her mom stands in the doorway to see what’s going on.

  Lily pats the bed again. “Come on, Mom, we’re having a slumber party.”

  Her mom looks at Elizabeth. “Come on,” says Elizabeth.

  “All right,” her mom says. “Move over, Rover.”

  Lily giggles and creates room for everyone. Elizabeth climbs in, followed by her mom. Lily jumps out of bed and returns with three stuffed animals, one for each of them. As they settle into bed, Elizabeth’s mother softly sings a lullaby, like she used to do during thunderstorms. Tonight, though, everything is clear and calm. After a few minutes of listening to her mother’s soothing song, Elizabeth, for the first time in over a year, falls into a deep, restful sleep.

  Chapter 38

  “Such are the inlets of the mind –”

  Everything in Emily’s hospital room is plastic with no sharp edges, and everything is monitored: blood pressure, heart rate, temperature, eating, going to the bathroom, medication. She takes her pills. They check her mouth to confirm she swallows them. Other things drip directly into her blood through the IV.

  She’s never alone.

  She wants to be left alone.

  They ask her countless questions.

  She doesn’t answer any of them.

  They can’t help her if she doesn’t talk to them.

  On day four, she starts to feel better physically, but she’s angry and embarrassed. Her parents and brother are constant visitors. This doesn’t help. A small group of interns marches in. This doesn’t help, either. Here, young doctors, this is what a suicide survivor looks like. Interesting, isn’t it? Here are her charts, take a peek. Go ahead, take notes, but don’t tap the glass. Let’s not irritate her further.

  One day, her parents are out of the room when a psychiatrist or psychologist or social worker comes in. Different person, same questions. This time, Emily answers a select few.

  “What would I have done differently that day? I would’ve written DNR on my chest with a black permanent marker.”

  “Do Not Resuscitate?” he asks, peering over his glasses.

  “Good point. I would’ve written it out to prevent any misunderstanding,” Emily says. “And, what would I say to Ms. Diaz or Elizabeth if they were here right now? I’d say, ‘Fuck you.’ ”

  “But if they didn’t find you, you’d be dead.”

  “Exactly.”

  The doctor scribbles furiously. Emily’s comments win her more days in the hospital. This is fine with her. The alternative is going home, and once she goes home, they may want her to go back to school. No way.

  On day six, Emily feels better overall. She’s hydrated, medicated, and well nourished. The sight of her parents doesn’t trigger a desire to puke or throw something.

  Pop reads to her from the newspaper at first, but then switches to a lighthearted novel since the news is always tragic. She doesn’t tell him that she’s already read the book.

  Mamá’s more clearheaded than usual. She pushes her daughter’s hair away from her face like she did when Emily was young and didn’t feel well. Mamá was never very affectionate, but Emily remembers this—how Mamá pushed aside her hair and checked for a fever with the back of her hand.

  Austin entertains her with his college stories and promises to visit on the weekends more often. He tells her Kevin came to the hospital, but the nurses said immediate family only. He delivers a postcard from Kevin to Emily that says, “Wish you were here.” Austin doesn’t ever mention Abby and bolts out of the room when he feels like crying.

  The monster inside her is weakened, but not dead. The medical team tries to pull it out of her, but she doesn’t cooperate. She won’t talk. She answers some of their questions, but she won’t open up.

  Still, they say talking even a little is progress. They push her a bit. They ask her to help create a safety plan and sign a no-suicide contract.

  She won’t make any promises.

  This means more days in the hospital.

  Chapter 39

  “Growth of Man – like Growth of Nature –”

  Ms. Diaz stands in front of her period one class for the first time since Emily’s attempted suicide and her own five-day medical leave. She can’t ignore what happened, but she doesn’t want to dwell on it, either. The students sit in their seats silently and wait for her to say something.

  Kevin’s face is ashen. Tommy stares at the floor and Abby and Sarah turn away whenever Ms. Diaz glances at them. Elizabeth sits up straight and looks directly at her teacher.

  “Hi,” Ms. Diaz says finally.

  The students laugh a little.

  “A while ago, a student asked me why I became a teacher,” Ms. Diaz says and glances at Elizabeth. “I said I teach because I love literature. She pointed out I didn’t say anything about my students. What happened with Emily made me realize I do love my students. And since I have the news editor in the room, let me clarify that I do not love any of you in an inappropriate way. Got that, Mr. Bowles?”

  “Got it,” Tommy says.

  “What I mean is I don’t only care about whether you can read and write well. I care about you as people, and I believe you are capable of great things. Each of you will contribute something to this world. You are important. You would be missed.”

