Suicide Notes (8 page)

Day 19

I woke up this morning to a snowstorm. A full-blown blizzard. It’s so white outside my window it looks like the hospital is flying through the clouds. It’s beautiful. The snow just keeps coming and coming. Those crazy naked trees I can see from my room look like they’re juggling cotton balls.

Goody and the other day nurse couldn’t get in because the roads aren’t plowed, so Nurse Moon and the rest of the night shift had to stay on, and they were not happy about it. They just wanted to go home and get some sleep. Cat Poop couldn’t make it in either, so basically we all had the day off. We were making the staff crazy because we were so hyped-up about the snow.

It was Sadie’s idea to go outside. Juliet said something about how the snow looked perfect for making snowmen, and the next thing you know, Sadie was asking if we could all go out in it for a while.

At first Nurse Moon said no. But then the other night nurse (Nurse McCutcheon, who always looks like she’s forgotten something but can’t remember what it is) said she would supervise us. Then Moon said it was okay, as long as two attendants went with us and we all stayed in a group.

I haven’t been outside since I came here. We can’t even open the windows more than a couple of inches. So I was excited about getting away from the stuffy rooms for a while. Only then I remembered that I didn’t have any outside clothes with me. My parents had brought me some jeans and shirts and stuff, but no boots or coat or anything. I mean it’s not like we go on nature hikes or anything. No one else had any either.

It turns out the hospital had some. I don’t know if they were left over from other patients or what, and I didn’t want to ask. I mean, if they were, why did they leave them behind? That’s the kind of question that really doesn’t have any good answer.

Anyway, we bundled up in the coats and scarves and mittens and stuff. Not everything fit us exactly right, but it was good enough. My only gripe is that the coat they found for me was bright yellow. Like some dog had peed in snow. But hey, it’s not like I was shopping at Macy’s.

Once we were dressed, we filed downstairs. We had to go through two sets of locked doors, and it felt like we were prisoners being transferred from one jail to another. But finally we made it out into the big square formed by the four wings of the hospital. As soon as we were in the yard, Sadie scooped up a bunch of snow, made a snowball, and threw it at Juliet. It hit her in the back of the head, exploding into a million flakes. Juliet made her own snowball and threw it back at Sadie. Only she missed and hit one of the attendants.

That was all it took. Within seconds it was a full-on snowball war. There were no teams or anything; it was everyone for themselves. We didn’t have anything to hide behind, so basically we just kept making snowballs and throwing them at whoever was closest.

I thought for sure Nurse McCuthcheon would make us stop, but she just got out of the way and watched, with a little smile on her face. I made a mental note to be nicer to her from now on. Not that I’ve given her any trouble, but you know what I mean. I could be less of a pain sometimes.

I pegged one of the attendants in the back, and while I was laughing at him, I got hit in the side of the face myself. I turned to see who had thrown the snowball, and I saw Martha smiling from ear to ear.

After we were all worn out from the snowball fight, Juliet started making that snowman she’d been talking about. She made a small ball of snow and then pushed it across the yard, making it bigger. Sadie and I helped her, making smaller balls for the middle and head of the snowman. Martha stood watching us but not joining in.

I went over to her and said, “You want to see an angel?”

She looked up at me with those big eyes and nodded. I walked over to a part of the yard we hadn’t trampled on yet and lay on my back in the clean snow. I moved my arms and legs up and down in a jumping-jack motion, then stood up, leaving an imprint.

“See,” I told Martha. “It’s a snow angel. Do you want to make one?”

She nodded and threw herself into the snow. She kicked her arms and legs crazily, then got up. Her angel was a little lopsided, like it had fallen out of Heaven or something, but it looked really cool. Martha laughed when she saw it. I think it was the first time I’d ever heard her laugh. It sounded like Christmas.

“Let’s make some more,” I told Martha.

We lay in the snow next to each other and made our angels. I was going to get up, but Martha took my hand and held it. She was wearing these red mittens they’d found for her, and I could feel her fingers gripping mine through my gloves. We just stayed like that, looking up at the sky while the snow came down. It kept falling, and for a little while it felt like we were flying through space and the snowflakes were stars rushing all around us.

