How I Got Here (3 page)

Now on a bright day in the first week of July, with the sun shining through the windows of her private room at the hospital, she had just given him the first letter, the first part of her story.

His initial reaction after reading it was to fully blame this girl Kim and the hateful teenage bullying that she had instigated,
but once again he found himself having to remind himself to keep his emotions in check, remind himself that this was just a small part of her puzzle, she had only let him into the start of the story, and he knew that she was a strong girl, and it would have taken a lot more than what he’d just read, to get her here to this point. That had been two years ago, so there had to be more to the story than this, it would have taken more than some hateful words from school children, more than the vendetta of a spoilt teenage girl. He was almost entirely certain that what was yet to come, would be far worse than what she’d revealed to him already, the thought of that scared him, and yet he was also thrilled because she had been more honest with him than he’d expected.

She was now sitting in her bed, with her legs once again curled up to her chest, sitting in her defensive position, looking so small that she looked like a child, only she wasn’t a child any more, she was eighteen now, but she had been broken these last two years, and the effects were strikingly physical as well as emotional.

Her thick dark hair is soft and wavy and it falls around her face a little messily, as she moves her head to look at him, a strand falls across her eyes. She doesn’t speak, but her expression dares him to talk, invites him to tell her what he thinks.

‘Thank you – for doing this, I know it can’t have been easy for you.’ He taps the pages on his lap, clears his throat and decides what to say next, ‘This is how it all began then, with this girl Kim?’ He sees her flinch at the mention of Kim’s name, and realizes it’s easier fo
r her to write it, than it is for her to hear it out loud. She recovers quickly though and nods her head in response to his question. He knows that she doesn’t want to talk, but there are things he needs to know, so he decides to ask her the questions anyway, because she can just write the answers in her next letter.

‘Did this bullying get any worse?’ He speaks so quietly that she feels safe, she feels like she can be honest with him, because he will understand. She closes her eyes against the sunshine, against the concern etched into his face.

‘I told you – that,’ Her hand flies in the direction of her first letter, ‘is only the start of things.’

He’s shocked that she’s answered his question already, he hadn’t expected to hear her talking, and each time she does speak to him he is amazed, transfixed by her clear and beautiful voice, the strength that he can hear despite her vulnerability. He has to pull himself out of his shock to speak again, because he is aware that he’s been staring at her, with his mouth hanging open the smallest touch and she is looking confused.

‘Do you feel ready to write down the next part?’ He asks quietly, her eyes which she has shut again now fly open and she shakes her head violently, he places a hand on hers to calm her down, an action which a month ago would have caused her to snatch her hand back, but now she leaves it lying under the comforting weight of his hand.

‘Take your time, it doesn’t matter if you get the next part to me in a day, a week, a month or more – I’m not going anywhere.’ He holds her gaze steadily, knowing that he’d never spoken truer words in his life, because there was nothing which would stop him from helping her, not when he’d spent so long building up this trust, he’d come too far to throw it all away now.

‘Don’t tell anyone – I mean, please don’t show anyone what I write I’m not – ready.’ She struggles with her words, pausing and pulling her hand from his, lacing it with her other hand and wringing them together nervously.

‘It’s ok I won’t show anyone until you’re ready for me to.’ He promises, ‘If you like you can keep hold of them.’ He holds it out to her, but she doesn’t move to take it.

‘No – no I’d rather you kept it.’ She catches his eye again and in that moment he understands, by writing these letter, putting it all down on paper and giving him the letters, she is passing a little of her burden away, and if she were to take the letter back, she would feel like she had to carry all the pain with her, alone again.

‘That
’s ok too.’

‘You must think I’m being really silly.’

‘You know that I don’t, I never would.’ He lowers his voice, he was about to say that he thinks she is extraordinary, but thinks better of it, because it could so easily bring up bad memories for her, she could so easily break down in front of him, and he’s seen that too many times, he doesn’t ever want to be the one to bring her to tears.

‘I think I’ll rest for a while.’ She can’t keep talking, it’s still too much for her, the effort of letting somebody get close to her, the walls are coming back up, and the issues with trust are lining themselves on her small face, she stretches her legs out in front of herself and pulls the blanket up,
covering the black jeans she’s wearing with a long white tank top.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.’ He stands up and folds her letter up, tucking it safely into the pocket of his blazer, which was hanging on the back of the chair next to her bed, the chair that he always sat in, and had been sitting in for the past
few hours. He folds the jacket over his arm and then rests his hand on her arm lightly, ‘Three o’clock?’

‘I’ll be here.’ Her attempt at a joke brings a small smile to her face, which in turn brings one to his, but hers is a little sadder and more withdrawn, because she’s been here for the past few months, and there aren’t any plans for her to leave yet. He smiles reassuringly then turns to leave, but her voice brings him back. ‘Oliver?’

‘Yeah,’ He turns in the doorway to look at her, his brown eyes taking in the scared look on her face.

‘You won’t be late tomorrow?’

‘No, three o’clock sharp, I promise.’ He holds her gaze and she nods, breathing out a sigh of relief. He leaves the room and makes his way out to the parking lot, he’d finished his shift over an hour ago, but he’d agreed with his boss that he could stay late each day, and carry out these sessions with River, even though his boss and the other staff thought he was crazy, because most days he would just sit there with her in silence. He would prove them wrong though, he would prove that what he was doing wasn’t crazy.

Oliver is just about to put his keys into the door of his apartment, when it’s pulled open from inside.

‘I thought that was you, come in and sit down. I made a vegetable curry.’ Amanda ushers her confused brother into the room, which is an open plan room, consisting of a small lounge, a bed in the corner, a desk by the window and a small kitchen, the only room that is separate is the bathroom. The apartment is cluttered with books, papers, music and a few pieces of clothing.

