“I’ll admit he may be having side effects, but they’re not life threatening.” She glances at her rearview mirror, then to me before merging into traffic. The bridge looms ahead.
“How do you know?”
She glances at me. “I am a doctor, Darby.”
“Yeah, but you said you made mistakes.”
She bites her bottom lip. “Touché. But I swear it’s not my intention to harm Adam. I’m trying to heal him.”
“How did things get so twisted in his mind?”
“Depression is powerful. So are delusions. The sufferer believes them and ignores evidence to the contrary.”
“So he can’t see reality?”
“Exactly.”
“How do we get him to?”
Another glance in the rearview. “Hopefully the injection I gave him will decrease the intensity of his thoughts, then we’ll talk things out when he wakes up.”
“That’ll really work?”
She nods. “It should.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll have to go to the hospital.” She checks her blind spot and shifts lanes. “Sound fair to you?”
Poor Adam. He thinks Shaw’s trying to hurt him but all she’s done is try to help. “Yeah, it does actually.”
“Good.”
Five minutes later, she pulls up to a super modern house with tons of windows and tasteful landscaping. It’s beyond nice.
She presses a button to open the garage door. “Ready?”
I unbuckle my seatbelt, taking slow breaths.
Adam will make it through this. He has to.
Otherwise, Daniel will die all over again.
I hesitate with my leg half out of the car. Is that the only reason I want Adam to get better, so I don’t have to lose Daniel a second time?
Shaw’s already at the backseat. “Darby. We’ll have to carry him.”
I crawl into the seat next to him. “I dunno if I can lift him.”
She frowns. “Of course, your injury. Okay. I’ll do it. Just get the door and help as much as you can.”
I take the keys from her. “Alright.”
“He’ll get through this. We’ll make it work.” She rests a hand on my shoulder. She keeps repeating things will get better like saying it over and over will make it true.
“I know,” I say, more confident than I feel.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Adam
I shiver. Wherever I am is cold. My body is leaden and hollow all at once. At least I’m laying on a soft surface. The last thing I remember is Shaw jabbing me in the bottom with a needle and Shaw and Darby restraining me.
Darby, my only hope, the one person who could help me, has turned against me. Guess it was a fool’s hope, thinking Darby could resist Shaw’s power.
I open my heavy eyelids. The room is vacuous, pristine, and white. Floor lamps anchor the four corners, their soft glow smiling on the pale hardwoods. Windows surround the room’s outside walls. Twilight hovers around the house. I must have been out for a while. Mum and Dad must be beside themselves. Oh, what have I gotten myself into?
The steady, confident click of heels makes my blood run cold. Shaw emerges from a dim hallway, carrying a tray with three glasses of water.
Darby follows in her wake, holding a bowl in her hands. Popcorn domes over the top. Popcorn?
Across the room, a TV sits above a fireplace. A movie plays on it, muted. Is this what they’ve been doing while I slept? Not exactly criminal behavior, but odd nonetheless.
Darby catches me watching her. Her eyes widen. A tentative smile plays at her lips. Hope. But hope for what? “Adam, you’re awake.”
She sets the bowl on the coffee table and kneels next to me where I lay on a couch. “How are you feeling?”
My throat is dry, thick. “Where are we?” I rasp.
“Shaw’s house.”
I try to sit up, then flop back down, taken over by swirls and dizziness. “No, we can’t … ”
“Easy, rest. It’s safe here.” Darby clamps a hand on my shoulder. “You said no hospital, right? Well, this is the only place we could think of.”
“This is worse,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. My head throbs in time with my pulse. “What the bloody hell did you do to me?”
Shaw sets her tray next to the popcorn. “You were in a full blown panic attack. The injection I gave you terminated it and hopefully it will ease the intensity of the delusions you’re having. And your auditory hallucinations should resolve. Darby told me about them.”
I stare at her, mute.
“I’m glad she called me. I never thought this would go so far. Darby saved your life.” She sits in a chair next to me.
I find my voice. “N-never meant … what? This is all because of you.”
Darby bites her lip. “She didn’t mean it.”
I gape. “Are you serious? Of course she meant it. Why else would she prescribe medications that interfere with my heart, for god’s sake?” My voice raises a couple octaves, stretching to the tops of Shaw’s vaulted ceilings.
Shaw furrows her brow. “I should apologize to you. I broke your trust. I thought challenging you would break your obsessions and cure your depression. But it only made things worse. Then with the ziprasidone debacle … I should’ve seen the mess methylphenidate would make. Your mom begged me for something. I guess I had my own delusion—that it would jumpstart your recovery. I never thought it would make your symptoms worse, that’s how much I believed it would work. Seems foolish now, that I’ve done all this to you. And I’m so sorry for every single worry, every single sleepless night, every single doubt you’ve had about me, about your parents’ fears for you, about your treatment, and about your own mind.”
Goosebumps erupt all over my skin. I shudder. She can’t be admitting to what she’s done. This must be for Darby’s benefit. “Then why give me something that could upset my heart? And what about the grit in my coffee? And why’d you convince Mum and Dad I wanted to commit suicide?”
