He slams his hand down. Luckily Nurse Rita notices him and comes over. “Now Michael, let’s leave Ellie alone.”
“But I want to play with her ….”
The way he says it makes me think that he’s talking about more than checkers, especially when his gaze shifts across my chest. God, this guy is freaking scary.
One of the other orderlies comes over, and they finally get Michael to do something else. I breathe a sigh of relief. But even from here, I see that he’s still keeping an eye on me. Watching my every move. I almost get up and find something else to do. But I don’t want him to know that I’m frightened. So, I keep playing.
I get so into my game that I don’t realize the new person who’s standing at my table, at least not right away. But a deep, warm voice interrupts my thoughts.
“This can’t be any fun playing alone, mind if I join you?”
A tan hand comes into view, reaching for the chair across from me. My gaze shifts until I see a tall boy with dark brown floppy hair and the most piercing, beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. Eyes so blue, I’m not sure I could even find a paint color on my pallet that would match. They’re kind of an electric blue, buzzing and twinkling with humor and life.
He wears a short sleeve plaid button up and some dress khakis that look like they belong on some prep school guy.
I realize this must be PJ’s Ky; Ky the cookie guy.
He doesn’t wait for an answer and pulls the chair out to sit. As soon as he’s in the chair, I cry out. “Oh. My. God. You just sat on Pedro. You squished Pedro; now he won’t be able to play checkers with me.”
Ky hops up, his face red. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t know you were already playing with someone.” He stares at the empty chair.
I grin, then start laughing. “I’m totally kidding. That was a little psych ward humor. I know—probably not very tasteful, but around here, you don’t get much of a chance to joke around.”
Ky chuckles and I see the tension leave his face. Damn, he’s got a nice face. The chiseled jawline. Perfect lips. A thousand-watt smile. I keep searching him for some flaw. Then I see it. A tiny, almost unnoticeable scar near his eyebrow. As an artist, I take in every detail of everything I see. The textures. The color. The perfections. The flaws. Everything.
“So, I’m good to sit down?” He quirks one of his eyebrows at me
“Yeah, go ahead. But I warn you; I’m pretty bad ass at checkers. I mean, I’ve won every game I’ve played.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
We both laugh.
“I’m Ky, by the way.”
“Ellie, and I know who you are. PJ has mentioned you.”
“She’s mentioned you as well. She made me promise that I would try and find you and meet you today.”
My fingers play with the edge of the table, tracing the grain of the fake wood. “PJ’s kind of pushy like that. But she’s super nice. So, you’re not hanging out with her today?”
“She’s done visiting with me. Now it’s on to my sister and parents. She can normally only tolerate each of us in half hour shifts, then after that, she’s good. But you know PJ, she gets overwhelmed easily.” He clears his throat. “So, how about a game of checkers? Are you ready to test your skills? To see if you can beat me?”
“I can’t believe you’re taunting a mental patient. You don’t know what I’m even in for. For all you know, I could go all Michael Meyers on your ass if I lose.”
His lips turn up at the corners. “Are you trying to threaten me into letting you win? And who the heck is Michael Meyers?”
“Wait a second? You’ve never seen Halloween? It’s like a classic horror movie,” I say.
He blushes. “We don’t watch those kinds of movies in our house. Um—my dad’s a pastor.”
My head cocks to the side, and I stare at him. PJ’s never mentioned her dad being a pastor. I know her parents are older and have adopted several kids, including PJ, but that’s about it. “You’re a PK? Hmmm … that’s interesting.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
This time my face warms. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just … you didn’t look like a PK to me. Not that they have any specific looks. Although wait, I take that back, you are wearing khakis, that should’ve been a dead giveaway.”
I reach across the board and reset up our pieces as I do, my sleeve slips up, revealing one of my scars. Before I can tug it back into place, I notice Ky is looking at it. And when he lifts his eyes to mine, I see the sympathy and sorrow. But I don’t want him to feel sorry for me.
“So, I should warn you I’m in chess club,” he quickly says as if knowing how uncomfortable I feel with the scars.