That made me think about the astronauts again, about how the air on Earth smells so bad to them. I took a deep breath and filled my chest with the cold air. It didn’t stink. It smelled great for a change.

Martha and I finally got up and helped the others finish the snowman. We’d brought a carrot for his nose, and Nurse McCutcheon had gotten us two cookies to use for his eyes. Juliet took off the purple scarf she’d found in the clothes closet and wrapped it around the snowman’s neck.

“What are we going to name him?” Sadie asked when he was done.

“How about Frosty?” Juliet suggested.

“Too obvious,” said Sadie. “It should be something unique. Like him.”

“How about Cat Poop,” I said.

Sadie laughed, but Juliet looked confused. “I don’t get it,” she said.

Neither Sadie nor I enlightened her. Sadie’s the only person I’ve told about my special name for the doc, and I kind of like that it’s our secret.

“What about Bone?” said Juliet.

“What about him?” Sadie replied.

“The snowman,” Juliet said. “Why don’t we call him Bone? Or Boney. Like Frosty but different.”

Sadie raised one eyebrow. “Boney the snowman,” she said. “It’s ironic.” She looked at Juliet. “And fucked up. I like it.”

Juliet grinned. Sadie turned to me and Martha. “Are we all in agreement?” she asked.

I nodded, and so did Martha.

“Then Boney it is,” Sadie said. “Welcome to the world, Boney.”

We stood around looking at Boney for a while. Then Juliet started humming. A few seconds later, she started singing to the tune of “Frosty the Snowman.”

“Boney the snowman, was a crazy, whacked-out guy, with tattooed skin and a goofy grin, and he liked to get real high.”

Sadie and I laughed. Then Sadie sang some more.

“There must have been some acid in the soda that he had, ’cause when he went and drank it, it screwed him up real bad.”

“Excellent,” I said, applauding the two of them.

“Your turn,” said Sadie.

I thought hard, trying to remember another verse of the Frosty song. It had been a long time since I’d sung it. It took a moment, but then I sang, badly, “He led them to the psycho ward, right to the dear old doc. And when they asked him what was wrong, he told them . . .” I couldn’t think of how to end it.

“Suck my cock,” Juliet said. “He told them, ‘suck my cock.’”

Sadie turned and high-fived her. It was exactly what Bone
would
have said. Then all of us threw ourselves into the snow, laughing so hard I was afraid Nurse McCutcheon would think we were having fits. Even Martha did it, although I don’t think she really got why our song was funny.

After that we all went back inside, took off our snowy clothes, and sat in the lounge drinking hot chocolate, just like those goddamn perfect families you see in holiday commercials.

Day 20

I’ve got a little bit of a cold today from being outside in the snow yesterday. That’s okay, though, because it was totally worth it to get out of here for a while. When I looked out the window this morning, I saw Boney still standing in the yard. There was a cardinal sitting on his head, picking at the carrot, and something—probably squirrels—had taken the cookies during the night. But he still looked pretty good. He was still holding up.

Even better: I’m not the only guy anymore. There’s another one. I guess the person who controls the guest list decided we needed a new face at our party.

Anyway, his name is Rankin. He’s a big guy, pretty normal looking. He reminds me of the guys who play football at school, the ones who think they rule the place because they can toss a ball around. I’m not a big fan of the jocks, I have to tell you. It’s like God knows they’re going to have crappy lives when high school is over and nobody cares anymore that they can score a goal or touchdown or whatever, so he makes them the big heroes for a few years to make up for it. The only problem is, the rest of us have to put up with them, which is totally not fair.

“Yeah,” he said when Cat Poop introduced him. “I’m Rankin. Hey.” He lifted one hand and sort of waved at us, then quickly put it back in his lap and gave a stupid half grin, as if he knew how dumb he looked.

Cat Poop waited a moment for him to say something else, but he didn’t. Watching Rankin, I wondered if I’d looked as clueless on my first day there as he did. Now I was a veteran. An old-timer. I also wondered if he was looking at me and thinking that I was crazy, the way I’d looked at Sadie, Bone, and the others that day.

“Is there anything you’d like us to know about you, Rankin?” the doc finally asked.

“Oh, right,” Rankin said, as if his brain had just been on pause and Cat Poop had hit the play button. “I play football.”

