The man who declared me a warrior. The man who makes me want to not die. The man who knows my secret.
He’s the only one.
I’ve never told this to anyone before. Not my mom. Hardly my doctors. But he knows. He knows about The Funeral Incident, where I felt such sharp jealousy, I was willing every bus, every cab, every car to come hit me on our way back home.
A week ago I would’ve been terrified that he knew that, but not now. Now, I feel peace. Almost like happiness. I know he won’t use it against me. I believe that.
I believe him.
Over the next few days, I catch glimpses of him. In the hallways, the rec room, the TV room, on the grounds. But he’s always busy. He usually has papers in his hands. He barely stops to chat with people, barely mingles with them.
Although sometimes he chats with Josie. Those times are hard. Harder than any dark days I’ve seen in the past.
As much as I want to seek him out, I’m afraid that Beth might think there’s something between us. I’m afraid that she might take it the wrong way.
She found me the day after she saw us together. She asked me how I was doing and told me that the only thing that should matter to me was to get better. Go Outside with a better understanding of myself and the things I’m battling with.
There was no mention of how she found us, and I decided maybe it’s all in my head, like a lot of other things. Maybe she didn’t even think there was something there.
For all intents and purposes, I’m his patient and he’s my psychiatrist. Well, that is, in fact, the case.
It isn’t Dr. Blackwood’s fault that his patient thinks about touching him day and night. It isn’t his fault that she dreams about him. She rubs her fingers together, trying to feel the fabric of his shirt, trying to remember the coiled strength of his chest. She wants to tell him all her secrets, show him all her dark places, and she isn’t even afraid to do that.
It isn’t his fault that I’m slowly going insane and it has nothing to do with my illness, and everything to do with him, the man who’s supposed to fix me. My medicine man.
In fact, I’m so insane that even though the sleep meds flow in my veins, I’ve gotten up every night this week in between hourly checks, and written his name on the rainy window: Medicine man.
I write his name on the misty glass and watch as the droplets drag the lines of M and N down. Like a single teardrop. When I think about him, I don’t think about my illness or hear the noises of the ward or occasional whimpers of the patients. I don’t think about how sour my mouth has been all this week.
“What are you thinking so hard about? God, you’re gonna burn holes through my book.”
Penny’s voice gets me out of my trance.
We’re at the breakfast table and when I come to, everything looks clear to me. Not dull or burning bright. Just right. The room, the people, the conversation. I’m sitting beside Renn, as usual. Vi and Penny are sitting on the opposite side. The air smells of eggs and strawberries.
Focus.
It’s back.
I can focus on these things. I can focus on the trees outside, rather than my imploding thoughts. I can focus on the stray droplets clinging to the window, the damp grounds. It’s starting to rain. Things are gray and wet and swollen and promising.
Oh my God, things are promising.
“Forget it. She’s totally out of it. She probably didn’t even hear you,” Renn mutters, plucking a strawberry from my bowl and popping it in her mouth.
I look at her. “Hey, stop eating my strawberries.”
Her eyes widen in astonishment. Then she goes ahead and plucks another strawberry from my fruit bowl, all the while watching me.
I glare at her and slide my tray out of her reach. “Get your own.”
Her lips twitch and then she grins. “Oh my God!”
“What?”
“You’re back.” She claps her hands and gives me a side hug.
Which obviously gets noticed by one of the techs, who reprimands her. Which obviously gives Renn a perfect excuse to flip the bird.
I chuckle self-consciously. “I’ve always been here.”
“Oh please. I was getting bored out of my mind. Penny was getting so fucking unbearable without your memory flash cards.”
“I missed them. They help me keep sharp,” Penny reluctantly admits.
I grin at her, feeling warm. I sometimes help her study at the library when she gets anxious about things. I didn’t know it meant so much to her.
“We all thought you were gonna be the next Vi,” Renn continues, as usual being blunt.
I glance at Vi, ready with an apology on behalf of Renn. But Vi’s grinning too. “Well, yeah, we did think that.”