‘What are you doing here?’ He stands in the doorway for a second, looking around himself, ‘And how did you get in?’

‘I flew in from San Diego this morning, and keeping a spare key under your mat isn’t exactly original, I thought you were meant to be the smart one.’ Amanda grabs his arm and pulls him into the room.

‘Did I know you were coming?’ He sits down at the small oak table in his small kitchen, taking off his jacket and throwing it in the general direction of his brown leather couch.

‘No I’m a surprise.’

‘Is that what mom and dad said when they found out mom was having you.’ He smirks.

‘Shut up.’ She places a plate of food in front of him, then sits herself down opposite and stares over at him, ‘So,’

‘Why are you really here Amanda?’ He moves his fork around the plate, without picking anything up. She avoids his gaze and lifts her shoulders slightly in a dismissive shrug.

‘To visit you,’

‘Come on you can do better than that, you may be my big sister but that doesn’t mean you can fool me, why are you really here?’ He drops the fork and waits for her reply, her gaze shifts towards a picture on coffee table, she hadn’t meant to but subconsciously her eyes had betrayed her thoughts, he follows her gaze.

‘Ah mom and dad sent you.’ He picks up his fork again and begins to eat.

‘They’re worried about you.’ She defends raising her arms up, then dropping them down again in one quick movement.

‘Why? I’m fine, busy at the hospital but fine.’ It’s his turn to shrug his shoulders evasively, ‘they have no reason to be worried, and especially not enough reason to call you from San Diego, to break into my apartment and cook me dinner.’

‘They may have realized you only know how to cook three things.’ She jokes then turns serious again, ‘They mentioned something about a case you’re working on, something which has been affecting you lately. They said you’ve been acting odd, odder than usual. You’ve become more withdrawn; you’re working yourself too hard, and haven’t been sleeping all that well either.’

‘I see them once a week when I drive to Connecticut for dinner, how did they pick up on all of that?’ He raises his eyebrows.

‘It’s a parent’s job to notice when something is bothering their kid.’ She looks at him seriously, ‘It’s true then, there is a case that’s getting to you?’

‘Possibly,’

‘Isn’t it like the first rule of medical school, to not get too involved with cases, from what I hear you’re spending extra hours at the hospital, for this one case.’ Amanda laughs but hidden behind her joking he can sense her concern, the way she keeps her gaze steadily focused on him, as if she’s trying to read some clue in his expression, tells him she doesn’t find any of this particularly funny.

‘You don’t have to worry, I’m not too involved with the case; I want to get to the bottom of what’s going on with my patient.’ He looks down at his plate and takes another bigger bite.

‘Well if it’s all the same to you I think I’ll stick around, just for a while so I can see for myself, I wouldn’t want my little brother crashing, because he’s not looking after himself.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Then you won’t mind if I stay for a while.’ She replies.

‘What about your job?’

‘Oliver I’m a waitress, they need waitresses in New York just as much as they do in San Diego, probably more.’

‘What about your kid?’

‘She is asleep on your bed right now, see,’ She smiles and points at the small figure curled under the blankets, Oliver raises his eyebrows as he looks over his shoulder at the bed in the corner.

‘What about her school?

‘It’s summer,’ Amanda shoots back, ‘You can say what you want, but me and Tiffany are staying until we’re sure you’re ok, so I thought I’d crash on your couch.’

‘And where do you propose I sleep? You’ve given my bed away to a six year old.’

‘Fine, I will share the bed with Tiff and you can take the couch.’ Amanda says lightly.

‘How generous of you, you’re wasting your time though, because I’m fine.’

‘So you keep saying which by the way convinces me you’re not fine. I’m doing this for your own good Oliver.’ She smiles, ‘Now eat your dinner.’

Chapter Three

Letter 2

I didn’t tell anyone what was going on at school, how could I? I didn’t want my parents or anyone else knowing what my classmates thought of me, what Kim had gotten them to think of me. I guess I was grateful that even though my mom worked in the school, she never noticed how everyone was acting with me, she was busy and I was glad, because I couldn’t handle it if she knew what people thought of me. You see by December Kim had managed to successfully frame me for a lot of stuff, until the whole school turned against me, which I think I could have handled if I’d simply become invisible to them, if I was just left to sit alone in the library or walk through the halls unnoticed, but that isn’t what happened.
Every day at school I would be the target of their ridicule, just small comments from some people, or a glance that told me they weren’t thinking kindly of me, or they would just snigger at the clothes I was wearing, or laugh about how I had done my hair, those things were nothing to me, I had my own style and I didn’t care if they liked it or not, they were just childish remarks that I could brush off. Slowly though I heard more and more hurtful comments, people saying that I was stupid, that I was fat and ugly, they seemed to target my weight an awful lot.

Then one day I walked into my English class and everyone stopped talking, I wasn’t used to this because they usually just wouldn’t care that I was there, they’d just keep up their conversat
ions, or switch to talking about me, but this time everyone fell silent, completely silent. I looked around just waiting for the attack, because that’s how paranoid I was by that point, but nothing happened. I hoped foolishly that they’d decided to move on, forget about me, but that kind of thinking was pathetic, of course it wouldn’t be that simple, they wouldn’t just give up.

I sat down at my usual desk in the back row, and there on my desk was a letter addressed to me, I recognized the handwriting right away, it was Emma’s. Again I had the foolish thought that maybe she was apologizing, and just maybe she wanted to be friends with me again. I tore it open quickly, here it is for your judgment, what do you make of these words.