Sisters in Sanity Page 11

  Which brings me to my current plan. I am going up to Spokane for the summer, to be closer to Laura, to see if I can’t gain her trust, find a way to help her. There are so many new medications she could benefit from. I can’t give up hope, and neither should you. Laura probably won’t ever be the woman we once knew, and it may take years to even get back some semblance of the woman she was. But we’ve got to try, right?

  Oh, Brittie. This is all so hard, and I know how difficult it must be for you. I know you’ve been through so very much. As has your father. Now that I have become your mother’s legal guardian, I understand the weight of that responsibility. Don’t be mad at your father for what he has done to you. He does it out of love. I understand that now.

  I love you, darling. Stay well.

  Grandma

  “I hear your crazy mother was found wandering the streets in Canada,” Missy chirped to me, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. It was the following day in CT and, what a coincidence, I was in the mush pot. Sheriff was leading things, as he always seemed to these days.

  “Spokane’s in Washington. Learn some geography, why don’t you. And how’d you hear?”

  “I was told.”

  “By Clayton?” So much for patient confidentiality.

  “That’s not important,” Missy said, with this great, big sympathetic look on her face. “We’re here to help you process. Tell us how you feel.”

  “She’s right, Hemphill. Own up to your feelings,” Sheriff said.

  “You tell me what you know,” I said, facing Missy.

  “Your grandmother tracked your mother down, found her living like, like some crazy homeless person,” she said.

  “Mama’s a wild child, just like you,” Sheriff said.

  “Neither of you know crap about my mom.”

  “I know she lived in denial about her illness until it was too late,” Missy said.

  “Shut up!”

  “Whoa, girlies. Looks like someone touched a nerve there,” Sheriff said.

  “Unless you get with the program, you’re gonna end up just like her,” Missy said.

  “Missy, there is so much in the world that you don’t know, that to even begin explaining it all to you would take the rest of my life.” My voice came out steady, even though my insides were burning. “And I’d rather end up like my crazy, messed-up mother than spend even a moment as a conniving, cowardly little conformist like you!”

  Everyone cracked up when I said that, even Sheriff, who loved nothing more than a good catfight. Missy’s face went white with rage and finally she shut up. But when she caught my eye, she mouthed “I’m gonna get you.”

  Chapter 19

  I couldn’t sleep that night. I had so many emotions roiling around, about Mom—and Dad, as usual—but also about Missy, V, and Bebe. So I lay in bed and thought about writing Jed a letter. I’d been writing him a lot of imaginary letters lately. I’d gotten another note from him with fireflies drawn all over it, but I hadn’t been able to sneak anything out to him. Hence my telepathic missives.

  In my mind, I could say everything I really felt, things I never would have been able to say to Jed’s face or in real letters. I told him about how much our night meant to me and about the feeling I’d had when I played with the band. The music had cleansed me of so much unhappiness, and in my mind my love of music and my love for him were all mixed up. I told him about my fight with Bebe and my weird feelings toward V. And sometimes when it was really quiet and late and I couldn’t sleep, I would confide in Jed about the things that scared me most: that I’d never get out of Red Rock and get to be with him like a normal girl, that I never was or would ever be a normal girl. Maybe I was going to end up crazy too. Not the carving-my-skin, barfing-up-my-lunch, ditching-class types that passed for crazy at Red Rock. But voices-in-my-head crazy. Crazy like my mother.

  I was still talking to Jed when the sun peeked through the shades. A day on the quarry with no sleep was a brutal thing, and I knew I was in for a rough go of it when I stumbled to the shower. And that was before I saw V crouching in the corner of the stall.

  “Don’t scream,” she whispered as I jumped.

  “How’d you get in here?” I whispered.

  “Very sneakily,” she said.

  “Aren’t you still Level Two?”

  “Yes. But Level Two girls need showers too.” V pointed to the dressing area, where her escort was waiting.

  “How’d you know I’d be here?”

  “You always use the second stall, Brit. For a rebel girl you’re a creature of habit.”