  Ms. Diaz closes her eyes for a few moments, then opens them and says:

  All but Death, can be Adjusted –

  Dynasties repaired –

  Systems – settled in their Sockets –

  Citadels – dissolved –

  Wastes of Lives – resown with Colors

  By Succeeding Springs –

/>   Death – unto itself – Exception –

  Is exempt from Change –

  Ms. Diaz lets her words sink in. She looks at each of them and smiles kindly. She stops when she gets to Emily’s empty seat.

  Everyone is still for a few moments and then Ms. Diaz says, “Let’s get back to work.”

  Students groan.

  At the end of class, Elizabeth asks Ms. Diaz, “Can I come see you at lunch?”

  “Sure. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Really. I want to open my shoe box.”

  Ms. Diaz’s eyes widen. “Yeah?”

  “I’m ready,” says Elizabeth. “Are you?”

  “I’m ready. I’ll see you at lunch.”

  Elizabeth meets Tommy at the door and slips her hand into his as they walk away.

  At lunchtime, Elizabeth comes alone and pulls a chair close to her teacher’s desk. Ms. Diaz hands Elizabeth the shoe box and sets her binder directly in front of her.

  “Ready?” Ms. Diaz asks.

  “Ready,” says Elizabeth. “On the count of three.”

  “Sure,” Ms. Diaz says and laughs. On three, they rip off the tape. Ms. Diaz opens the binder and Elizabeth takes off the shoe box lid. They’re quiet and alternately look at each other and the contents. Ms. Diaz flips the pages of the binder and unfolds some pages that were shoved inside. Elizabeth takes out her drawings, pictures, and poems, one by one.

  “Some of these are pretty bad,” Elizabeth says and laughs.

  “I’m sure some are pretty good, too,” says Ms. Diaz.

  They continue to examine their work. Elizabeth opens her lunch bag and pulls out a sandwich, a bag of chips, an apple, and a soda.

  “Apple for the teacher?” she asks.

  “Thanks,” Ms. Diaz says and smiles. “So, how are you, really?”

  “I’m okay. My mom packed me a lunch and drove me to school today, and I talked to my dad a little bit.”

  “That’s great. And, there’s Tommy.”

  “Yeah,” says Elizabeth, smiling. “What about you? Are you okay?”

  “I’m not sure, but I know I need to move forward with my life, which includes doing something with this. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m ready.”

  “What are you going to do with it?” asks Elizabeth.

  “Not sure yet. What about you?”

  “I might enter the art show,” says Elizabeth. “I want to combine the poems with the pictures and drawings. A lot will have to be revised and redrawn. Most of these were done quickly. Will you help me with the poems?”

  “I’d love to,” says Ms. Diaz. “You’re going to display your work? That’s a big step.”

  “Yeah, but I think I’m ready. Maybe these will be my contribution to the world.”

  “I’m sure you’ll contribute to the world in many ways, Elizabeth.”

  “Do you think she’ll come back to school this year?” asks Elizabeth.

  “No. Ms. Gilbert said she’ll probably have a tutor from the homebound program through the end of the school year. If she’s ready, she’ll return in September.”

  “I want to tell her how sorry I am,” says Elizabeth.

  “You can write to her or you can wait and focus on yourself for a bit. You’ve been through a lot, too.”

  “You, too,” says Elizabeth.

  For the rest of the period, they nibble on their lunches and quietly sort through the fragments of their lives spread out before them.

  Chapter 40

  “I found the words to every thought”

  MARCH 15

  On day eight, Emily feels stronger, lighter. She talks more to the doctors who stream in and out of her room. She’s making progress, they tell her. She knows. She can feel it. The monster is wounded but still breathes. She has more work to do. She won’t be able to walk away and leave all the psychiatrists and psychologists and social workers behind. She knows there’ll be more of the same after she’s discharged. She’s beginning to accept this and the idea of home, but not school. She will not go back to school this year. That’s fine, they say. We’ll make other arrangements.

  Still, Emily is apprehensive about leaving. She first saw the hospital as a prison. Now it’s more of a cozy sanctuary. Everything runs on routines. Everything is monitored, and if something is “off,” it’s adjusted to what’s considered “normal.” What happens when she goes home? Will everything start to unravel again? One thing she’s learned from her chats with the shrinks is that she can’t control what others think or do. She can only control her own thoughts, actions, and emotions. So, the big question hanging above her head is: How will she respond to her family and friends and Kevin and school once she’s out of the hospital?

  Emily doesn’t know the answer. She doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to navigate her life and not lose herself again. Some days she thinks she is. Other days, she’s not sure.

