Daisy Lane (30 page)

A student working in the Vice Principal’s office brought a note to get Grace out of biology class to meet with the school psychologist. Aware of every eye in the room upon her, Grace could feel her face flush as she put her books in her backpack and left the room.

The “school psychologist” was actually alternating members of a local group practice who rotated visits every other week. Their temporary office was in a construction trailer in the parking lot. On the way out to the office, Grace was practicing in her head what she would say.

‘I had really bad cramps,’ she’d say. ‘I just had a really bad day. Nothing like this has ever happened before and it won’t happen again.’

The psychologist visiting this day was so young looking Grace thought she was probably fresh out of college. She wore old-fashioned wire-framed glasses, her hair was long and falling out of a messy bun on her head, and the sleeves of her business suit were rolled up to her elbows. She was small and thin, and Grace thought to herself, ‘She looks like the grownup me.’

“Hi. Grace?” the woman asked, and when Grace nodded she stood up and shook her hand. “I’m Jessica. Have a seat; I’m just reading through your file and I want to get caught up before we start.”

Grace sat down across the desk from the woman and looked around the messy temporary office. She glanced at Jessica, who was chewing on the end of her pen while reading with such concentration that her brows were furrowed. Grace looked out the window. She listened to the small sounds in the room: the clock ticking, machinery noise from outside where construction workers were erecting the permanent building that this function would eventually transfer to, and the occasional vibration of Jessica’s cell phone, which was sitting on the desk.

“Wow, Dude,” Jessica said, as looked up from Grace’s file. “You’ve had one hellacious week. How are you doing?”

Her words surprised Grace so much that at first she smiled, but the compassion and kindness in the look Jessica was giving her brought tears to her eyes. Jessica pushed a box of paper tissues toward her and leaned forward on her elbows.

“You’re dealing with a lot of issues right now,” she said. “Let’s talk about it, and see if maybe I can help.”

Grace squeezed her eyes shut and willed the tears to recede, but they did not obey. She took a tissue and cried into it. When she finally got hold of herself, she felt wrung out and exhausted. She looked up. Jessica was sitting back in her chair, looking at her with the same compassionate expression.

“I don’t think a lot of adults could handle all you’re dealing with,” Jessica said. “If I can help in any way, I’d like to.”

“What could you do?” Grace said.

“I can listen,” Jessica said. “Sometimes it’s helpful to talk to someone who doesn’t have a stake in what’s going on. I may be able to teach you some coping techniques that will help, and I could make a written recommendation to the court.”

Grace took a deep breath and decided to trust Jessica. She told her everything.

“I want them to leave me with Kay,” Grace said at the end of her story. “I would give them all the money in the trust fund if they would just do that.”

“It sounds to me like you have lots of good people helping you,” Jessica said. “I will be glad to add my recommendation to the judge.”

“Thanks,” Grace said.

“Meanwhile, though, let’s talk about ways you can deal with all this stress you’re having,” Jessica said. “It’s hard enough to handle a bad situation when you’re feeling well, but if you are hungry or not getting enough sleep that can make it even harder.”

“I’m eating better than I ever have before,” Grace said, “and I’m sleeping a lot.”

“Tell me, Grace,” Jessica said, leaning forward again. “Are you having any thoughts that scare you?”

Grace thought about the day she hid in the pantry and thought about killing herself. Since she’d decided to save herself, she had been clinging to the idea that there was some way in which she could. She hadn’t given up yet.

“No,” she said. “I think it’s going to work out somehow. I don’t know how, but I believe it will.”

“That’s good,” Jessica said. “If you ever do have dark and scary thoughts, I hope you will call me.”

She handed Grace a card with her name and the group practice contact information on it.

“Now, let’s talk about some things you can do when you’re feeling stressed.”

When Grace left the trailer a half an hour later, she gripped Jessica’s business card like a talisman. She felt as if she had just added another polar bear to her army.

When Grace entered the computer lab, she found Tommy talking to Elvis.

“There are like all these different kinds of aliens,” Tommy was saying. “Like some are small grays and some are lizards. They have some deal with the government where they’re allowed to experiment on us, trying to make a hybrid between our species so they can survive in our atmosphere.”

“I’d have to see tangible proof of extraterrestrial life before I believed it,” Elvis said. “To date there just hasn’t been any credible evidence.”

“Look on the Internet,” Tommy said. “There are pictures and everything.”

“I don’t believe it,” Grace said. “It’s science fiction.”

“It’s no weirder than what religious people believe,” Tommy said. “Some big man up in the sky is controlling what happens to us and you have to constantly tell him how great he is and give him money or he’ll send you to burn in a never-ending fire? That’s not even science fiction. That’s crazy.”

“What do you think happens after you die?” Grace asked.

“I think we all go back into like a big pot of energy and come back when there’s an opening,” Tommy said. “Like when someone makes a baby it’s like a job’s available and you can come back and try again.”

“Reincarnation is a basic tenant of Buddhism and Hinduism,” Elvis said. “Some of the greatest philosophers also believed in it. Plato, for instance.”

“Some people have near-death experiences,” Tommy said. “Like they die and come back and say they saw a tunnel of light and people they loved who died before them.”

“Studies suggest that might be the brain’s way of soothing the dying intellect,” Elvis said. “An NDE may just be a hallucination, like a dream, that people have due to oxygen deprivation.”

“You have any links for that?” Tommy asked.

“Sure, I’ll send them to you,” Elvis said.

“You ever dream about somebody who died?” Tommy asked.

“No. Why? Have you?” Elvis asked.