  “Are you okay? We’ve all been worried sick about you. You must be going crazy in iso.”

  “It’s not fun, but I’ve endured worse.”

  “Couldn’t you just tell Sheriff that you were ready to face your issues?”

  “I’m afraid that doesn’t work the fourth time around,” she said, smiling ruefully. “I was hoping I’d see one of you guys, thought you might slip over to see me.”

  “Well, it’s been rough. We’ve all been under surveillance.”

  “There are ways around that.”

  I shrugged. “You’re the one who knows all the ways. What were we supposed to do?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “What—you think I owe you a risky visit because of what you did?”

  V looked genuinely surprised and then kind of hurt, which made me feel like a jerk. “You don’t owe me anything, Brit. There’s no outstanding debt between us.” She seemed sincere, but I felt like it was all a lie. There was a huge debt between us, and now I would have to pay her back for something I’d never asked for in the first place. “Don’t sweat it. Your Christmas present was just more costly than I expected, but I was happy to give it to you. Did you have a good night out with Jed?”

  I smiled just thinking of it. “I did.”

  “So be happy. It was worth it.”

  “To me, not to you.”

  “That’s for me to decide. Are you mad at me or something?”

  “Or something,” I lied. “I just feel guilty.”

  “Brit,” she sighed with all her world-weariness. “Guilt is such a waste of an emotion. Don’t spend your energy on it—or on me.” And then she crawled under the stall to the empty shower next to mine and turned on the tap.

  That afternoon on the quarry was one of my loneliest times at Red Rock. The heat had returned in full force, sending the counselors back to their Diet Cokes and magazines on the patio. It would have been possible to talk to the girls. But Martha wasn’t there, probably on another of her hikes. And Cassie was working alongside her new roommate again. Bebe was still giving me the cold shoulder. So I just piled bricks by myself, replaying my sad conversation with V in my mind. It was so hot out and I was perspiring so much that no one noticed my face was damp with tears.

  It was three long weeks before Bebe decided to end her silent treatment and make peace with me. Sort of. She approached me on the quarry, ready to strike a deal.

  “This is all getting so tiresome, Brit,” she said. “I’m bored with it. Can we stop now?” No apology. No “I missed you.” No “darling.”

  “You’re the one who’s pissed at me, Bebe,” I said.

  “Look, I just said this whole thing was tiresome. Can we not talk about it? Besides, I have something far more amusing to tell you.”

  “What?”

  “Come with me.” I followed her over to where Cassie was piling bricks with her new roommate. “Brit, this is Laurel. Laurel, this is Brit.” We checked each other out. Laurel was tiny, a speck of a thing, even smaller than Bebe, with black hair cut into a bob and gorgeous hazel eyes. Lucky girl to have Cassie as her brick buddy.

  “Laurel is Cassie’s new roommate.”

  “I know. Hi.”

  “Hey.”

  “It appears our Cassie and her Laurel are special roommates.”

  “Huh?” I asked. Laurel was standing right there, so I wasn’t sure what Bebe was doing. Cassie, for her pa
rt, was pawing at the ground with her foot and blushing crimson.

  “You know how being assigned new roommates was a punishment? Well they really found a way to nail Cass.”

  I looked at Laurel, but her face was impassive. I didn’t know why Bebe was dissing her like this.

  “They roomed Cassie with a lesbian!” Bebe said, cracking up now.

  “I prefer the term queer,” Laurel said.

  Bebe laughed so loudly that Cassie had to cover her mouth with her hand.

  “But the idiots that run this place obviously don’t know I’m queer,” Laurel said.

  “Ain’t that rich?” Cassie said. “Her mom put her here because she ran away to San Francisco when she was fifteen. But the reason she ran away is because she was afraid to come out in a small town with less than two hundred kids at her high school. Just like me.”

  “I ran away because I was advised to,” Laurel said. “You see, when I started to feel too trapped to breathe, I called the national gay-lesbian youth hotline to ask about coming out. My parents are very religious, very conservative, and the sweet gay boy from the hotline told me to keep quiet until I could move somewhere, shall we say, more sophisticated. Then I should come out.”

