Her (48 page)

“Please share it with us,” Dr. Pelchat encouraged.

She didn’t answer until after she had scratched her knee, yawned again, and popped a crick out of her neck. Then she sat back in her seat and proceeded to tell us. “This one long-term goal I have is to own a Triumph Rocket 007.”

“What is a Triumph Rocket 007?” Tai asked her.

“It is a motorcycle that has more force than your mouth. It’s one of the first motorcycles that will be able to
fly. It’s going to have transformable wings. But it won’t be released for another eleven years. That is why it’s a long-term goal.” 

Dr. Pelchat seemed satisfied with Mena’s sharing.

“That’s very good,” said Dr. Pelchat.

“Yeah,” Geoffrey added. “I have to get me one of those. A flying motorcycle? That sounds unreal.”

Most of the other people in the room voiced their opinion and agreed with Geoffrey. They started asking Mena more about the motorcycle. She seemed to open up when she talked about things that interested her. She freely answered their questions and, instead of interrupting and telling everyone to quiet down and get back to Goals Group, Dr. Pelchat let them ask more questions. She surprisingly answered them with a smile on her face. I watched Dr. Pelchat. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his large belly. He was observing Mena intensely. This was definitely going in the chart later.

CHAPTER 50

I liked how laid back Saturdays were in Bent Creek. I spent time in the living room, trying to finish homework that Mom had brought to me from my home schooling. It was hard to concentrate with the pressure of having to see Nick and Alison in a few hours. It was almost three o’clock. I finished the last of my Calculus II homework. It left me with a tormenting headache, just like homework from advanced courses that I’d taken in public school. Mom always pushed me to use my full potential. She said it would be useful later on in my life. She didn’t want me to be held back from moving on. Perhaps it was because she felt as if she was being held back. I knew she felt that way after Jack had torn us apart.

It wasn’t long after I had finished my homework and closed my textbook that Mr. Anton was standing in front of me. I was still sitting at the table on the main unit. I looked up at him, already knowing what was coming. He was smiling as though he was there to deliver good news. I guessed to some patients it would have been good, but for me it was a reason to be afraid.

“Come with me,” he said.

I didn’t have time to put my books in the bedroom, so I just took them along with me. We arrived at Dr. Pelchat’s office, and Mr. Anton knocked before Dr. Pelchat invited us in. When the door opened, I expected to see Nick, Alison, and Mom, sitting in chairs in front of Dr. Pelchat’s desk, and an empty chair there for me, but it was only Dr. Pelchat behind his desk and one empty chair in front of it for me. I sat down, confused, as Mr. Anton closed the door and left Dr. Pelchat and me alone.

“Where is my mom?” I asked him.

Dr. Pelchat nodded towards the door. “Your family is here. They are waiting in the conference room for us. I wanted to meet with you before we go in.”

He didn’t have my chart open, though it was in front of him on the desk. I didn’t know what to expect from this meeting. I was feeling a little uncomfortable and nervous.

“Don’t be nervous,” he encouraged. “I think that what you fear is not what you will have to face today. This meeting is not to attack you, but to help you and your family get an understanding of what has been going on with you. There is a reason why you are here, and there is a reason why you did what you did, and we are going to help them understand. Then we are all going to work out what it’s going to take on all of our parts not to let it happen again. I think that you are brave, and I think that you are ready. It’s going to be all right, Kristen.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe he was right, I thought to myself. Maybe I am a lot braver than I think. I opened my eyes and said, “All right. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

When I stepped into the conference room with Dr. Pelchat, I didn’t have a picture in my mind this time as to how everyone would look or where they would be positioned. I just let Dr. Pelchat open the door, and I followed behind him, trying to feel brave and ready. The first person I saw was Mom. She was sitting in the chair closest to the door at the large, round table. It looked like a room for executive board meetings. Mom smiled sweetly. The way she smiled made me smile. When I stepped forward to approach her, I felt a gentle squeeze around my waist. I looked down and saw skinny arms adorned with gold and silver-toned bracelets dangling around my waist. Alison was hugging me, and her little face was pressed against my back. I sat my books down on the table next to Mom because they had become too heavy in that position. Then I turned around so that Alison and I were facing each other, and I wrapped my arms around her to hug her back.

After a warm hug, I turned to face Nick. Alison wouldn’t let me go. She held on to me as I walked over to him. She followed my footsteps with her arms still hanging around my waist. Nick sat on the other side of the table, opposite Mom. His arms hung loosely at his sides. He leaned back in the chair and kept his eyes away from me as if he was purposely avoiding eye contact with me. When I approached him, his eyes shifted in Mom’s direction.

I heard mom say, “Alison, come sit next to Mommy.”

Alison whined a little, but did as she was told. I kept my eyes on Nick, not caring that Dr. Pelchat was there, observing and probably writing everything down. Nick kept his eyes on Mom. I didn’t look her way to see if she was making gestures to him, because I wanted Nick to look up at me, and if he did, I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to catch his eyes. I squatted down to his level and put my face near his. He folded his arms across his chest and looked away from me. He was trying very hard to act tough, but I was getting to him. I stayed right beside him and I stared at him. I smelled him, and I looked right through him and saw his anger and his pain. When I got past what I saw and began to feel all of what he was feeling, the tears began to stream down my face. I stood up because I felt my legs grow weary.

