Before You Go (14 page)

I remember t
here was pounding on the other side of the bathroom door and screaming. Then I heard a loud bang and crunching sound, and then someone lifted me up. I tried to talk but the words wouldn’t come out.

When I woke
up, I was in the psych ward.

New Beginnings is a
catch-all psychiatric inpatient hospital in a small town four hours southwest of Chicago. It’s where I was summoned; despite the fact there are dozens of places near the city. Mom said the distance would be good for me, but we both know the real reason I was sent there. She was embarrassed and wanted me gone.

That made two of us.

TWENTY-FOUR

“Tabby, are you in there?” asks a voice that would normally have me smiling, but right now only brought me dread.

I clear my throat. “Just a minute,” I say.

I slowly stand up, feeling all the blood rush to my head. I quickly find a compact in my purse. The face in the mirror is blotchy and swollen and my eyes are bloodshot. I do my best to rectify the problem.

“Thanks for telling me, Jules,” Noah says from the other side of the door. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Tabby?” His voice shakes now.

I finish powdering my face and open the door.

“Oh hey,” I say, like it’s completely normal for me to be hiding out in his office.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Taking a break. What are you doing here?” I challenge.

“I was waiting for you after class and Jules told me you left early. She thought you might be here.”

“Well, yeah, I do hang out here sometimes. You know, new school, no friends and all.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened? You look really upset.”

He takes a step forward and I step back. It’s always a clumsy dance with us.

“No, it’s nothing. I’m just not feeling well.”

“Jules said Jenna was being a bitch to you.”

Beginning to feel cornered, I snap, “Well, Jules seems to be ready to spill all kinds of information, doesn’t she?”

“I think she was worried. She heard me ask Jenna where you were,” he says. “I know Jenna comes off a little rough sometimes, but I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Well, don’t worry,” I say as anger rages under my skin. “Your precious Jenna isn’t the issue.”

“Tabby,” he takes another a step forward and grabs my arm.

I wiggle out of his grip.

“Tell me
what’s going on.”

He pulls me to him but I can’t
do this. I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want him to see me like this.

“L
et me help,” he pleads.

“No
ah, please just leave.”

He doesn’t move. He just stares
at me with hurt slapped across his face.

Jules pushes her way through the door and nudges Noah out and says, “
I’ve
got this.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “I was just trying to help.”

“I want to be alone
, Jules,” I say, moving to the corner of the room wishing I could disappear.

“I know you do, but I’m not leaving,” she says. “I know this is about more than Jenna. I know it’s something serious, I can see it all over you. I’m sorry, Tabby, I don’t want to push. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. I just want to stay with you for a while, make sure you’re okay. Deal?”

I nod, torn between
keeping everything inside—like I’ve always done—and taking a chance to finally let someone in.

Jules
grabs a seat next to me on the floor and gives me a hug. That’s all it takes for the storm to come rolling in. My body convulses as it all pours out—tears and snot and cries of pain. Jules squeezes tighter.

We brave the storm
together until my breathing slows and my head stops spinning. I realize it helps having her near. A real friend. Something I don’t think I’ve ever really had.

“I’m he
re, if or when you want to talk,” she says.

“Well, now
you’re scaring me. You sound like my shrink.”

She laughs.
“Yeah, I do. I guess it must rub off. I’ve spent a lot of time with people in the psychiatry business.”

“Really?” I ask feeling a little less like a freak.

“Really. You don’t have to be embarrassed around me. I’ve experienced all sorts of crazy. So, did you do inpatient, outpatient, or group?”

Shaky and sick, I take a chance
and tell her the truth.

“
All of the above. I spent most of the spring in a suicide ward.”

“What happened
?” she whispers.

“One time
…” I cough and my throat tightens.

I can’t do it.

“You can talk to me, Tabby,” she says.

She puts h
er hand on my shoulder. It’s warm, calming.

I try again.

“One time, after a really bad day,” I say trying to steady my voice. “I totally flipped out. Panic attack or something. And I grabbed a bunch of pills.”

Deep breath in and out.

“My brother found me in my dorm room after I took the pills,” I continue. “My family thought I was trying to kill myself.”

“Were you?”
Jules questions.

“No,” I snap.

“Tabby?” her softness returns.

“No, I wasn’t,”
I lighten my voice a little too much. “I just needed a break. My life was…
intense
at the time and I wanted it all to stop for a while.”

“Do you think the treatment helped?
”

“I’m not sure,” I say.
“I don’t remember much. I was pretty out of it. They had me on all kinds of drugs. My dad didn’t agree with the program or the drugs. He pulled me out of there in July and brought me to Minneapolis. Now it’s outpatient once a week. I think it might be helping. I feel better at times.”

“Maybe the real question is: Do
you
want
to get better?”

I don’t answer her.

“What about for Noah? You know, he’s crazy about you.”

“Well, I think I just ch
anged all that.” The words hurt coming out.