  “She ran away to Frisco the next day,” Cassie said, positively schoolgirlish in her admiration.

  “Well, the hotline boy didn’t say how long I should wait to move, did he?”

  “And your mom had no idea why?” I asked.

  “Not a stitch,” Cassie answered. “Her mom found her and brought her home, but she’d had such a good time in Frisco that she took off again. Next time her mom found her, she’d brought one of the escorts from Red Rock.”

  “And none of them have any clue why you ran?”

  “Clearly not, based upon my roommate situation,” Laurel said. “Their ignorance is our bliss.” She grinned at Cassie.

  “So are you two dears a couple?” the ever-tactful Bebe asked.

  “We don’t feel the need to define it,” Laurel said.

  “We ain’t a couple,” Cassie replied. “But aside from that girl at the beach, Laurel’s the first gay person I’ve ever met.”

  “Honey, one in ten people are gay,” Laurel replied. “I’m just the first queer you know you’ve met.”

  “Wow, Cass,” I said. “They should put you in the brochure. ‘I was miserable when I got here, confused about my sexuality. But at Red Rock, I got a lesbian roommate and all my troubles vanished.’”

  “It’s all too perfect. I must tell Martha. It’ll cheer her up. Has anyone seen her?” Bebe asked.

  Cassie had seen Martha heading out on one of Sheriff’s character-building treks earlier that morning.

  “Poor darling,” Bebe said. “In this heat.”

  “I know,” Cassie said. “It’s hotter than a two-dollar pistol.”

  “I love it when you talk Texas,” Laurel said with an affectionate giggle.

  “I guess Brit’s not the only one who owes our dear V a nod of thanks,” Bebe said, throwing another pointed glance my way.

  “Drop it, Bebe,” I warned.

  “Fine, it’s dropped,” Bebe said, back to her bitchy voice.

  “We’d best split up now,” Cassie said. “Don’t want to separate the counselors from their National Enquirers.”

  “Ciao, girlies,” Bebe said, flittering off.

  Cassie and Laurel moved away too. And just like that, I was alone again.

  Chapter 20

  “Are you ready to talk about your grandmother’s letter?” Clayton asked.

  “What’s to talk about?”

  “I really am so tired of your obfuscation, Brit. There’s much to discuss in that letter.”

  “My mom’s okay. She’s in Spokane. It’s all good news.”

  “Is it really?”

  “She’s not dead, so relatively speaking, yes it is.”

  Clayton waved her pen and chuckled softly. This was my cue to ask her what she thought was so funny. “What?” I asked.

  Now she was shaking her head. “It’s just too obvious.”

  “If you’re going somewhere with this, maybe you should share, because you’ve lost me.”

  “I’m not the one who’s lost you, Brit,” she said. “Let me put it another way. In your grandmother’s letter, she said that your mother refused the doctor’s help, because she feared they were all, wait, let me get this exactly.” She stopped and shuffled through my file, then pulled out a photocopy of Grandma’s letter. “She ‘thinks the doctors are all out to get her.’ Isn’t that how you feel?”

  “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not after you,” I muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing, a song lyric. I don’t think you’re trying to poison me or kidnap me so you can plant probes in my brain, which is the kind of stuff my mother believes, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “You’ve missed my point. You’re being too literal. I’m just suggesting the ways in which your nature mirrors your mother’s.”

  “You keep saying that. Why don’t you just ask the question you’re hinting at: Am I worried that I’ll go crazy too?”

  “To put it bluntly, yes.”

  “Are your parents still alive, Dr. Clayton?”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  “Humor me. Is your mom alive?” Clayton was at least fifty so I figured there was a good chance she wasn’t.

  “My mother is still with us. My father passed on.”

  “Of what?”

  “Where are you taking this, Brit?”

  “Just tell me.”

  “He died of heart disease.”

  “Are you worried you’ll have a heart attack?”

  “No more than the next person.”