Shaw sucks in a deep breath. “The dose of ziprasidone was low enough to minimize any risk of that. I’d also cleared it with Doctor Jenkins. He had no concerns, so I had no concerns. As far as your parents being convinced you wanted to commit suicide, you did that on your own.”
“I never wanted to commit suicide.”
She blinks. Nope, she’s not buying it. Surprisingly, she doesn’t confront me about it.
“And the grit?”
Her forehead wrinkles. “In the coffee.”
“Yeah, the coffees you brought me. They were all full of grit.”
She squeezes her eyes shut briefly. “Oh, god. The coffee grounds. I had grit in my latte too. I asked the barista about it and he said their machine was on the fritz. And you thought … ” She sighs. “You thought I was putting something in your drink.”
“You were. What was it?”
“I swear, I wasn’t doctoring your coffee.” She crisscrosses her heart with a finger, all scout’s honor style.
“You’re lying,” I say.
Darby huffs, frustrated with me. She’s falling for Shaw’s line of bull.
Shaw shakes her head. “I’m not lying.”
I squint at her.
She raises her hands in surrender. “I know, I know. Sometimes I break the rules. Heart transplant work is so unique that it calls for it. There’s such a fine line between life and death and people in your situation live in that line. Most transplant candidates would do anything for a second chance at life. You wouldn’t believe some of the things people say—that they’d willingly kill someone for their heart, that they’ll pay tens of thousands of dollars for a heart. They’ll beg, lie, and steal. They’ll sell their very souls. But you were different. You were the first to voice your reluctance to accept something that wasn’t yours to take. I didn’t know what to do with you at first. So I thought outside of the therapeutic box. Clearly, I
went too far and it all folded into your irrational belief system. It’s not your fault. Everything that happened was proof to you. Misguided, but I can see you’d get it confused. I am such a blockhead for missing the signs. I guess we—I—was so scared for you the focus turned to keeping you alive rather than confronting your delusions. A dangerous mistake. I’m just glad you’re safe.”
Her words are starting to sink in. She’s looking me directly in the eye, speaking so earnestly. She’s coming clean.
Is it really real?
Shaw goes on. “When I learned you and Darby met, I admit I panicked. It wasn’t fair of me to try and keep you apart. I worried it would interfere with both of your treatments and healing. I was so totally wrong. Darby gave me the what for about it.”
Darby nods.
I try to sit up again, but I’m little more than a ragdoll. Darby helps me prop myself against the couch’s low back. Instead of staying on the floor, she smooshes herself next to me. I’m glad for it. I’m also glad she keeps her hand on my knee. It’s warm, strong, and so very necessary at the moment.
“Listen to her, Adam. Give her a chance before you decide what to believe,” she says.
“Why do you believe her?” I ask.
“I just do.” Darby gestures to Shaw. “Maybe you should tell him what you told me, you know, about what happened when you were a kid.”
Tears form in Shaw’s eyes. She takes a drink of water. Her hand shakes so badly that she spills some water on the tray when she sets the glass down. “This isn’t easy. Guess I know what it’s like to be on the patient’s side now.” She clears her throat. “I suppose it’s best to simply say it. My mother died when I was young and her heart was donated. That’s why I went into this work, hoping it would help me process the loss and give me some closure. And I thought it had. But I think your case has affected me so deeply that I’ve been compromised. I haven’t thought clearly. And I’ve made too many mistakes because I’ve over identified with you. I just hope you can forgive me.”
Darby bites her lip, but she stays silent.
Another shiver works its way down my spine. “I thought you were trying to make me mad.”
A single tear rolls down her cheek. “That was never my intention. Never. I’m so very sorry to have put you through so much pain.”
God, she’s leaving me gutted. I press the heels of my palms to my eyes. Nothing’s inside my mind except for Shaw’s explanation. No voice hovers near my ear. It’s gone. My pulse rings steady. The pounding that had me convinced Shaw’s meds were killing me is no more. Shaw’s not lying. But still …
I lower my hands. “I don’t want any more of your meds.”
She wipes her cheeks. “You don’t have to take anything you don’t want to. In fact, I think you should start working with a different psychiatrist.”
“You need to tell my parents the truth. What you’ve done. That I’m not trying to kill myself.”
She scoots to the edge of the chair. Her fingers grip her knees so tightly that her knuckles are white. “Of course. I’ll tell them everything, with you present.”
Darby leans forward. “But she wasn’t trying to hurt you, Adam. She shouldn’t have to say that.”
I lace my fingers with hers. “You’re right. I know.” I look at Shaw. “I believe you. I’m angry with you, but I don’t think you’re trying to kill me anymore.”
She sighs with relief. “Good. I’ve been so worried.”
Shaw worried. Never thought I’d see the day. “I want to call Mum and Dad. They must be flipping out. I left home without telling them this morning.”
Shaw picks at a fingernail. “I kind of already told them.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“I figured they’d file a missing person’s report the second they realized you’d left the house. They know you’re here. They know we’re working things out. Yes, they were … ” she pauses, searching for the right term, “well, they were more than upset about you running away, but I’ve done a fair bit of work to smooth things over with them. They’re not mad at you, Adam. I made sure of that.”