  Emily stands by the window and watches the sky pelt the earth with a rainstorm designed to erase winter and make room for spring. Just then, a nurse walks in with an envelope.

  “What’s this?” Emily asks.

  “You’ve got mail,” she says.

  She opens the envelope and pulls out the card that has a sketch on the front of three people making snow angels. Emily recognizes the artist’s style. Inside the card is a photograph of Elizabeth, Tommy, Kevin, and Lily, all making silly faces, and a handwritten note:

  Dear Emily,

  Ms. Diaz’s favorite female recluse once wrote: “The Soul selects her own Society –” Right now, you may hate us, and I know we’re a bunch of crazy misfits, but we’re so very sorry and we miss you. When you come home, if it makes you feel better, you can punch us each in the face (except for Lily) because we deserve it. After that, maybe we can go bowling and cream the boys again. It can be a real double date this time. I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’re not alone, and we hope when you come home you’ll select us as your society.

  Peace,

  Elizabeth

  Emily holds the card to her chest and sinks to the floor. She opens her mouth and lets out a wail. Nurses fly into her room and surround her, checking if she hurt herself. They lift her off the floor and walk her to the bed. Emily climbs in, hugs her pillow, and sobs uncontrollably. People are called. Coded language is used.

  The doctor arrives and asks new questions, ones that assess whether she knows what’s real. Is she seeing things? Hearing voices? Emily realizes they think she’s much worse and losing touch with reality. She forces herself to sit up and gain control of her crying. She hands the card to the doctor. He has been here before, asking her questions about her family and friends. He reads the card and looks at Emily.

  “Is this why you’re crying?”

  “Yes,” she whispers. Tears spill down her cheeks.

  “Do you want to talk?”

  Emily nods.

  The doctor sighs with relief and dismisses the nurses. He listens and takes notes and asks a few questions, but Emily does most of the talking. She talks about bowling and snow angels and catching flakes on her tongue. About sharing Pop-Tarts with an unlikely friend and finally kissing the boy she’s liked since the second grade. She talks about Austin teaching her to play dominoes and Pop running beside her when she learned to ride a bike. She describes Mamá’s laughter and how she misses hearing it.

  For the first time, she talks about love and needing people and wanting to be strong all the time, not only sometimes. Even if she’s wounded, she will never give up. She’ll create a safety plan. Whatever they want, she’ll do it. It won’t be easy, but right now, on day eight, something has clicked inside of her. The monster is in a half nelson hold and she won’t let go.

  “I want to go home,” she says.

  Chapter 41

  “ ‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers –”

  MAY 15

  Two months pass. Snow stops falling and the wind loses its brutal bite. The days get warmer, and the sky often cries to soften the earth
’s surface and feed the flowers eager to decorate the world.

  Ms. Diaz strolls into the main office before her first period class to check her mailbox. She recycles most of the contents, as usual, but among the junk is an envelope addressed to her in actual handwriting. She checks the return address and stands frozen for a moment before returning to her classroom. After period one, she asks Elizabeth, Tommy, and Kevin to see her at lunchtime. “Bring your jackets,” she tells them.

  When they arrive, Ms. Diaz shoves the letter into her pocket, puts on her coat, and leads them outside.

  “Where are we going?” asks Elizabeth.

  “To the woods.”

  Elizabeth and the boys stop in their tracks, but Ms. Diaz walks on.

  “Ms. D! Hey! Stop!” Elizabeth shouts. They run to catch up. Elizabeth stands in front of Ms. Diaz to stop her. Tommy and Kevin stand to the side.

  “Ms. D, what are you doing? Why are you going to the woods?” Elizabeth asks.

  “Emily wrote me a letter.”

  “Really?” asks Elizabeth, her eyes open wide.

  “Yes, it’s in my pocket.”

  “Okay, but why go there? I don’t think it’s a good idea. Back me up here, guys,” she says.

  “Definitely a bad idea,” says Tommy.

  Kevin stares at the ground and snorts back a sniffle. “I can’t, Ms. D,” he says softly.

  “We need to,” she says and places a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “Before what happened, it was one of my favorite places. I brought my students there each year to write poetry. I can’t imagine never going back. I need to reclaim the space, to see it as a stunning display of nature, not a mausoleum.”

  “Fine,” says Elizabeth. “That’s your thing. We don’t need to go.”

  Tommy crosses his arms. Kevin clasps his hands behind his head and walks in tight circles. Elizabeth closes her eyes for a moment. Tommy steps closer and holds her hand.

  “I could use the company,” Ms. Diaz says. “I figure there’s strength in numbers. It might be easier if we go together. We don’t have much time. Will you come with me?”