  “Well, my mom has a disease, too. That’s what all the doctors told Dad and me. It can be hereditary, but my mom’s mom is fine and so is her sister, so there’s no reason to think I won’t be, too.” It all sounded so logical. I almost believed it myself.

  “That’s a very mature way to look at, Brit,” Clayton said. “But I suppose that if I had high cholesterol or chest pains and other signs of heart disease, I might change my tune a bit, show a bit more concern, perhaps even try to take some preventive measures.”

  “Preventive measures, like what? Shock therapy?” I was being sarcastic, but judging by the creepy smile on Clayton’s face, I was a little scared that I’d given her an idea.

  As it turned out, Clayton did have shock treatment in mind for me, but not the kind with electrodes. A couple days later, she called me in for a special session. When I saw who was sitting with her in her office I almost passed out.

  Dad.

  I was speechless. What was he doing here? Was this the rescue every girl at Red Rock secretly hoped for? Or had something happened to Mom? Clayton took in my confusion, eating it up like candy. Then, after my discomfort had settled over the room, she deigned to explain.

  “As you know, Mr. Hemphill, we don’t usually condone individual visits, but in Brit’s case, I thought we’d make an exception.” She turned to me, wearing her phoniest smile. “Your father has generously agreed to give up a day of his family trip to the Grand Canyon to come see if he can’t galvanize your therapy.”

  “You went to the Grand Canyon without me?” Somehow, I felt as betrayed by this as everything else that had happened.

  “Yes, honey. It’s beautiful there. I wish you could’ve joined us,” Dad replied. I stared at him. Was he for real? I mean, did he think this was a nice social call?

  “As I was saying,” Clayton interrupted. “Your father agreed to come down for the day to help us work on a few issues.” She turned to Dad. “Mr. Hemphill, I think it would help Brit to know exactly how she came to arrive at Red Rock.”

  Dad nodded and looked at Clayton, who fixed him in a steady gaze. Then he looked at me. It was almost like he was asking for my help to get Clayton out of the room. And bec
ause even when I’m furious with Dad I will do anything for him, I cleared my throat. Then Dad cleared his throat. Clayton got the hint.

  “Well then, let me give you two some time alone,” she said.

  Dad stepped forward to hug me. His embrace felt hollow. I extricated myself from it as quickly as I could.

  “You were going to tell me why I got sent here,” I said, looking squarely at him.

  “Your therapists believe you’re under the impression that it was your mother’s idea.”

  “My stepmother’s idea,” I corrected.

  “Right, yes, well. I should clarify now that while she thought you could use some, well, guidance, the decision to send you to Red Rock was mine.”

  “Your idea?” I spat.

  Dad blushed. He actually looked embarrassed. “Yes, your mother—I mean your stepmother—she thought you needed some help dealing with your—your anger, but she was actually against you going so far away,” he stammered. “I chose Red Rock. I felt it was the best place for you.”

  Maybe I’d suspected this all along, but hearing it from Dad’s mouth was like a knife in the back. I looked at him, a person I had once loved without limit in this world, and I felt a flash of hatred. It was just for a second, but it cooled my temperature to ice.

  “So what sold you on Red Rock?” I asked. “The fact that it’s a thousand miles from home? Or was it their warm-and-fuzzy therapeutic approach that appealed to you?”

  Not even Dad could miss my sarcasm. He ran his hands through his hair. “Please, sweetheart. We just have a short visit. Let’s try to be civil.”

  “Civil? Do you think that’s why Clayton asked you here? For a tea party? She wants you to bring me down a few pegs. Which is how this place operates.”

  “Now, honey. I’m sure that’s not true. I know that Dr. Clayton is stern, but she has your best interests at heart.”

  It was at that moment that I finally got it: Dad didn’t have a clue. He didn’t have any idea what Red Rock was all about, even though he was standing right in the middle of it and could have seen it for what it was if he’d really wanted to. And maybe more importantly, he didn’t have the slightest notion why he’d sent me here. There were so many things I understood that Dad was working diligently to ignore.