“Did you call her mother? Is she going to get admitted soon?”
He shakes his head, his eyes glued to the fire. “I talked to her mother. She all but called me a liar. Celia spun some kind of story where I’m the one that’s deranged. No matter how deep she’s in her psychoses, she’s still pretty convincing. It’s not like the people you see in movies, who think the aliens are coming. Sure, those people do exist, but it’s not how it manifests in Celia. Her psychoses have her believe in a reality where she’s with me, which could be a pretty realistic situation, only it’s not. But to someone who doesn’t know, it’s a pretty legit story. She’s smart and she knows how to narrate. And because it’s pretty realistic, people sometimes believe her. Her mother all but blamed me and said I was the one leading Celia on, and that she would never break into a home or do any of the other stuff she did.”
I listen to him in disbelief. My throat squeezes shut as I feel tears welling up. I’m so angry, I ball my fists in O’s shirt. At Celia, at her mother, at the whole fucking world at this moment. The last ounce of understanding I have left for this girl is slowly disappearing. I feel hopeless. Yes, I’m really sorry that she’s sick, but that doesn’t mean we have to suffer as well.
“So her mom won’t let her get admitted?”
“Her mother doesn’t know where she is at the moment and said she wouldn’t force her daughter to get treated for something she doesn’t believe is wrong with her.”
It’s the prerogative of a parent, right? Believing that your kid is perfect and not being able to see their flaws. I just really want to shake her to wake her up and make her see the truth. Is the love for her daughter really making her so blind she can’t see what her daughter is doing? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right?
Meggy and Dean stand next to us, gaping at the lawn that’s quickly being doused by the firemen. It looks like the fire is out and they should be done, but they just keep on spraying. How the hell am I going to explain this to my parents? Guess I don’t have to fix the lawn anymore though, it’s absolutely ruined, and it might be smarter to put in some new grass altogether.
“She’s out of control,” Dean mumbles beneath his breath as he stares at the lawn with wide eyes. He’s got an arm around Meggy to provide her with some comfort. Girl didn’t sign up for this fucked up shit when she decided to become friends with me again. She’s looking pale and is keeping quiet, which is something I’ve rarely seen happen.
“Remember that letter the first time you came to Roots?” he asks me as I look at him from within O’s arms. I nod. “That was from Celia. She’s sent me all kinds of letters from the facility she was treated in. It was full of scribbles about how I could help her get back with O. I opened a few of them and then started to discard them unopened.”
It makes me wonder what was in the unopened letter he threw away when I was with him. Was there anything in there that could have predicted what was coming? Was she still writing crazy stuff? The letter couldn’t have been sent long before she was released from treatment. Had she fooled all the staff in making them think she was better? Or had she actually been better and then spiralled after getting out? My mind races with questions I’ll never get the answers to.
I startle when my phone rings again and my heart starts racing because I’m convinced it’ll be another bad thing happening. My father’s name lights up the screen, instantly making my anxiety recide and giving me some room to breathe as I pick up. He starts talking before I get a chance to say anything.
“Morgan, Miss Patterson just called. She says there’s a fire at the house. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine Dad. There was a fire on the lawn, but the fire department is just finishing up putting it out right now. The lawn’s a goner though.”
The line goes silent for a second until I hear my father sigh. Just talking about it with my dad helps me sort things out in my head, his voice calming me down.
“I’m glad you’re alright sweety. Miss Patterson told me there were police there last week too. What’s going on?”
This time it’s me that goes quiet. I didn't want to bother my parents while they’re traveling and guilt over not telling them settles over me. I figured everything would be sorted out by now, but instead of it being figured out, all is going up in flames, going to shit.
“There’s something going on with a girl the guys know. She’s sick and we’re trying to get her help, but she’s taking it out on me for some reason.”
Cue dad, the problem fixer. An unending love for the man who’d fix all my problems if I’d give him the chance warms me. The calming effect he has on me eases my tensed muscles and makes it easier to breathe.
“You’ve got the police involved?”
“Yeah.”
“And the guys are protecting you?”
“They do the best they can.” I let my eyes slide over O and Dean and give them a reassuring smile.
“Do you need us to come home, Morgan?”
I take a second to find an answer to that question. Do I need them to come home? I’d love to see them, but no, I don’t need them. What I really need is for Celia to get out of our lives. My fists ball again. Mom and Dad coming home isn’t going to change that. Besides, it’s time to put on my big girl pants and figure some stuff out on my own. I’m twenty-fucking-six. It’s about time.
“No, I need you and mom to keep traveling. We’ll figure it out over here.”
My dad sighs again. “Just call me when anything happens, okay? Hearing it from Miss Patterson is terrifying. And you should be really glad she called me and not your mother, because I would be at the airport right now if she would’ve called Mom.”
He’s probably right about that. I get a really vivid image of my Dad, being pulled out of his bed in his pajamas, my Mom shoving him in a taxi and bringing him to the airport.
“I’ll call,” I promise. We say our goodbyes and he hangs up. I put my phone away. I’m still in O’s arms and I don’t know what to do.
He presses his lips against the top of my head, and I bask in his sweetness for a moment.
“We’ll get her,” he says as we both stare at the lawn that’s no longer on fire, but mirrors my feelings. Sad and drowned. I sure hope we’ll get her soon.