I laughed, just a little bit, but everybody heard it and looked at me. Rankin’s eyebrows went all scowly and he said, “What?”

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s just that I was thinking you look like a jock.”

He smiled. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I am.” I guess he thought I was complimenting him. Anyway, he was quiet for a few seconds, like he was trying to decide what to say. Then he said, “I just get kind of down sometimes.”

I almost laughed again. He sounded like such a little kid. “I get down sometimes.” Yeah, probably because it’s so hard being a popular jock and having everyone fall all over themselves whenever you win a stupid game. What an idiot.

Still, it’s kind of nice not being the only guy. Even though it was only for a day, I definitely felt outnumbered after Bone left. I was sort of afraid Juliet, Sadie, and Martha were going to make me play house with them, or have a tea party, or paint our toenails. Not that I think Rankin and I will be best buds or anything.

I wonder what he’s in for. I know—he gets sad sometimes. Who doesn’t? But there’s got to be something more going on in that big head of his. I’d try to figure it out, but, honestly, I really don’t care. Crazy is crazy. You either are or you aren’t. Like they are and I’m not. It’s pretty simple.

I’ve kind of given up trying to convince Cat Poop that I’m not. After all, I’ve been here three weeks tomorrow. That’s almost half of my sentence. Clearly, they aren’t letting me out early for good behavior. So now I just go to my sessions and talk about whatever. Let Cat Poop think what he wants.

Like today. He wanted to talk about friends.

“Do you have any friends?” he asked me.

“Define friends,” I said.

“People you enjoy spending time with,” he suggested. “People you share things with.”

“Do invisible ones count?” I asked. “Because then there’s Mr. Binky Funstuff and Giggles the Madcap Elf.”

“Let’s stick with real ones,” said Cat Poop. I think he’s getting used to me, because he didn’t even push his glasses up or tap his pencil.

“Mr. Binky Funstuff doesn’t appreciate being called not real,” I said. “He’s crying. You should apologize.”

Cat Poop scratched his nose but didn’t say anything.

“Have it your way,” I said after a minute. “Sure, I have friends.”

“Tell me about them,” said Cat Poop.

“Why?” I asked him. “What do they have to do with anything?”

“I’m just curious,” he answered. “I’d like to know what you find important in a friend.”

“Cash is always nice,” I said. “And an entourage.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of personality traits,” he said. “The qualities you value in other people.”

“Well, cleanliness and godliness are always good,” I told him.

“How about honesty?” asked Cat Poop. He totally ignores me now when I’m being sarcastic. I don’t know if I should be offended or not.

“Honesty is overrated,” I said.

“How so?”

“Well, if you’re always honest, then you have to tell your friends
everything
,” I said. “And sometimes it’s better not to.”

“Give me an example,” said Cat Poop.

“Say she asks you if her jeans make her look fat,” I said. “And they do. If you tell her that, she’s going to hate you.”

“Even if it’s true?” said Cat Poop.

“Especially if it’s true,” I told him. “A real friend would lie and say the jeans look great.”

He wrote on his pad. “Are you making notes for a self-help book?” I asked him. “Because I have lots of tips.”

“So you don’t think your friend would want to know that the jeans don’t look good?” he asked.

“She already knows they don’t,” I said. “She just wants me to make her feel better. It’s just one of those things you don’t tell someone, just like you would never tell your friend you hate her boyfriend. Or girlfriend,” I added quickly. “Boyfriend or girlfriend.”

“Isn’t that being dishonest?” suggested Cat Poop. “What if that person isn’t right for your friend? Shouldn’t you say so?”

“People always say they want to hear the truth, but they really don’t,” I said. “Like how many parents really want to know that their kids are having sex or smoking? Even if they ask, they just want you to say that everything’s fine. Then they can believe that it is.”

“And you think that’s healthy?” he asked me.

“You’re the shrink,” I said. “You tell me.”

“I’m interested in hearing what you think,” said Cat Poop.

I waited a minute before I answered. “What I think is that the goatee you’re trying to grow looks ridiculous,” I said.

He looked surprised. Then he glanced at the mirror that hangs on one of the walls.

“See?” I said. “Honesty isn’t so great, is it?”