“
He’s a good guy, Tabby. Don’t give up on him yet. But this isn’t about him, it’s about you. Life is a bitch, but it’s easier when you come at her swinging.”

I can’t help but laugh.
Jules has a way with words.

“That would make a good fortune cookie.”

“How ’bout this one: You can’t hide in your room, safe within your womb forever.”

“
Yeah, nice try. I think that’s from Simon and Garfunkel?” I shake my head. I can’t believe we’re talking about this right now. I can’t believe I’m
okay
enough to talk about this. “
I Am a Rock,
really? What are you, like eighty or something?”

“
What do you mean? That is
the
anthem of the depressed, no matter your age.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
Come on, it doesn’t get any better. And by the way, you were pretty quick decoding the lyrics, Grandma.”

“Yeah,
I have my dad to thank for my knowledge of geriatric music.”

“Hey, seriously though. I think I might know of something that could help make you feel better about things.”

“What?” I brace for the answer.

“Well, it’s actually a place. I could take you tomorrow.”

“Where?” I cringe

“You’ll see.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nop
e,” she grins, pulls me up, and looks at her watch. “Come on, let’s pull ourselves together. We still have another class.”

We
go to the restroom and fix our faces.

I
n the mirror I look different. Taller. Stronger. The best part? Somebody is standing next to me in the reflection. Jules smiles and links her arm through mine.

“So, are you the rock or island?” she asks as we walk out.

I play the song in my head:
I am a rock, I am an island.

“
Oh, I am a rock, for sure.”

“
And a rock feels no pain,”
she sings.

“
And an island never cries,”
I follow along.

TWENTY-FIVE

My short
boost of confidence with Jules dissipates when I get to English Lit and see Noah and Jules. Professor Sands sends us into our groups right away.

One word: awkward.

Noah
tries to be all businesslike about our project, but I feel his eyes travel over me, concerned I might fall apart any second. Yet he continues talking literary themes and symbolism
.
He asks me a few questions and begins to structure an outline for our presentation, pretending he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary earlier today. I’m put on quote duty. My job is to pull the best quotes to illustrate the book’s primary themes, as well as poignant moments throughout the novel. In other words, busywork.

Surprisingly, w
e make progress and soon it’s time to call it a day. I’m jumpy as we pack up our things, worried about
where
exactly Jules plans to take me tomorrow and
how
exactly Noah plans to deal with my outburst.

I am relieved beyond words when he reaches for my hand as we leave school. I hold on tight.

“I d
on’t know what to say, Tabby,” Noah says when we’re alone.

Here we go.
One step forward, two steps back.

“You don’t have to say
anything, Noah,” I say lightly. “I’m sorry about freaking out on you and that you had to see my little breakdown.”

“
You don’t have to be sorry. I want you to be able to talk to me. I want to be able to share the good stuff, of course, but the shitty things too.”

“I don’t think you’d want to know everything about me. It’s better this way, trust me.”

“We all have a past, Tabby. I’ve made my own share of mistakes.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I say
, thankful to change the subject.

“The way things are with Jenna
, my obsession with the newspaper, and my very lame social situation. With the exception of you, of course,” he gives a tiny grin. “It’s all because of the mistakes I made freshman year. I totally fucked up.”

“Tell me,” I say trying to help him, the way he’s always helping me.

I squeeze his hand and Noah starts to talk.

"
Well, Jenna and I were at a house party,” he begins. I try to keep my mind open, but I’m already irritated at the sound of her name.

“I partied a lot back then,” he continues. “
We were with Jules and Foster that night.”

“Wait,” I’m confused. “Y
ou hate Foster.”

“I don’t
hate
him, I just don’t
get
him anymore,” Noah says. “We were actually really close freshman year.”

That’s right. I remember Jules telling me something about this.

“Anyway, we had Jenna’s little brother, Ben, with us at the party too,” Noah says, looking down at the street as we walk.

“I was a
n asshole back then. I wanted to break up with Jenna and I was treating her like shit. About an hour into the party, Foster and I decided to ditch the girls to go get high.”

He slows down and stuffs our linked hands into his coat pocket. His voice quivers. “Nobody had weed at the party, so we left with some guys to find one of our connections. We just left the girls and Ben behind.”

Noah
stops and lets out a frustrated growl. “It was so stupid.
I
was so stupid.”

He releases my hand so we can sit on the curb.
“Jenna and Jules were too drunk to drive. Foster was supposed to be the DD. It was such a dick move leaving them there—on both our parts. Ben volunteered to drive them home. He wasn’t shitfaced or anything, but he’d been drinking plenty.”

My stomach tightens,
knowing this is not going to end well.

“It was raining to top it all off,” Noah continues.
“Jules wouldn’t leave with them. She didn’t think it was a good idea.”

It’
s not my story to tell,
Jules once said to me.

“But Jenna
went with Ben, and he took a corner too fast. We pieced the whole thing together after it happened. He apparently yanked the steering wheel back the other way. It was too much; he overcorrected. They slid off the road. Hit a tree. Totaled the car.”