Mom called out, “Nicholas!”

“No,” I sobbed. “Just let him-”

Nick didn’t let me get another word out before he stood up out of the chair and wrapped his arms around my neck. He squeezed me so tightly that I thought I was going to choke. I didn’t care. I didn’t want him to let go. He was as tall as I was, and yet he was still so young. His hair was longer, tickling my cheeks, and smothering me as he buried his tear-drenched face in my neck. His arms were bulking up because they felt like snakes constricting me.  He was growing up, and time was going by.

He squeezed me tighter and said in my ear, “Kristen. I love you. Please don’t ever do that again. Please.”

“It’s okay,” I told him through what little breath I had. “Don’t cry, Nickyroo. It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s going to be okay.” He repeated after me.

“Yes,” I assured him.

I gently turned my arms loose of him and, as he felt me pulling away, he did so as well. When we pulled apart for the first time in a long time, our eyes locked. Those large, brown eyes that had haunted me forever stared boldly into mine. They were not pleading and they were not crying. They were strong and supporting. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it hard. At that moment, I felt my heart palpitate from his love.  His tears weren’t for what had happened to him.  They were for me. 

“Come on now,” Mom said. “Nick, sit down. We have to get started.”

Nick and I recovered from our moment and took a chair next to each other. Mom and Alison sat next to each other on the opposite of the round, executive table. I looked over, and Dr. Pelchat was already writing in my chart. I hoped that he was writing something good.

Mom asked him if he was going to get the meeting started.

Dr. Pelchat responded, “It has already started.”

Mom didn’t say anything back. She stared at me as if I was supposed to say something. I didn’t quite know how it worked. It was my first family therapy session. Alison and Nick were staring at me, too. Alison was staring mostly at my arms. I had made sure to wear long sleeves, but I could tell she wanted to get a look to see if I would roll them up.

I looked at Alison and said, “School’s starting soon.”

Alison squealed, “I get to try out for cheerleading this year.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. She reminded me of someone. That was who Alison was. It was better she be like that than like me. As Alison went on about how excited she was to start middle school in a few weeks and how she was looking forward to my birthday, and then hers and Nick’s birthday, I started to get back a feeling that I hadn’t felt in a long time, a feeling that I had missed. Because I hadn’t realized until that moment how much I had truly missed them. I missed my brother, my sister, and even Mom. I found myself laughing and smiling again with my family, and I wasn’t afraid to let them see me genuinely happy. I loved them so much.

As the conversation went on about birthdays, and the twins turning twelve and my turning eighteen, it all seemed to be focused on my future and our future as a family. Nick appeared to be fine. It didn’t seem like I had caused any traumatic, long-term damage from that terrible night. I had been especially worried about Nick. However, I listened to him talk about middle school, skateboarding, girls, and he responded positively.

I began to understand that Daniel had been right. At the time when he’d told me that saying,
this too shall pass,
I hadn’t really grasped those powerful words well enough to take it deep into my heart and make it register in my mind. I’d survived, and so had my family. That terrible time had passed, and here we were, normal again.  A month later, and time at Bent Creek had done its job. It seemed as though we were beginning to heal.

P
ART 3

Eternal Resting Place

By Kristen Elliott

It is believed that when you die

You go to hell.

When in hell

You are made to suffer through your sins

Repeating, systematically.

Hell is a common grave

A place of resting

I will rest

In hell.

It is believed that when you die

you go to hell.

When in hell

You are made to suffer through your sins.

Repetitive

Suffering.

Hell is a common grave

A place of resting.

I will rest.

CHAPTER 51

I didn’t want to show any sign of emotion when I returned to the unit. When my family therapy session was over, my group was just getting out of Drug and Alcohol Group Therapy with Dr. Finch and Ms. Mosley. I tried not to let any expression show on my face as everyone scattered and went on to do his or her own thing, as everyone did on Saturdays. I headed straight for the bedroom.

When I was in the room, I fell onto the bed and grabbed Janine’s blanket. I curled up with it under my cheek and I tried to take deep breaths and stay calm. The door opened to the bedroom from the hallway and Mena walked in. She started towards her bed, but stopped when she saw me. She smirked.

“How did it go?” she asked.

I lay my head on top of Janine’s blanket and shrugged.

“I had my first visit today. Not on Level One anymore,” Mena filled me in.

I didn’t really feel like talking. It wasn’t Mena. I just needed some time to take in everything that had happened during the family therapy session. There was a lot to think about and a lot to accept for my family and me.

During the family session, there had been a lot of apologies. Promises had been made that had to be kept, and there'd been confessions and secrets told that had been kept inside for too long. Tears had been shed and poured out from deep down inside of us until we'd run dry. I was exhausted.

Mena didn’t realize this, nor did I dare open my mouth to tell her. She sat down on her bed and faced me.

She said, “My foster mom came to visit. She brought me some clothes. I had asked her to bring me a blanket because it gets too cold in here at night. It is summer time, but it feels like winter in here at night. Of course she didn’t bring me one.”

Mena continued to talk about her visit with her foster mom. I wasn’t really listening to her. I hugged Janine’s blanket tighter and thought back to the time after the smiles and laughter had disappeared, when it had been time to talk and be serious.