How I see everyone judging me as if they know why I did it. As if they knew the kind of pain and darkness that swam around in my head. The monster I was trying to outrun. So, I appreciate Ky’s attempt to turn our attention away from my arms.
“Um—you do know that this is checkers, right?”
We both reach for the last red checkers’ piece to put into place and his hand brushes mine. I gasp. The feeling that shoots up my arm is like the jolt from a pair of jumper cables. At that moment, I’m only aware of one thing. Ky. Sun shines in through the western window, making his dark hair swirl with natural reddish highlights. I can see tiny prickles of hair along his chin and jawline where he must have forgotten to shave.
Suddenly I want to draw him. To put his beautiful face on paper. My fingers itch with the urge to run to the art room. To grab my charcoals and just sit.
But we don’t have art for another couple of days. I don’t know if I can wait that long. It’s been so long since I’ve had this urge to work on something. Not since before “the” day I ended up here.
He pulls back slowly, appearing almost as flustered as I feel. “Sorry about that.”
“No, it’s okay. Really.”
So, we settle into a game of checkers. And he’s good. Really good. He thinks through every move. But so do I. In the end, we call a draw. Partially because he has to go, and partially because we have equal amounts of pieces left.
“So, I’ll see you Thursday?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Well, I don’t know. I might need to check my schedule.” I raise my hand and look at it, pretending to flip through a calendar. “Oh wait, I might be in Hawaii. Or, well, nope … I’ll be here.”
He laughs. A sound that is music to my ears. “Bye Ellie, it was nice to finally meet you.” He turns to go, then spins back to face me. “What’s your favorite kind of cookie?”
I absently run a hand through my long hair, brushing it from my face. “White macadamia nut, why?”
“I’ll make sure we bring you one next time.” He smiles then waves.
I watch him saunter down the hall to where an older woman and a girl who looks just like him wait. My stomach knots as I swipe my fingers across the place our skin touched. Why did I react to him that way? Sure, he was cute. But I’d been around a lot of guys. There was just something about him. Something pure. Beautiful. Like the light surrounded him. And I desperately wanted to be in the light again. To run away from the darkness.
But I’d had really shitty luck with guys and didn’t want to find myself caught up in another horrific web. I’d lost everything to the last two guys in my life. They took things from me that I couldn’t get back.
My sanity. My hope. My light.
Chapter Four
PJ skips across the common room, right after Ky leaves. “So, was I right, was I right? Was it love at first sight?” She grabs my hands and spins me around.
I laugh. “Well, I don’t know about that. But I want to draw him or paint him. Do you think he’d pose for me?”
She wrinkles her nose then leans in and whispers, “You mean naked? I don’t think my mom and dad would like that.”
“No! Just him. Fully clothed. Besides, I can’t slip something like that into a conversation. Like ‘hey, can you take
off your shirt and pants for me.’ Now come on, let’s go back to our room.”
Right then Michael steps into our path, glowering at me. “How come you told me you didn’t want to play checkers with anyone, but then you let that guy play with you?”
“I didn’t invite him; he just sat down,” I say, trying to push passed him.
“But you didn’t make him leave like you did me.” He reaches out to grip my arm, but PJ pulls me back.
“It’s because she likes him.” PJ’s eyes narrow, her mouth drawn tight.
Damn. I wish PJ wouldn’t taunt him.
Michael sneers, his hands clench at his sides. “Is that so? Well, you know what PJ, you better watch out because tonight the monsters are going to come for you in your room. The dragon is going to catch you and burn you alive. The moment you close your eyes, he’ll tear your damn head off.”
“Stop saying that,” PJ screeches, covering her ears.
“You know what, you’re an ass,” I say, nudging Michael with my elbow. This time I drag PJ with me, not stopping until we’re sitting on my bed, safely in our room.
She peers up at me, her eyes fill with tears. “The monsters won’t really get me, will they?”
“No. I promise. Michael’s a douchebag. In fact. That jerk off is going to find himself a place on my D.B. list.”