“Yeah, like after my real grandmother died; I didn’t know her very long but she was a real nice lady. She had cancer and was really sick but she had like this great attitude about it. She wasn’t afraid to die. She said she was looking forward to seeing what all the fuss was about.  She said she would come to me in a dream afterward if I wanted her to.”

“And she did?” Grace asked.

“Yeah, but she didn’t say anything profound or tell me what happened,” Tommy said. “She just hugged me and smiled, like she was real happy. She was with Ed’s dog, Goudy, who died few years ago. She was just, like, walking around with Goudy, like they were good friends. They both just seemed really happy to see me.”

“I have these dreams about my grandma where she’s in the house somewhere but I can’t find her,” Grace said. “In my dream our house is huge, just hundreds of rooms and stairs and hallways and I can hear her but I can’t find her.”

“Maybe you should stand still and let her find you,” Tommy said.

“I’ll try that,” Grace said. “You ever realize you’re dreaming and try to make stuff happen?”

“Oh yeah,” Tommy said. “It’s so cool, but then I usually wake up.”

“There’s a scientific term for that,” Elvis said. “It’s called lucid dreaming.”

“Charlotte used to have nightmares that her father came and tried to steal her brother,” Grace said. “She said she was terrified but also jealous that he didn’t want to steal her, just her brother.”

“I miss her,” Tommy said. “I feel like the Charlotte we knew died and someone else took her place. Somebody took over her body, like possessed her or something.”

“Maybe she’s an alien hybrid,” Elvis said. “That was a joke.”

“I guess I was fooling myself,” Tommy said. “She was never as great as I thought she was. She must’ve been secretly horrible all along.”

“No, she was great,” Grace said. “And she really liked us. I don’t know why she changed.”

“Do you think she misses us?”

“No,” Grace said. “I think she’s embarrassed we were ever her friends.”

They were both silent for a long moment.

“Did you need something?” Elvis said. “Not that I’m rushing you, I just need to finish these equations I’m working on and send them to the professor at Stanford.”

“I gotta go,” Tommy said. “Do you want to meet up at the library this evening?”

“Sure,” Grace said. “I’ll see you up there.”

Tommy smiled at her. She felt as see-through as an aquarium, in which he could see all her private feelings and thoughts swimming around; some ugly, some pretty, some spiky, some graceful, and he was okay with all of it. He didn’t mind anything. And she didn’t mind him seeing it, or seeing him in turn. She wasn’t scared of it, she felt relieved to have this, whatever it was. She didn’t want to make out with him so she guessed it was platonic friendship.

“What’s up?” Elvis said as soon as Tommy left.

“What do you think happens when people die?” Grace asked. “What did your mom tell you about it?”

“My mother is a scientist,” Elvis said. “I’d say my mother’s more agnostic than anything. She just doesn’t share her doubts with her church friends.”

“Would they kick her out of the church?”

“It’s dangerous to challenge someone’s beliefs about politics or religion,” Elvis said. “A human’s beliefs are integrated into their sense of identity, like what sports teams they follow or what musical performers they idolize. If you challenge any of those beliefs it’s like you’re attacking who they are. Perceived threats trigger the fight-or-flight response, which is the not the ideal physiological or psychological state in which to pursue civil discourse or support rational thinking.”

“So what do you believe?” Grace asked.

“Scientific research can only explain what happens on a physiological level,” Elvis said. “I know what happens biologically. The physical form, if allowed to decay naturally, nourishes animals, insects, and other living organisms, such as nematodes, bacteria, and fungi, and enriches the soil in which plants grow.”

“But what about your soul?” Grace asked. “Where does it go?”

“I’m a scientist,” he said. “I need more data.”

“Do you and your mom go to church?”

“My mother was raised in the Baptist church,” Elvis said. “She still attends even though she doesn’t like the sexist politics of the doctrine. It gives her a sense of belonging to a community. Communities are essential to a civilized society.”

“Do you believe in God?”

“I don’t have enough data yet to make an informed opinion.”

“I kind of hope there isn’t,” Grace said. “People give God credit for the good stuff but when bad things happen they always say, ‘We don’t know God’s plan’ as if there’s a way to look at it that makes sense but we aren’t smart enough to see it. If God is powerful enough to create the world but is more interested in which football team wins then I don’t have much respect for Him. He should be looking after starving children in Africa, not wasting time on sports.”

“There’s a compelling argument for intelligent design, but that would eliminate the possibility of favoritism that humans seem to require from their deities,” Elvis said. “Maybe it’s just easier for people to have a deity to thank or blame because the alternative is that we are all alone here with no one to thank or blame but ourselves.”

“What about luck?” Grace said. “Where you’re born or who your parents are makes a huge difference.”

“Chaos theory allows for every continuum,” Elvis said. “Everything is still random.”

“My life sucks because of choices my grandparents and my parents made,” Grace said.

“But you can choose differently,” Elvis said. “Nothing is predetermined.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Grace said. “It feels like the world has already made up its mind about me and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Prove the world wrong,” Elvis said. “Scientists do that every day.”

Grace had a headache as she made her way to English class. Seeing Rowan Gallaher sitting next to Charlotte, their heads together, whispering, did nothing to help. She wanted nothing more than to get this day over with, go back to Kay’s and have a nap in the pretty bed.

The teacher was in an especially chipper mood.

“This is one of my favorite exercises,” she said. “Today we’re going to take turns playing the parts of the characters in Jane Austen’s
Emma
. We’ll be utilizing improvisational acting techniques. I will assign roles, give you a situation from the book, and you will interact as the characters in the book would react.”