Darby pats my hand. “It’s true. I listened to the conversation on speaker phone.” She snorts. “I thought they’d show up here anyway, even though they promised not to. They sounded that scared.”
My stomach knots up. “I feel like an idiot.”
Shaw tut-tuts. “It’s not your fault. Delusions are strong.” She stands. “And you’re not out of the woods quite yet. The medicine I gave you helped decrease the symptoms for a little while, but they may wax and wane. You still need treatment.”
I stare up at her. “When will this be over?”
“This is life, Adam. It isn’t over until it’s over.”
“So what do I do?”
“You live it one day at a time like the rest of us.” She extends a hand. “Can I bring you to the hospital now? We can call your mom and dad on the way. I’m sure they’d love to see you.”
I frown. “I don’t need to be admitted, do I?”
“No, but Doctor Jervis will want to see you and he can help recommend another clinician, if you don’t want me to refer you to someone.”
Darby stands. She’s not much taller than me sitting, even at her full height. “What do you say?”
“Other than I feel like an idgit?” I accept Shaw’s outstretched hand and get to my feet. “I say, let’s go to the hospital. I have a lot to talk to Mum and Dad about. They’ve been waiting a long time for me to open up to them.”
After Shaw calls Mum and Dr. Jervis, we head to the hospital. We’re quiet in the car. Darby sits next to me in the backseat, her hand eclipsed in mine. It feels so good holding onto her I don’t ever want to let go.
* * *
Unlike what Larry discovered in The Razor’s Edge, life isn’t about searching the ends of the earth for enlightenment. It isn’t about checking things off a Live Life List to make your parents (or your psychiatrist) happy. It isn’t about pondering, thinking, talking to the stars, or hesitating.
(It isn’t about worrying if you’re going to become a fictional monster in a horror gothic novel. Really, my imagination does have a tendency to run away from me. Looks like my new therapist and I will have a lot to work on.)
It’s about facing the truth. It’s about taking a chance on love, even if you’re not sure that’s what love is. I’m glad I’ll be finding it out with Darby.
Mum’s face is the first I see when we enter the hospital lobby. Her eyes apologize before she even says anything.
I stop her before she launches into a whole I’m-so-sorry-I-should’ve-listened-to-my-son speech. It’s unnecessary. I don’t stop her from fussing over me for the next couple of hours. She’s earned it. Even Dad pulls me in for a hug so powerful I thought he’d crush my ribs.
I do, however, launch into my own series of apologies to Mum and Dad, all spoken with Dr. Shaw, Dr. Jervis, and Darby present. In the end, we’ve aired everything out. Shaw described her role. I cringed at the idea of lapsing into insanity. Mum shed tears. Dad shook his head a lot. But the truth came out. No more secrets divide us.
And no one—including myself—thinks I’m suicidal. Because I’m not.
Dad has to break things up when Shaw and Jervis leave. “Come on, Lisa. Let’s give the kids some privacy for a few minutes. I’ll buy you some tea.” He hooks an arm around Mum’s waist.
Mum stares at me until the last possible moment as if breaking eye contact will make me disappear. She says, “I love you.”
Darby smiles sweetly at them, then rolls her eyes when they’re out of sight. “Overprotective much?”
I laugh, then wince. “Guess they have a reason to be.”
“I put them through the ringer.”
“Yep.”
“I did the same to you.”
Darby’s brow furrows. “Tell me about it.”
I reach out to her. “Thank you.”
She hesi
tates. “I’m so sorry. For ignoring you.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry for scaring you.”
She crosses her arms. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I was the one wigging out about you having Daniel’s heart. It wasn’t fair to you.”
I lower my hand. “If it’s any consolation. I was ‘wigged out’ too.”
The corner of her mouth ticks up. “That’s true.”
“I have something to say.”
She groans. “Don’t tell me you’ve been thinking again.”
I kiss her hand. “I hope you know I understand how precious life is. I want to respect your brother’s gift. I want to live. But I need your help. Can you teach me?”
She stares at our entwined hands, then her gaze darts to mine. Her crystal eyes steal my breath away. “I do a lot of stupid things.”
I scrunch down a bit so we’re eye to eye. “That’s part of life.”
“I’ll teach you how to live if you teach me how to think. I’m sure my parents will appreciate it. They may even be willing to pay you money for it.” She shrugs a shoulder. “Shaw and I talked to Mom and Dad while you were resting, but we all still have a lot of work to do.”
“It’ll take time,” I say.
“Yep.”
I toggle my lip ring. “I have an idea right now.”
She smiles. “Yeah?”
I press my forehead to hers. “Yeah.”
She nuzzles me. “I think I know what you’re thinking.”
I trace my thumb along her jaw and across her bottom lip. “We can teach each other, then.”
“Okay.”
I kiss her, hard and deep until my breath leaves me, until my thoughts float away, and until all that’s left is Darby and life.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It takes a lot of people to write a book and I struggle with acknowledgements because I fear I will forget to mention someone!
Here are the highlights of folks who helped me bring this book to life, whether they helped me keep plugging along early in my journey or they helped directly with making Adam and Darby’s story shine.
Under My Skin Page 23