PJ sniffles. “Promise you’ll stay up and help guard me tonight?”
“I swear.”
She leans back against the wall, staring at snatches of our white walls, which at the moment are covered with my artwork. Pictures of faeries and scenic views—some of them are portraits of people here. I even have a drawing I did of PJ hanging up.
But her favorite is the one I did of a horse. She named it Bedford and pretends he’s her pet. Sometimes she brings him carrots and tries to feed them to him.
“So how come your parents didn’t come see you today?” PJ chews on her cuticle, peering at me with her watery blue eyes.
My fingers dig into my bed as I stare at the wall. “They’re busy. And Therapist Angel thought it might be a good idea to have a break from them after the last visit.”
The visit where my parents harped on me to be happy so I could come home. That it was just mind over matter—how I had a perfect life, better than most people. I couldn’t possibly still want to die. They didn’t understand. It isn’t that easy to just shut my mind off. To make the horrible thoughts and darkness go away.
Sometimes, it doesn’t matter what other people say—I can’t always love myself. I’m trying. God knows, I’m trying.
Not wanting my mind to slip into those thoughts, I grab for my notebooks sitting on my desk. Needing happier thoughts, I flip through my “Happy Rainbow Farting Unicorns” one and put a number one at the top of the page.
PJ glances over my shoulder. “What’s this?”
So I explain Therapist Angel’s homework assignment to her. “So, since I already wrote something on my D.B. list, I should probably find something happy to put down. That way my last thoughts for the night aren’t negative.”
PJ grins. “Hey, will you read it to me when you finish? I want happy thoughts too.”
“Sure.”
My first happy thought, that’s easy. Grandpa and his candy store trips.
Chapter Five
The Happy Rainbow Farting Unicorn List Number 1: Grandpa and the Candy Store
So my grandpa has been and always will be one of my best memories. He always had this way of knowing when something was bothering me. And he always knew how to cheer me up. But some of my earliest memories are of him and his trips to the candy store. So, this first entry is for you Grandpa M.
Grandpa sits next to me in church as we’re singing a hymn. I’m trying hard not to fidget because Mom has already whisper-yelled at me twice. But I’m bored. The man up front has been going on and on about someone named Jonah and a big fish forever. But he finally stopped long enough for us to do some music. I sing the first verse of the song, swinging my legs back and forth.
Mom puts her hand on my thigh and squeezes, and shakes her head no. But Grandpa leans closer to me and smiles.
“Tell you what, El,” he calls me by my nickname. I don’t let anyone but him call me that. “If you can sit still and be good just a little longer, I’ll take you up to Tico’s to get some candy after church.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yep. And I’ll let you pick out any kind you want.”
I nod. Then turn back to my hymn. When we finish singing, Grandpa turns his church bulletin over and draws a tic-tac-toe board, then hands it to me to go first. That’s what I love about Grandpa. He doesn’t yell or get mad when I get kind of restless in church. In fact, he never gets mad at me ever. After four matches of our game, the sermon is over and we filter out of the sanctuary. Grandpa grabs my hand.
“I’m going to take Ellie down to Tico’s real quick, if you’d like to meet us at the house,” Grandpa says. He lifts me on top of his shoulders, so I have to duck as we go out the door. I can see almost the entire town from up here. And I love it. He tickles my leg then swings me down to put me in the passenger side of the truck.
Sundays are my favorite days, because we get to have dinner with Grandma and Grandpa after church. And I get to go to Tico’s for candy.
The truck bounces down the hill, wind whipping in the windows, making my hair fly in my face. But I swipe it back. Soon we pull into the party store parking lot. Grandpa parks and then comes around to let me out. He holds my hand as we make our way into the store. There is so much sugary sweetness around every corner. But I look for my favorite licorice rope. I pick the cherry one and hand it to Grandpa. He grabs us both a cream soda pop from the fridge. The kind that’s in glass bottles. My mom and dad never let me have glass ones, but Grandpa does. He tells me it’s our little secret. And I like that.
Once he pays for our stuff, we sit on the tailgate of his truck while we drink our pop and eat candy. Grandpa is the best person I know.
I burp.
“Sorry.” I go still.
Grandpa messes up my hair with his hand. “Don’t apologize for burping, El. Everyone does it.”
“Mom says it’s gross and I shouldn’t do it.” Mom says I shouldn’t do lots of things. Like play in the dirt because it’ll mess up my dress. Or talk during church. And I shouldn’t talk unless spoken to. There are lots of rules. But not with Grandpa.
“Never mind all that kiddo. You be whoever you are with me. Okay?” He belches and gives me a wink.
I grin and burp again. “Okay.”
Tears well in my eyes as I set down my crayon. God, I miss him. Miss his smile. His hugs. His warmth. His time. The way he made me feel like the most important person in the world. I never had to prove anything to him. I just had to be Ellie.
PJ stares at me. “This was a happy thought, why are you crying?”
I chuckle. “It is a happy memory. These are happy tears.” And in a way, they are. Grandpa had always been a light for me. An escape from all the pressure my family put on me to be this perfect girl. Perfect grades. Perfect athlete. Perfect friends. But the thing is, I’m not perfect and the more my family realizes it, the harder they are on me. Just like their push for me to get better. Like I have a choice in making my mind something it’s not. As if I can outrun all the demons that keep chasing me.
But I promise, not just for me, but for Grandpa, I’ll try to get through this. I know he wouldn’t want to see me like this. If he were still here, he’d have helped me through the pain.
Chapter Six
“Sleepy Ellie, wake up, it’s time to get up.” PJ hops on my bed, shaking my shoulder. The sun has barely cleared the trees. I groan. PJ’s always up before me. Most times before the sun comes up. I swear she’s like part rooster or something.
Last night had been a rough night. PJ had a hard time sleeping thanks to dick-head Michael. She kept calling for me, thinking a dragon was going to come into our room. At one point, sh
e even hovered in the corner with a blanket over her head. But one of the nurses coaxed her back to bed. They let me sit up with her for a little while. I sang to her until she fell asleep, which seems like only an hour or so ago.
With a sigh, I sit up and watch as one of the orderlies walks by our room, clipboard in hand. Check. Check. PJ and I are accounted for. Breakfast isn’t for another two hours, so I pull out my sketchbook. There are a lot more crayon drawings in here than I’d like. I miss my charcoals and pastels—even my pencils. But since they won’t let me use anything else, unless I’m in our arts and crafts session, this is what I have to deal with. Although, I guess it’s better than nothing.
Ky’s face is burned in my mind. The itch is still there to draw him. I wonder if maybe Friday I’ll actually get the chance to put him on paper.
PJ scoots closer to me. “Do you think you can draw me a puppy? I really want a puppy—and I’ll name him Guppy. Guppy’s a good name for a dog, dontcha think?” She chews her finger.
“Yeah, it’s a great name. What color do you want him?”
“Brown and black. With a curly tail in back.” She smiles, closes her eyes and hums to herself. It sounds kind of like Mary Had a Little Lamb.
While she does that, I climb from bed, go to one of my shelves and grab a few crayons from my paper cup. Once I sit back down, I go to work creating a fluffy puppy with a curly tail for PJ. I even make it a red collar and put its name on it. When I finish, I hand it to PJ.
She giggles and pets the paper. “Aw, my puppy is hungry. Do you think we can bring something back from breakfast for it?”
“Sure. Maybe just a couple pieces of cereal or something.” I know I shouldn’t feed her imagination or delusions or whatever these things are, but I pretend to feed the animals on the walls. She believes they eat the food and that makes her happy. And a happy PJ is the best kind of PJ. When she goes off the deep end, it’s hard to watch.
When it’s finally time to go to breakfast, PJ and I trudge to the cafeteria and get in line. Today’s meal of choice? Scrambled eggs, bacon, potatoes, toast. Or cereal. I opt for the cereal because the scent of eggs is making me nauseous this morning. When we sit down, PJ leans over and taps my arm.
The D.B. List Page 2